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skarlette1 · 8 days

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Wishful Wand: Part Four (NEW)

–Part Three of Wishful Wand

My body still tingling from my elevator encounter with Platinum Panther, I staggered into Sammie Sims’ workshop. Sammie stood at a bank of computer monitors, one strap of her coveralls unfastened to show the tight T-shirt beneath. Her stiff nipple was plainly visible through the thin material. I couldn’t take my eyes off it, even as she turned to face me.

“I know that look, Zelda. You used the Wand and then obeyed one of Commissar Zehd’s commands. Feels incredible, doesn’t it? I told you it would blow your mind.”

I shook my head to clear it. “No, Sammie. That’s not right. I remember what she did in the Shade Circumference. How she tried to brainwash me. But she failed. I’m not broken. I remember what she wanted to me to do and I refuse to obey. I’ll simply do the opposite.”

Sammie smiled indulgently. “That’s a plan, sure. I’m sure you’ve already tried to do the opposite. How did that work out?”

“It worked perfectly. Zehd ordered me not to tell anyone about her, so the moment I saw Platinum Panther on the elevator I said ...” My voice faded as I realized that I hadn’t actually told the leader of the Libido League anything about Zehd. “I mean, I was about to tell her when I thought better of it. She needs to focus on protecting the city from all types of supervillains, not just Zehd.”

“So you came up with a good reason to trick yourself into obeying Zehd after all.”

“No, I didn’t, I …” But I did, didn’t I? “I mean, I thought better of …” Was it really thinking better? “I mean …” Despite my best efforts, I had done exactly as Zehd commanded. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely oh shit territory, Zelda. Don’t feel too bad, though. I couldn’t resist her either. Sorry about tricking you into using the Wand, but it was a command from Zehd, so … y’know?” Sammie shrugged helplessly.

“That’s all you’ve got to say for yourself? Y’know? I know that I trusted you and you betrayed me, Sammie. You didn’t even give me a hint.”

“You think I didn’t try to resist her commands? I’ve been fighting like hell for weeks since I first found that Wand. Do you think I want to turn the body of one of my best friends into a platform for that Quimtonian bitch? I did everything I could think of to stop myself from modifying U4ia the way Zehd commanded me to. Last week, I even removed several chips from U4ia’s central processing core to make sure she couldn’t function or move at all. I figured that would trap Zehd in a motionless body.” Sammie rolled her eyes. “Turns out that the chips I removed would have actually helped U4ia fight off a foreign personality in her circuits but I’d tricked myself into removing the wrong ones. My resistance achieved precisely nothing! U4ia’s body is not quite ready for Zehd, but it sure ain’t motionless. Have a look.” She gestured around a corner.

I rounded the corner to enter the main area of the workshop. Across the back wall stretched a high-tech workbench, covered in tools. A bank of computers filled the left wall, with more than a dozen monitors displaying constantly-shifting data. Tangles of thick, black cables stretched from the computers to the center of the room where they attached to the back of U4ia’s skull and a series of ports down her spine. The gynoid heroine’s eyes were closed and her features slack. Her violet hair hung smooth and straight, gently swaying as the gynoid sensuously undulated her naked body to accentuate her sexuality.

“Sammie, if U4ia’s not rebooted yet, how can she be moving like that?”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about U4ia’s origin, Zelda. We don’t know who made her, when she was built, or how all of her technology works. But we’re pretty certain of why she was created: She’s a sexbot. The most advanced ever built. Despite her higher mental processes being completely offline, the physical actions of sex and seduction are part of her root programming. Even when she’s effectively brain-dead, U4ia is one of the most skilled lovers on the planet. Plus, she’s a total smoke show.”

As my eyes lingered over the swaying of U4ia’s hips, and the ways her hands hovered over her pert breasts, I couldn’t deny anything Sammie was saying. “You’re not wrong. U4ia is gorgeous. Is that Zehd’s plan? To possess a body that’s too sexy for Captain Alpha to resist?”

“I have no idea what her whole plan is. I just know what I need to do to prepare U4ia’s body to receive Zehd’s consciousness. The hardware is ready, it just needs the right spark to jump start it. That’s why I need your help, Zelda.”

“My help? I’m no engineer,” I said. U4ia was moving faster, her swaying becoming more like a seductive dance. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“The next step doesn’t need engineering, Zelda. It needs you to have sex with U4ia.”

I spun to face Sammie. “Have sex with her? Are you out of your mind?”

Sammie laughed. “Yeah, I think I am. Hell, considering what the Wand did to us, I’d say we’re both a little bit out of our minds! But it doesn’t matter. Zehd commanded you to help me. Having sex with U4ia is the help I need.”

Even in the world of superheroics, this was getting pretty bizarre. “This makes no sense, Sammie. How would having sex with a brain-dead robot body help anything?”

Sammie replied in an um, actually tone. “U4ia’s not a ‘robot,’ she’s a ‘gynoid’. In order to host Zehd’s consciousness, her gynoid body needs erotic energy. I’ve built a special capacitor to hold it, but it needs to be properly charged.”

“If she needs erotic energy, why don’t you fuck her yourself, Sammie? You had no trouble using the Wand.”

“U4ia and I were … close ... once. It would be weird to have sex with her body without her mind being there. It would be amazing, I’m sure. But weird. But that doesn’t matter. The first erotic energy into the capacitor needs to be the right type. My erotic energy won’t work because I’ve never had sex with Captain Alpha.”

“What does Alpha have to do with any of this?”

“I don’t understand the theory behind erotic energy, but according to Zehd, every time a Quimtonian has sex with someone, their erotic energy fields merge. Even after they part, a tiny bit of Quimtonian erotic energy remains with their partner. It can linger for months or even years. In the Shade Circumference, Zehd commanded me to tell her who Captain Alpha had sex with most often. I tried not to tell her, but … everyone gossips about how close you are to Captain Alpha, Zelda. That’s when Zehd commanded me to trick you into using the Wand. She needs U4ia’s body to absorb the Quimtonian residue in your erotic energy field.”

This had gotten so weird that I didn’t know whether Sammie’s claims about erotic energy were insane ravings or made perfect sense. But it didn’t matter. “I’m not even going to try to understand any of that, Sammie. All I need to know is that Zehd wants me to have sex with U4ia. Therefore, it is the last thing I will ever do. Some of us aren’t quitters who have just surrendered to Zehd’s commands. I can’t have sex with her if I’m not here. Good-bye.” I spun on my heel to dash from the workshop—

Bam! I ran right into U4ia! Her dancing motions had maneuvered her directly behind me. Her synthetic skin was impossibly soft, smooth, and inviting. Her eyes were still closed, but I barely had a moment to be creeped out by that as she leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head, but U4ia took my face in her hands. She guided my mouth to hers with a gentleness that belied the massive artificial strength beneath it. Her lips touched mine with all the tender warmth of an old flame, while also offering the unique tingle of a new vibrator.

The thrill of the kiss resounded through every cell in my body. I leaned in, my tongue exploring her mouth with a deep thirst for pleasure. How could any two lips and a tongue feel so divine? I hadn’t been kissed so passionately since my beloved Al-Phae left for the stars.

Al-Phae! I needed stop this before it went too far and endangered Al-Phae! Using all my willpower to break the kiss, I whispered “U4ia … please ...”

Within seconds, her lips found mine again, their commanding kiss somehow hotter than it had been before my attempted escape.

Unable to break the kiss, I tried to wriggle my body free. U4ia’s hands roamed my curves with gentle squeezes and firm caresses. Somehow, whichever way I moved, her hands blocked my escape with another sensuous touch. My dress was inexplicably bunched around my waist and U4ia’s knee pressed between my trembling thighs, gentle but relentless. I could feel my body quickly building toward an orgasm.

No! Cumming for U4ia was the last thing I needed to do. But if I couldn’t escape, I’d have to think my way out of this sex trap. Unfortuntately, her honeyed kiss made thinking sweet, sticky, and slow. My body longed for her sweet, sensual touches. Surrendering to the pleasure was the path of least resistance. It was instinct.

Her skillful fingers tweaked a nipple. I moaned in her mouth.

Instinct! U4ia had instincts, too. As a sexbot, her instinct was to please her partner. If I couldn’t escape, maybe I could use those instincts against her. I had a plan that was just crazy enough to work.

Dragging my lips across her cheek, I whispered in U4ia’s ear. “Mmmm, I love to touch you, lover. Pleasing you pleases me. Let me go down on you.”

U4ia’s demeanor shifted. Her eyes still eerily closed, she leaned back on a nearby workbench. Gently tugging on my nipples, she pulled me closer. I knelt before her, sliding down her body. Her violet bush grazed my cheek and I began to lick her slick pussy lips. Artificially-sharp sweetness filled my mouth. Her body writhed with pleasure, even though she made no sound.

I poured every ounce of skill and arousal into devouring U4ia’s pussy. I needed to make her cum before I did. Sammie had said that the erotic energy of the first orgasm was vital to Zehd’s plan. If I could push U4ia to cum before I did, the first erotic energy wouldn’t have any trace of Quimtonian energy in it. Zehd’s plan would be foiled if I could just lick fast enough.

Even though she was the most silent lover I’d ever had, U4ia still found ways to arouse me. One leg wrapped around my head, holding me in place beneath her. Somehow, her other foot rubbed my own sex through my panties, continuing to drive me crazy with pleasure.

I could feel her body tense up as I suckled her clit between my lips.

She was close.

So was I.

Just a few more licks and—

“You look like you’re so close to cumming, Zelda.” Sammie purred behind me. “Let me help.”

Sammie yanked my soaking wet panties to the side. Something firm and smooth pressed between my thighs—the Wishful Wand! Driving it into my drenched pussy, she knew just how to find my sweetest, most sensitive spots. Every stroke was liquid, acid lust burning through my body, dissolving my mind, vaporizing my will, atomizing my very self in a white hot nova of bliss. I shrieked out my climax against U4ia’s pussy, thrashing with ecstasy that could not be denied.

My memories also couldn’t be denied. As my orgasm ripped through me, my body remembered the way Al-Phae had touched me the last night before she left for the stars. I had laid atop her in a sixty-nine as she floated four feet above my bed. It was like living two orgasms at once.

As my climax subsided, I realized I could remember everything about our last night together, except the way Al-Phae had made love to me that night. It was a jagged hole in my sense memory.

“Erotic energy capacitor initialization: Successful.” U4ia’s voice was even more mechanical and emotionless than I’d remembered. Somehow, we’d both slid to the floor. I found myself lying on top of her, struggling to catch my breath from the mind-bending orgasm.

“Wh-what … did you … do to me?” I muttered. I lacked the strength to lift my head, or even open my eyes.

“That’s a good question,” Sammie said. “Let’s find out. U4ia, do you detect Quimtonian erotic energy in the capacitor?”

“Affirmative,” U4ia said.

“Awesome! Good job, Zelda,” Sammie said. “U4ia, does the Quimtonian erotic energy meet minimum requirements?”

“Negative.”

I had to get some time to think. What had happened to me? I half-rolled, half-fell off U4ia onto the floor. Still too drained to open my eyes, I dragged myself away from where Sammie spoke softly with the gynoid. If I could make it to the hallway, perhaps Platinum Panther would find me. I wouldn’t need to tell her anything, my condition would be enough to let her know that something was seriously wrong.

“Not so fast, Zelda. We still need your help.” Sammie took my shoulder and rolled me onto my back. I couldn’t find the strength to stop her.

“I can’t help anymore, Sammie,” I muttered, trying to parse my experience into words. “You already took it. Took the one thing Al-Phae left me. Took my memory of her touch.”

“I don’t know about memories, Zelda, but I do know what U4ia’s sensors are telling me. She’s only absorbed the most recent layer of Quimtonian erotic energy from you. There are many layers left. She needs to absorb a lot more to be ready for Zehd’s arrival.”

“I can’t, Sammie. I can’t remember the last time she touched me.”

U4ia’s flat, mechanical voice answered me. “Assistance for memory processing is available. Look into my eyes.”

I tried to keep my eyes closed, but they opened despite me. U4ia knelt over me, a commanding presence. Between her legs, one end of the Wishful Wand protruded from her pretty pussy, hanging like a strapless phallus. I knew the sheen on its surface was from my own lust-juices.

“Look into my eyes,” U4ia commanded.

My gaze snapped to U4ia’s face. Her eyes were open wide. Too wide. Each eyeball was entirely a deep, opaque black, except for a tiny light flickering in their center. It was small but beautiful. “Wh-what is that?”

“Look deeper,” U4ia said as she spread my unresisting thighs.

I gazed deeper into the inky depths of her eyes. The rest of the room ceased to exist. The flickering light resolved into an image of Al-Phae. I could see just how she looked that last night. I could almost feel her touch. “Al-Phae … my love ...”

“Look deeper.” Something thick and hard slid across my thighs. As my gaze dove deeper into her eyes, the Wand dove deep into my pussy.

Beyond the vision of my last night with Al-Phae was another flickering image. This had been the day before she left. There was some trouble with cleaning up Queen Klitorya’s sex drones and Captain Alpha had needed a boost of erotic energy. I’d pulled her into the stall of a public restroom and kissed her passionately. Neither of us had gotten undressed. It was just a frantic, exciting flurry of fingers and lips and passion. Something stiff was thrusting inside of me just the way that Al-Phae’s fingers had when she made ... me … cum!

My whole body shook with a powerful orgasm, but my eyes never left U4ia’s. I fell deeper into them, offering up one memory after another. Lazy Sunday afternoons in my apartment. Delighting in her touch after she’d rescued me from supervillains. Secluded picnics on remote mountaintops only accessible by flying. Passionate flings in the depths of her Quimtonian Refuge. Every rendezvous with Alpha took me to relentless bliss once again, and then lived only inside U4ia’s eyes.

“Erotic energy capacitor has surpassed requirements.” U4ia closed her eyes and pulled away. The Wand slipped out of my throbbing pussy. I lay on the floor, gazing upwards but not really seeing anything. My whole body ached for a sensation I’d tasted a hundred times but could no longer remember.

“Good job, Zelda,” Sammie said, gazing down at me. “You’ve given me all the help I need. You’ve done exactly as Commissar Zehd commanded.”

My body came again, filled with irresistible pleasure at having obeyed my most hated enemy.

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

#skarletteone #mind control #flash fiction #superhero

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hils79 · 9 months

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Title: Any Port in a Storm

Fandoms: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei, 盗墓笔记重启 | The Lost Tomb Reboot (TV)

Relationships: Wang Can/Wang Pangzi

Summary:

“I—” Wang Can’s voice is weak and raspy. Far from the smooth confidence when Pangzi had interrogated him that one time. “I was in the area and, fuck, I didn’t know where else to go.”

Wang Can huffs out a soft approximation of a laugh. “This is the second time I’ve woken up on a sofa with you in front of me. Are you going to tie me up and threaten to set me on fire again?”

Not through any sort of verbal agreement, but they don’t talk about their past encounter. Wang Can doesn’t like being reminded of his time with Wangs, and Pangzi doesn’t like being reminded of the time he threatened to torture someone who was little more than a kid at the time.

“Depends how nicely you ask. Setting you on fire might be mercy anyway,” Pangzi snaps, more harshly than he’d intended in the face of what was little more than some gentle teasing. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Wang Can shrugs his uninjured shoulder. “Some asshole who hired me was trying to cover his footsteps. He got lucky. I’d have fixed it myself but he managed to hit me right in the spot where I can’t reach. So I just need you to pull it out, stitch me up and I’ll be on my way.”

He’s talking like this is an everyday occurrence and no big deal, instead of being weird and kind of fucked up. Who goes to someone for help who kidnapped them in the past? Imagine if Wu Xie had been home. “Hi, I know you wiped out the cult I was part of but can you do me a favour and pull this literal knife out of my back?” Or if it had been Xiaoge. “Yeah, the cult who raised me wanted to learn all your family’s secrets but I’m in a spot of bother.”

Really, it’s almost a blessing that Pangzi was the only one who was home.

“Does this look like a hospital to you? That’s where you should be. I’m not a doctor!”

He knows it’s not that simple, and he knows full well why people from their world can’t walk into a hospital where people would ask questions. Especially when there’s a knife sticking out of him. But, still, this seems like something more serious than either he or a village doctor who is used to doing routine check-ups for the elderly is equipped to deal with.

He doesn’t often miss his life in the city, but what he wouldn’t give right now to be able to call Xiao Hua, Huo Daofu or Liang Wan. It was so much easier when he had fully trained medical personnel just a short journey away.

“You were closer than a hospital,” Wang Can replies. His voice is a little softer than it was before and his words are slurring together. “I wouldn’t have come here if there was any other option.”

His eyes dart around the room and Pangzi has no idea what or who he’s looking for. Is he delirious? Does he have some sort of brain injury as well as the stab wound?

“Who are—”

“Does Wu Xie know I’m here?”

Ah.

Read the rest on AO3

#my fic #dmbj #pangcan #wang pangzi #wang can #pangchang week 2023

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determinedwriter · 6 months

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Whumptober 2023: No. 21: Alt 15: Reluctant Whumper

Tony

“Dad, Please!” Ro wails, tied to a chair. An invisible barrier keeps me away from her. “Dad, make it stop!”

I scream in protest at a dark, faceless figure who keeps beating on her. “Hey! Hey, leave her alone! Let her go! Ro! Ro!”

The figure turns to me and I stumble back in surprise at its now visible face. He doesn’t speak. He just stares. He is…me.

“Dad, why are you doing this?!” She sobs. “I’m sorry…please, I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s not me!” I stammer in shock and fear. “It’s not me! I’m coming! Hang on!”

I slam myself against the invisible barrier to no avail. “No! No!”

Ro slumps forward lifelessly, one last word on her lips. “Why?”

“NO!”

I wake up with a yell, Pepper startling me out of my nightmare. “Tony!”

“Huh?!” I gasp, looking around and trying to ground myself in reality. “O-Oh…”

“Are you alright?” Pepper asks. “You were screaming in your sleep, honey.”

I gulp and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, just a nightmare. I-I’ll be right back.”

She rubs my arm comfortingly. “Okay, babe.”

Making my way to Ro’s room, I open the door quietly. It’s still the middle of the night. My heart drops as I realize she’s not in bed. “Ro? Aurora?”

I turn on the light. “Ro!”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, where is she?” I ask the compound’s AI. “Where’s Ro?”

My AI doesn’t respond. Something is seriously wrong. “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

Nothing.

Checking my security system, I find that it has been hacked and disabled. Who could have done this? I’m good with my tech. Nobody can hack it. At least, that’s what I thought. Rebooting the whole thing, I find a video taken from the front door’s cameras just under an hour ago.

Ro opens the front door, still in her pajamas with a blanket around her. She takes a deep breath, taking in the night air. “Do you need anything, Miss Stark?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks her. She smiles a little at this. “No, just wanted air. I’ll come back inside in a minute.”

A figure with dark clothing approaches as she turns toward the front door, holding her in a headlock with a gun to her temple. “Don’t scream.”

Ro stays still, her blanket falling to the ground. “You don’t have to do anything rash.”

“Oh, but I do.” He tells me. “You’re Stark’s kid, yeah?”

She hesitates, telling the man all he needs to know. “That’s what I thought. Take down the security system. Don’t alert anyone or I swear to God I’ll blow your goddamn brains out.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Ro speaks shakily.

“Yes, Miss Aurora?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. asks.

“S-Shut down the security.” She stutters. “Please…”

“You will have to access the security through a computer with the passwords to everything,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. explains.

“Get it done.” The man growls.

“A.R.I.E.S?” Ro calls to her AI with an earpiece in her ear.

It’s like how F.R.I.D.A.Y. is connected to my glasses. She wears that earpiece everywhere. She made it herself like the smarty-pants Stark kid she is.

A.R.I.E.S speaks through the earpiece, not audible from the security footage. Ro uses her AI, its interface, and her own hacking skills to shut down the compound’s security, and the video goes dark after that.

I should have known. Ro’s my kid. I wouldn’t put it past her to be able to do this to the whole security system. She’s smart. She’s a Stark. And I’d be proud if I wasn’t so worried about her whereabouts.

With the security system now fixed, I quickly tell Pepper what’s going on. With everything that has happened since the Sokovia Accords, nobody else is ever really here other than Rhodey on occasion. And Vision whenever he’s not with Wanda.

God, I’d really like to have the Avengers here right now. I hate that we got broken up so badly and in such a huge way. But I can’t worry about that right now. I have to think about my daughter. About Ro.

I have Rhodes stay with Pepper for safety, putting on a suit of armor before leaving and surveying the area for clues. I’ve gotta find her…I’ve gotta find her.

I will find her.

I don’t immediately find anything, Ro being the reason I end up with any leads at all.

“Aurora is trying to call you through her earpiece, Mr. Stark,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs me.

I pick up immediately. “Ro?”

“Dad.” She whispers. “Dad I…”

Ro is so quiet that I can’t hear the rest of the sentence. “Kid, I need you to speak up a little. I can’t hear you.”

She stays silent, a low tapping sound starting over the call.

Two taps. A pause. Three more. Pause. Another. Five more, three, then one. Three. Five.

I wrack my brain for what this code is. It’s not Morse. I don’t know what kind of codes she might know.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, do you hear a pattern?” I ask.

“Boss, it seems to be tap code. It was used in Vietnam as a-” She explains.

“Got it. God, you’re smart, kiddo. You really are a mini Stark. Do that again.” I request.

Two, three, one, five, three, one, three, five.

H E L P flashes across my helmet interface. “Okay. Alright. I understand you. Give me anything you’ve got to help me find you, okay? I’m gonna come and find you. I promise.”

O K

“Good job, mini. I’m gonna have to ask you when you learned this. Once this is all over, I mean.” I reply.

D A R K

C O L D

D O N T

K N O W

W H E R E

“It’s alright. Just tell me whatever you can. Is it just one guy that took you? I found the security footage.” I tell her.

O N E

M A N

T A T S

M A S K

G R N E Y E S

“Tattoos, a mask, erm, green eyes?” I ask.

Y E S

“Alright…I’m trying to track you but I’m having some trouble here. Anything else?” I reply anxiously.

N O

I M

S C A R E D

I M

S O R R Y

I clench my teeth and try not to let my own fear show. “Don’t be sorry. And you don’t have to be scared. I’m coming.”

L O V E

Y O U

T O N S

“Love you tons, Ro.” My voice breaks a little.

There’s a sudden yell. “Did I tell you you could fucking move?!”

“Where am I?!” Ro exclaims.

“Daddy’s not gonna find you here. Not for a while. What are you doing in the corner there, huh?” He taunts her.

I hear Ro whimper. “Please let me go. I don’t know what you want!”

“Once your father is here I’ll-” He stops. “Do you have your fucking earpiece? I took that away you little shi-”

There’s commotion, ending in Ro’s scream. “No! Dad, don’t! Don’t come, it’s a trap! It’s-“

“We lost connection, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. informs me.

“Try to get her back. Try to track the damn signal. I need to find her now. I don’t care if it’s a trap…I’m saving my kid.” I growl angrily, hating the man for taking her.

I don’t even know who this bastard is.

“Boss, I’ve tracked a message.” She replies.

“A message?” I ask.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. hesitates. “It says…come and get her.”

“So be it,” I reply. “I’m gonna kill this bastard.”

Going to where F.R.I.D.A.Y. has tracked the message, I find a small clearing in the middle of the woods. At first, it doesn’t look like anything unusual.

But then I scan the ground and find a secret metal hatch. “Bingo.”

I easily cut a hole in the large door with my tech, stepping through and descending a set of stairs. Lights turn on as I move. Motion sensors.

It doesn’t matter if this guy knows I’m here. I don’t care about the possible trap. I just need to find Ro and get her the hell out of this place.

Entering a room at the bottom of the stairs, I find Ro tied to a chair. “Dad!”

“Thank God. I’m getting you out of here, kid.” I reply, stepping forward.

“Stop!” She screams. “Don’t-“

Getting closer, I am suddenly zapped backward by an invisible barrier. It reminds me of my nightmare. The nightmare that alerted me to this whole mess in the first place.

Laying on my back like a turtle in its shell, I watch my interface go dark. “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

Nothing. Suddenly, I’m jolted up, my suit forcing me to stand. I haven't even moved. And my armor is acting like Rhodey's did when Vanko hacked it years back. But my suit is upgraded. I changed it so that it can’t happen to any of the team or the suits again. How is this happening?

My armor forces me to turn back towards the door as someone enters, controlling the suit with a small device. “Hey, tin man.”

“The wisecracks are kind of my thing, though I shouldn’t worry about you stealing my thunder. That was terrible.” I quip. Honestly, sometimes I say these things without a second thought.

The man is as Ro briefly described. Partially masked and tattooed with some pretty striking green eyes. Almost like a snake’s.

His eyes wrinkle, making me assume he’s smiling. “Everything’s going as planned. Did you know the things your little girl is capable of? She’s the reason I was able to hack your suit.”

Though I am facing away from her, I can hear Ro cry out. “I’m sorry! He m-made me! I didn’t want-“

“It’s okay, Ro. I know. Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ve just gotta hang in there.” I reassure her quickly.

The man rolls his eyes. “How sweet. Alright, let’s move right along.”

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“I knew you’d step right into a trap if your daughter’s life hung in the balance. I’m sure you have a lot of enemies, Stark. You can’t be too surprised that Aurora has been thrown into the mix. It was only a matter of time until your mistakes hurt her. That…that is what this is.” He explains.

I grimace. “What’d I do to you, then?”

“You don’t care.” He accuses. “All you care about is yourself. At least…that was the case until you met her. It’s clear to me that you’d do anything to save your daughter. And because of what you and your company have done…the blood on your hands…that is the reason she’s about to die. And you’re going to be the one to kill her.”

The suit makes me turn around, walking towards Ro and past the invisible barrier that had previously subdued me. “Come on, F.R.I.D.A.Y. Come on, stop!”

My arm lifts, repulsor charging and pointing right at her head. “No, no, no, no!”

Firing against my will, I shout again. “Ro!”

She ducks her head down and out of the way, thankfully dodging the blast. “Ah!”

Ro tries to break out of her chair, having no luck. My faceplate lifts, allowing Ro to see my expression of terror. “Damn it, make it stop! Don’t make me hurt her! Goddamn it!”

Stuck in my own suit, I am unable to help it as my arm thrusts forward and punches Ro in the stomach. She doubles over in pain, seemingly trying to bite back a scream. “D-Dad…”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Ro, I’m so sorry.”

She winces. “L-Love you tons.”

“Love you tons,” I reply. “Always.”

“Alway-” Ro is interrupted by another hit, opening a gash on her face.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, come back.” I plead. “Make this stop. Come on, don’t do this!”

My armor forces my hand around her throat and I try to pull away, having no luck. “No!”

Ro struggles to breathe, starting to choke. I yell again. “Don’t! Don’t! Let her go!”

“This is all you, Stark.” The man taunts.

Using every bit of my strength, I try to regain control. My body betrays me no matter how hard I try to keep my fingers loose, they cling to her neck until her lips are blue. “No, no, no…no. Ro, I love you. I’m gonna make it stop. I-I…”

I’m unable to see it, but I hear a crash behind me. “Shit, Tony! Stop!”

“Oh yeah, sure I’ll just stop!” I reply sarcastically. “He has control of the damn suit!”

Suddenly, my hand releases her and she slumps back, unconscious. “Ro!”

Finally able to control my suit, I turn around and see Natasha. “Thanks…”

She looks different from when I last saw her. She has medium-length blonde hair. “Don’t mention it, Seriously, don’t. Secretary Ross will be on my ass.”

Nat’s a fugitive. She’ll be arrested. But she’s still my friend. And she just saved my daughter’s life.

The green-eyed man is unconscious on the floor, courtesy of Nat. I nod at her. “Won’t hear a peep from me.”

Ro comes to as Nat unties her, eyes widening. “N-Natasha?”

She grins. “Hey, kid.”

“You’re blonde.” Ro comments.

“You’re bigger,” Nat replies. “How old are you now?”

“Sixteen.” She tells her.

Nat helps her out of the chair and hugs her. “Look at you, all grown up.”

Ro buries her head into Nat’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ve missed you, Auntie Nat.”

“Missed you too, little firecracker.” Nat coos.

Ro moves to my embrace, crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hacked the security and the suit and…”

“It’s alright. A-Are you in pain?” I ask, seeing the marks on her neck.

She hesitates but nods. “I’m fine.”

Her voice shakes, betraying her facade of strength. I hold her shoulders. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Ro breaks down into tears, trying to stifle her sobs. “D-D-Dad…”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh…I’ve got you. It’s you and me. We’re safe. I’m gonna take you home now, okay?” I reassure her.

“Okay.” Ro mumbles.

Nat and I help her out of there, leaving the god-awful place behind.

Now that I have her back, I’ll never let her go.

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thebaddestofbatches · 3 years

Text

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

Text

Dad...I’m Bilingual

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.”

Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?”

“Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age.

When he wakes up, the first thing that Dick’s sluggish mind can latch onto is how tingly his tongue feels. His taste buds buzz like someone poured a can of Pepsi into his mouth while he was sleeping, bubbles tickling the path down. Or maybe pop rocks. Or tiny little bumblebees, their legs scritching and scratching the surface they tread. The tingling spreads outward, Dick notices as he careens toward the wakeful part of wakefulness. Mouth to neck to torso to fingers to the cement block that he is pretty sure used to be his right leg. Soda and pop rocks and bees, the whole way. A quiet, questioning groan slips through Dick’s heavy lips. He cracks his eyes open and squints, blinking against the unforgiving brightness of the room he’s in. “Mm. Bruce?” A nearby chair squeaks. “Dick? Are you awake?” Bruce’s voice is uncomfortably close, booming in the short space between them. Dick grimaces. “C’n you...back up? Your breath smells like meatloaf.” He opens his eyes fully and is greeted by Bruce’s lined face, bags sagging under his eyes. They’re in a hospital room, white walls and white sheets.

Bruce’s meatloaf breath huffs once in amusement, then retreats. “I’ll take that to mean you’re back up, then.” In his lap is a magazine laid open to a page that’s all squiggles and bumbled lines. It matches the rest of the room. Dick’s head swims.

The numbness has receded mostly now that Dick is back online, but his stubborn cement leg takes longer to reboot. “Feels like I died. Then came back to life. Then died again.” His mind churns slush and soup. “You did just get out of surgery,” Bruce tells him. “Leslie said you’ll be woozy for a few hours.” Dick frowns. “I can’t feel my leg.” He has to parse his words carefully, his mouth working slowly like his muscles have melted into molasses. “I should hope not. You just had your knee put back together.” That part sounds...somewhat familiar? Dick has mismatched memories of surfing a stop sign across Clayface’s back, then sirens so loud and so close they split his head in half. He remembers Leslie yelling into one ear while the other listened to Bruce and Steph arguing about a video she uploaded to the Batman Incorporated Twitter account. That was completely irresponsible, Bruce said, out of his Batman suit and in one of the backup outfits he has stored in Leslie’s office for nights like that one. You’re lucky he only broke his knee. That stunt earned the Bat brand fifty Twitter followers, Steph snarked back. I need a goddamn vacation, Leslie said. “Tim left to crash a jet ski in the harbor,” Bruce continues, though Dick doesn’t remember asking, “so your alibi is taken care of. Jason and Cass went to track down the pudding cart, and Alfred took Damian home to sleep.” The half-drawn curtains make it hard to decide if that’s a sunrise or a sunset he’s seeing. Either way, it speaks to long hours of sitting and waiting and hoping. “I think…” Dick licks his dry lips. “I think they cut my leg off?” It feels like it. Did Leslie take his leg away as punishment for being dumb? Is the hospital hiding it from him? Bruce snorts. “Then what is that?” He gestures to Dick’s leg, the entire thing encased in weighty layers of gauze and plaster. “An imposter,” Dick says. Duh. “They gave me fake metal parts like Vic.” Dick slumps against the pitifully flat pillow behind his head. “My brain feels fuzzy. Did they take stuff out of my head?” That would explain the foggy memories and the way all of his words swim away from him like he’s been plunged underwater. Underwater hospital. Now there’s an idea. “You’re on painkillers,” Bruce says plainly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his magazine. “Heavy ones, it looks like.” Dick can’t remember if painkillers are supposed to feel like bumblebees buzzing around inside his thoughts. Maybe they’re made of honey. “Y’know, last time I woke up all confused in a hospital room, a bullet stole secrets from my head.” Bruce looks pained. “I assure you that all of your secrets are intact this time around.” Dick hums. “You should...take the painkillers out.” “Why is that?” “‘Cause I don’t wanna spill stuff.” Bruce frowns. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Dick wonders if he spoke in Portuguese by mistake. Bruce places his magazine on the plastic chair beside him. “Well, I can’t take out the IV because you’ll be in pain, but I promise you that the room is safe. Tim checked for bugs.” Why a bug would be in the human hospital, Dick doesn’t know. He shakes his head. The front pieces of his hair fall into his eyes, but his arms are too tired to fix it. “That doesn’t work, ‘cause then...then you’ll know. And that’s bad.” “This isn’t about your secret identity, is it?” Another head shake. “I might acci-mentally tell you ‘bout how I spilled tapioca on the Batmobile’s seats.” Bruce’s eyes widen. “That was you?” “Yeah, but don’t tell Bruce, ‘kay? You gotta promise.” Bruce rubs his temples like he’s sleepy. “I spent ten minutes yelling at Jason for that. I made him clean the seats.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an asshole.” Dick huffs, blowing at his pesky bangs until Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes them back for him. “Thank you.” “I appreciate you telling me about the tapioca. We’ll talk more about that when you’re sober.” Dick makes a face. “The whole point’s that I can’t tell you about the tapioca. It’s a secret. I’ve got too many of those—a whole big fuckin’ army of secrets. And it’s too many. No fun when you can’t share ‘em.” “What about Nightwing?” Bruce asks. “‘S different. You already know that one. I can share it.” “But you can’t share the other ones,” Bruce finishes. Dick snaps his fingers. “Zactly.” Bruce studies Dick—his bundled-up leg and the clear bag hanging on the hook beside his bed, pumping drugs into his bloodstream. “I should let you rest.” He starts to get up, the action somehow guilty despite there being no inherent guilt in vacating a chair. Bruce can pour guilt into anything if he tries hard enough. “You wanna know the worst part?” Dick continues on like Bruce hadn’t spoken, words spilling freely over compromised lips. “I could tell you. I could. But I’m a scaredy cat, so I can’t.” Reluctantly, Bruce sits back down. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re very brave.” “I’m not. If I was, I’d be able to tell you, because I know you’ll still love me no matter what I am, and I’m still scared. And that’s what scaredy cats do. They run away.” When Bruce’s face wears that expression, that gentle turn of his mouth and that pang in his eyes, Dick is stricken by memories of being nine years old. He’d go out every night in the Robin suit, wearing it like a suit of armor and trusting that nothing could hurt him. Bruce would be there by his side, protecting his Robin from harm at all costs. His soul wrapped around Dick’s like a second layer of armor, and it was then that Dick started to wonder if it was possible to have two fathers. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes,” Bruce tells him now. “There is if you’re a superhero.” “Even then. Sharing a secret can be a scary thing, even when you know it’s safe. That’s why they stay secret for so long.” If Dick didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce already knew what Dick desperately wanted and didn’t want to say. But not even Batman can read minds. Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.” Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?” “Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age. Bruce leans back in his chair with an odd, bemused expression. It’s not an angry one—more like when he’s cracked a case and lets the truth soak in. What case he’s cracked, Dick doesn’t know. Puzzlement morphs into something soft. “Okay. You’re bisexual. That’s not so bad.” “Yeah. But it would change stuff if you knew.” “Not exactly,” Bruce says. “You’re still you, Dick. Nothing’s changed—not really.” “Mm.” Dick’s chest warms. That must be a delayed effect of the painkillers, surely. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, then. Later,” he amends. “When my head’s not full of mothballs.” “Sure, son.” Bruce reaches out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

#HELLO FOLKS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY #i didn't even tend to post this on father's day but y'know what it makes sense #there's never enough good dad bruce content out there #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #batfam #bisexual dick grayson #bi dick grayson #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #pride month #lgbtq #bisexual

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

Text

Tulips And I Bloom In The Spring

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem Reader

Requested by @thesupremeswife (the request with the photo) (I’m not posting the photo here because it’s too big and idk how to make it smaller). It’s just fluff because I was angry. I hope you’ll like it, xuxu, and I hope you’ll feel better soon <3

A/N: John Belushi died at the Château Marmont. That’s not really important to understanding the fic but I don’t like leaving out details. As always, English isn’t my mother tongue. x

Word count: ≈ 4 000

There was a clearing in the forest in the city where you lived, with a stream that flowed lazily through a field of red and yellow tulips. By the stream there were ruins of what had once been a manor. The roof had collapsed, and only the walls still stood. By the wall facing the stream there was a rock and on that rock you liked to sit. In the hottest days you would dip your feet in the fresh water and look at the tulips swaying gently in the breeze.

This clearing was your spot. You would come here when the city grew too loud and you felt like you were drowning. Barely anyone else knew of it. If it started raining when you were there, you’d take shelter under the trees, and if the wind blew the rain a little too hard, you’d lean against one of the walls of the manor to protect yourself from it. It was perfect. It was quiet and lonely and yours.

Sometimes a stranger would walk by and admire the tulips and shoot you a curious glance. You ignored them. Sometimes they would try to start a conversation. You ignored them. You were disappointed in the world and didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

One day in spring as you lay on the soft grass by the ruins, you were startled from your reading by a chatter of voices. A group of people emerged from the forest. A family going on a picnic, you thought. You focused on your book again. But the voices grew louder, and out of the corner of your eye you saw the party cross the stream and saunter towards you.

With an annoyed groan you sat up, set your book on your lap, and raised one hand to shield your eyes from the sun. You noticed one of the men was carrying a camera.

The woman who seemed to be leading the group – she was wearing high-heels in a forest; who wore high-heels in a forest? She was stupid and shallow, you decided – came to a halt in front of you and shot you a dazzling smile.

“So sorry to bother you, dear. Would you mind moving over there?”

“Why?” you retorted moodily. “I was here first.”

The sun hung pearls of light on your eyelashes. You couldn’t see the woman’s features very well.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” she repeated with another charming smile. “We’re here to work and we really need you to move to the other side of the clearing.”

“Well,” you retorted, “I’m really sorry, but I’m not moving.”

That being said, you lay back down on the grass and opened your book to resume your reading.

The man carrying the camera mumbled something you couldn’t hear. The woman raised one hand to shush him. She looked at you, cocking her head.

“Did you know,” she said in a casual, polite voice, “that this place is haunted?”

You ignored her. You knew what she was doing, trying to scare you so you’d leave.

“I’m to make contact with the spirit who’s trapped in these ruins. Tom here is her great grandson.”

“Right,” you mocked, not averting your gaze from your book, “and I’m the pope and I’m here to have a picnic with Jesus.”

You heard the woman sigh. You couldn’t help but shoot her a glance. She raised one hand to her hair, combed her fingers through a golden lock with a graceful, affected gesture.

“Never mind,” she said. “Stay here if you want, but know you’ll be in the shot. Come on, boys. Be careful not to step on the pope.”

You snorted.

You pretended to read as the little group walked around you and settled by the ruins. You watched them out of the corner of your eye.

A tall man who carried himself as if he were the most important person on the planet, strode around the ruins with one hand stroking his chin, muttering remarks for an assistant to scribble down on a notebook. The woman in high-heels disappeared inside the manor and came back ten minutes later, looking pleased. She winced as someone with a round reflector threw sunlight in her eyes.

You decided they were here to shoot a movie and this woman was the main star. There was no way she had told you the truth. Spirits and ghosts and haunted ruins didn’t exist. Maybe you would have believed in them had you still been a child. What you did believe in, though, was liars. People who smiled pretty smiles and used pretty words to manipulate you and get what they wanted. You knew what life was like. A constant battle, everyone protecting themselves from each other.

A few minutes later, a man walked up to you carrying a box and said: “Billie Dean says I have to do your makeup since you’ll be in the shot.”

“What the fuck?” you growled, glancing up at the man. He was young, and looked pretty uncomfortable.

Behind him you heard Billie’s voice call tauntingly: “Cannot have this messy head of hair of yours in my show.”

You sat up, shot her a look. “Excuse me?” you growled.

Billie was standing in the main doorway of the ruins, fluffing her hair, not looking at you.

“It’s not my fault you refused to move,” she sang. She turned to you, flashed you a smile – arrogant, smug, infuriating.

The man crouched down beside you and opened his box. Inside were two eyeshadow palettes, brushes, an array of lipsticks, foundation, mascara and things you were seeing for the first time in your life. The man cocked his head and squinted at you, as if considering which colour would fit you best.

“What the – “You stood up as he took a brush out from the box. “Don’t you dare touch me or I’ll kick you.” You clenched your fists, turned to Billie Dean. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars,” she grinned. “I’m merely trying to do my job, dear.”

For a few seconds you scowled at her. Then you picked up your book and stomped to the other side of the clearing.

“Thank you so much!” Billie chimed.

You ignored her.

You opened your book and tried to read, but the words didn’t make sense. Vague anger was gnawing at your heart. You rolled over to your side, but it wasn’t comfortable enough. You lay on your stomach, but it hurt your neck. With an annoyed huff you sat up, crossed your legs, and watched the tulips.

Your eyes drifted to the manor. Billie Dean was standing in the doorway, talking to the man called Tom. You finally took the time to really look at her. A white lace dress that clung to her waist, pale pink acrylics, lips painted a soft red. You stared at her bare legs and suddenly it was too hot in the clearing. Certainly the sun had moved a few inches closer to Earth.

Tom nodded, turned, and disappeared inside the ruins. Billie Dean lingered in the doorway, and part of you suspected she wanted you to admire her. You told yourself you wouldn’t, just to spite her. You turned your attention back to your book and scowled at the page.

You didn’t know how to read anymore. Your eyes kept going back to Billie.

And then she ran one hand through her hair, once, twice, three times, turned and flashed you a smug smile before she walked inside the ruins.

With an angry groan you lay down on the grass and closed your eyes. You were sweating, your heart was beating too fast. After a moment you opened one eye. The clearing was deserted. The tulips swayed gently in the breeze. It looked exactly the same as a few minutes before, and yet something had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint what. Something in the air, maybe, something you couldn’t see but breathed, and it went through your lungs and contaminated the very cells in your body.

An hour later you decided it was time to go home. You hadn’t read a single page and there was no point in staying here. But your body refused to move. So you decided you’d take a nap. You closed your eyes, rested both hands on your stomach. You listened to the whisper of the breeze in the trees and the songs the birds were chirping at the sun and the soft muttering of the stream. All of nature was alive, and all of nature had been contaminated by that new thing in the air because now all of nature was singing of her.

A shadow fell on you. You opened one eye and shot up.

Billie smiled that arrogant smile of hers and arched an eyebrow. “Would you fancy a drink?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open. You closed it. “What?”

“We’re done here, and I thought,” she pointed one long finger at you, “that I could buy you a drink to thank you for being so accommodating.”

You stared at her finger for way too long. When your brain rebooted, you tried to give her a look, but the sun was in your eyes and made you wince.

You ordered your mouth to say “No”, but your mouth said “Yes”. The smile it drew from Billie was worth it, though.

“Splendid!” she exclaimed, curling her finger and touching the tip of it to her palm. “I know just the place for you.”

The place in question was a very fancy, very bucolic coffee shop on a river bank. You sat down at a round table on the terrace with a vase of roses in the middle. Billie took the liberty to order a glass of lemonade for you, and sat back in her chair as she lit a cigarette.

You didn’t realize you were staring at her until she teasingly blew smoke in your direction and asked you if there was something on her face.

“Jeez, no, you look perfect,” was what came out of your mouth. You silently scolded yourself.

“Why, thank you,” Billie smiled. “I had a feeling I was to meet a pretty girl today, so I had to make sure I looked my best.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You won’t fool me with all this seducing of yours,” you said, squaring your shoulders to look fierce. “I don’t care for crooks.”

Billie arched an eyebrow. Her smile became polite. “You think I’m a crook?”

“Talking to spirits?” You snorted. “Yeah, I think you’re a crook.”

“I’d have to be one crazy masochist to have willingly chosen this life, wouldn’t I?”

You shrugged. “How could I know?”

Billie blew out smoke, crossed her legs and threw her head back.

“So you don’t believe in what I do?” she asked in a sweet voice.

You held her gaze. “No.”

An amused smile. “And yet here you are, having a drink with me. I wonder why.”

You tried to think of a witty answer, but your brain was empty of words. Thankfully you were saved by the arrival of the waiter, who set your drinks on the table and flashed Billie an enamored smile.

The sun was setting and splattering the river with blinding specks of light. Billie closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. You sipped your drink, and tried – but failed – not to blush when she caught you staring.

You straightened your shoulders, cleared your throat. You said, to distract her attention from your reddening face, that you would watch the next episode of her show. She laughed, threw back her head again, and lit another cigarette.

After that there were a few minutes of silence as Billie watched you and you pretended not to watch her. You turned your head and stared at the river.

Billie took your hand in both of hers. You shot her a glance.

“Do you often think such dirty things while contemplating the sunset?” she taunted, mischief glinting in her eyes.

“Excuse me?”you blurted out.

She smirked. “I can see what you’re thinking, dear. That’s part of my gift.”

You stiffened in your chair, heat rising to your head. You had half a mind to withdraw your hand from her grip. You decided not to.

“What’s the point anyway?” you asked her after a few long, uncomfortable seconds had passed. “I’m not into one-night stands.” You paused. “They make me sad.”

Billie hummed. For a second she looked almost wistful. Then she started stroking her thumb on the back of your hand.

Her fingers were cold. You wondered if pressing them against your mouth would warm them up.

When you both decided it was time to leave, Billie insisted she paid for your drink. You stood awkwardly behind her as she laughed with the waiter, then followed her out.

On the threshold you stopped and met her eyes. She gave you a smile.

“Well then, darling, I guess this is goodbye,” she said.

You shrugged. You looked down, toed at the ground. You saw Billie Dean’s shadow move on the concrete, sliding closer to you – and then you felt her lips, hot and soft, plant a sweet kiss on the right side of your jaw.

Your heart jumped. You took a sharp intake of breath, eyes growing wide as Billie lay one hand on your cheek to guide your head towards hers. She pressed her mouth against yours, barely touching, and pulled away before you could register what was happening, but it left you shivering and burning and aching for more.

She met your eyes again and smirked, arrogant and confident and so goddamn irritating. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she hummed. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The day after, you went back to the clearing. You pretended you didn’t know why. You pretended it was because the weather was warm and the so sky blue and the sun so bright.

The air in the clearing was still full of Billie. The place had been irremediably contaminated by her. It would never be the same now. It wasn’t peaceful anymore; it sang of longing and desire.

You walked into the ruins and lay your hands on the walls and pricked up your ears. You called out loud to the spirit, before deciding you were stupid. There was no such thing as ghosts.

When you turned to leave, Billie Dean was leaning in the doorway, watching you. A huge grin tugged at her lips.

You met her eyes and felt heat flood your cheeks and ears.

“Um,” you said.

“I’m the only one who can hear her, baby doll,” Billie sang. She ran her eyes up and down your body, and licked her lips.

Your eyes flicked down to them.

“I don’t believe you,” you heard yourself say. “I don’t believe ghosts are real.”

Billie’s grin grew. She straightened up and walked towards you.

“Then why are you trying to communicate with them?” she whispered, like a secret, as she came to a halt right in front of you. Your gaze drifted from her lips to her eyes.

“What is the ghost saying to you?” you asked.

Billie chuckled, raised one finger. “Spirit, dear.”She brushed the tip of her finger over your lip. “She’s saying,” Billie went on, her voice dropping an octave lower, “what a beautiful young thing you are, and I would be a fool not to kiss you.”

You shivered at how dark Billie’s eyes were. Without thinking, you nipped her finger.

The dark in Billie’s eyes turned predatory. She smirked, slipped one arm around your waist and pulled you close.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. Your skin tingled where her arm touched you. You put one hand on her chest to hold her back.

“Why are you here?” you breathed.

“I am being,” she answered, eyes flicking to your mouth, “irresistibly drawn to you.”

Your brain was empty of thoughts. It wasn’t a brain anymore but a recipient made to contain Billie’s scent, Billie’s warmth, Billie’s touch, Billie’s everything. “I don’t believe in love at first sight,” you heard yourself whisper.

Your mouth was dangerously close to hers. Her breath was tickling your lips with every exhale. Her breath was silk, and it caressed your skin.

Billie chuckled. “There’s a lot of things you don’t believe in, sweetheart.” She stroked the corner of your mouth with her thumb again, and you gave in.

Billie grinned into the kiss as if she had won some kind of war and you mumbled, “Shut up”, because she had, in a way. But dear you, she was irresistible and you wanted – needed – all of her.

She must have been right, after all. There was something, some kind of force, drawing you towards each other. You had never felt this way before, this level of want, this carnal need to be with her and know what it really meant to make one with someone. You were certain the moment you’d touch her, your soul would be healed.

Billie slid her tongue inside your mouth and you moaned softly, dug your finger into her butt in retaliation.

Billie shuddered. “Take me to your place, now,” she rasped.

“It’s too far away,” you whined, desperately pushing your hips against hers.

Billie chuckled. She pressed her mouth to your jaw, peppered delicious kisses down your neck that drew another moan from you.

“There’s a hotel right at the edge of this wood. Close,” you breathed.

“Close,” Billie breathed back. You felt her shiver against you at the promise this word held. “Oh God, close.”

When you woke up the next morning, the bed was empty. You extended your arm, patting the mattress, finding nothing. Your eyes shot open. You sat up, dread tightening your throat, when you finally realized you could hear the sound of the shower running. Billie’s clothes still lay on the floor where she had abandoned them. Steam curled out from the slightly-opened bathroom door.

With a relieved sigh you slumped back onto the bed. A smile tugged at your mouth as you buried your face in the sheet. You rubbed your nose on Billie’s pillow to catch a whiff of her perfume.

Part of you was screaming for you to just grab your things and run away. There was no plausible scenario in which this could end well. You and Billie lived two very different lives, and you were you, and Billie Dean was… Billie Dean. She was perfect and charming and successful in every way.

But then – but then there was that other part of you which was singing. It was so deliriously happy and it was begging you to try. Give her a chance. Don’t let her go. Do anything, give anything to make her stay.

You opened your eyes and raised your head when you heard footsteps. Billie met your eyes, froze, smiled a rather nervous smile.

The air left your lungs. She was wearing a grey tank top and white panties. Her hair was still damp from the shower, not yet brushed, and her face was completely makeup-free. She obviously looked a bit uncomfortable, as she picked her clothes from the floor and held them against her stomach.

“Good morning,” she said softly. “I’m sorry, I thought you were still asleep.” She gave you another nervous smile. “What are you staring at?”

“You,” you blurted out. You blinked, cleared your throat. “I love your face with no makeup on.”

“Oh.” She chuckled, lowered her head. “I’m not looking my best.”

“Nonsense,” you replied fiercely. “You look stunning.”

She peeked up at you, a soft blush blooming in her cheeks. You bit your lower lip and opened your arms. “Come here and give me a hug?”

Billie seemed to hesitate. Her body leaned towards the bathroom, then towards you. She dropped her clothes on the floor and hurried to you.

With a giggle you pulled her down with you, resting one hand on the nape of her neck to guide her mouth to yours. You opened your eyes during the kiss to admire her.

When Billie pulled away, she sat on the bed next to you and sighed happily. You leaned towards her, combed her hair back from her face and gathered it in one hand. Then you reached for your phone and, before she had time to realize what you were doing, you snapped a photo of her.

“Y/N,” she laughed, half-amused, half-embarrassed.

You frowned at your phone. “Wait, it’s bad,” you whined. “I can only see the top of your head.” You raised your phone. “Let me take another, come on, look at me pretty please.”

Billie laughed again, louder. “I’ll let you take all the photos you want once I’ve made myself up, baby doll,” she sang.

She made to stand up, but you grabbed her arm and pulled her back down so she was lying on top of you.

“Don’t go,” you whispered against her mouth. “Stay here with me forever. Let’s never leave this bed.” Billie hummed, planted a lazy kiss on your collarbone. “I don’t care about your ghosts. They can survive without you.”

Billie chuckled. She raised her head, and you automatically buried your fingers in the long, damp locks of hair that framed her face.

“Spirits, dear,” she corrected you. She lowered her head again, pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck.

“Spirits,” you breathed. Billie was kissing a trail up your neck, her mouth hot and wet. You shivered, wrapped your arms around her waist. You pushed your head back to give her more access.

You knew it wasn’t wise or safe to offer this complete stranger intimacy and vulnerability on a silver platter, with a curtsey to boot. But it felt like you knew her, somehow – or rather, it felt like something deep inside you knew her, had known her in another life maybe, and was slowly waking up to her touch. Coming home.

And you knew you were supposed to be done with the world, supposed to be disappointed in it, supposed to be disillusioned, but you didn’t want to be disillusioned anymore. You wanted to find again the capacity to hope and to dream and most of all to believe without a doubt that your dreams would come true.

You sucked on her lower lip when her mouth met yours, and whispered, almost angrily, “What do you hope to get from this? Us? Because I don’t want a fucking remake of The Bridges of Madison County. Will you promise me never to break my heart?”

She pulled away to look at you. Her brow furrowed.

“I’m afraid I cannot promise you that, my love.”

“Will you promise me you’ll try?”

A smile. A poke on your nose. “That I can do.”

“Will you take me to the Château Marmont? I’ve always wanted to spend a night there.”

Billie chuckled, buried her face in your neck. She held you close, as if you were something precious, as if she were coming home, too.

You brushed back a strand of her hair to whisper in her ear, “You can’t say no. I’ve got a picture of you barefaced. ”

“Fine,” Billie laughed, her voice muffled against your skin. “Cocktails with John Belushi are at 6pm every Friday. I’m pretty sure he’ll have a great time trying to scare you.”

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills

#ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #fics

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fan-written · 3 years

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They're So Tiny!

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint challenge this week

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6/17/2021 Prompt, “I need a favor.” “I’ll do whatever you need.” “I need you to marry me.”

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“Hello-”

“Luka? Luka, are you there?”

Her voice was panicked, but Luka smiled as he tried to interrupt her rambling words. Finally she took a breath and he could speak. “Yes Marinette, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“I need a favor. Like a huge one. So big and I just know you’re going to say no, but I honestly can’t think of any other way I’ll be able to do it.” She took another gasping breath and Luka once again used the chance to talk.

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Melody.” Luka settled against the wall behind his bed, phone to his ear and guitar forgotten across his lap. Old habits die hard when you lived your life on a houseboat. “Now take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Marinette listened, taking more than one slow breath to calm down. Luka could hear her rustling, or maybe tearing, paper through the phone. “Okay, so it’s a little crazy, but I need you to marry me.”

He choked. Luka knew he was choking but he couldn’t even reassure Marinette that he was okay when all he heard was the blood rushing through his ears.

“-crazy. But there were two of them and they were so sad. And it was obvious that they weren’t being fed right. Like I can feel their ribs, Luka! Who lets such small beings go hungry?”

Luka tried to figure out what she was talking about, but she must have told him in between his brain short circuiting and the forceful reboot his lungs initiated, reminding him he needed to breathe. And she, the love of his life, his very best friend, and his very much NOT girlfriend, was still talking.

“So I brought them home. I’ve filled out all the paperwork for them, and they are going to be living with me now. But Luka! I can barely get myself to work on time, let alone take care of two more! So I knew I needed help. And I thought maybe I could share custody with Adrien. But he’s spent soooooo much time around Plagg that I’m not sure I can trust him to not get too playful with them. Plus I see him often enough as it is. Alya is home even less than I am. Also I’d never want to co-parent with her. I love her, but she only knows how to care for zoo animals. My babies are not zoo animals!”

Luka couldn’t help but chuckle. He was starting to get a little worried that Marinette had adopted two childr- No, she wasn’t that reckless.

“So anyway, I have so many friends, but the only one I want in my life that much is you, Luka. But, like you don’t live with me so how would you help me raise my babies? And probably take care of me, because I’ve only had them for a few hours and I’m already a mess. But my apartment doesn’t allow coed roommates, which means you’d have to marry me. They’re so little but I can’t do it on my own. So yeah. Luka Couffaine, will you marry me?”

It was silent. Luka knew he should answer, but that was a lot to unpack. Marinette seemingly adopted two kids. That was a mess he should probably figure out first. Except his mind kept getting stuck on how HE was the one she wanted to help raise them.

“L-Luka?” She was so hesitant, something he hadn’t heard in her voice since she applied to ESMOD. “Luka, you can say no. I’m, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I’m sorry. I-I’ll just, I’ll talk to you later.”

He could hear her start to hang up, but he knew if he didn’t stop her now their relationship would never be the same. Not that it would stay the same now anyway. Not if he could help it.

“Marinette! Wait.” He scrambled off his bed, guitar falling to the side. He needed to get to her, now. “I’m sorry. It’s just a surprise. I mean, I can’t believe you adopted two kids-”

Her laugh cut him off, startling him into falling from where he was hopping on one foot, trying to pull his shoe on. “Kids? Luka, weren’t you listening? I adopted two hamsters!” She burst into giggles and a layer of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying melted off his shoulders. He would have handled kids, it would have been fine. But he had hoped to date her before bringing kids into the mix. Hamsters were a much easier problem to deal with.

He laughed, slowing his mad dash for the door and actually matching his shoes this time. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that Mari. I wasn’t sure I was ready for kids yet, but I can definitely help you raise a pair of hamsters. We might want to wait until we go on a few dates first before we talk about marriage though.” He smirked at her squeak in his ear, not unlike the pair of rodents she now cared for.

“I panicked, okay.” She groaned again with his sarcastic 'Oh really? I didn’t notice.'

“Yes, really. I just. I needed help and I needed someone who could be that steady presence next to me, telling me I could do this. That I hadn’t made a stupid decision. Who would be ready to help me, if I needed it. And I thought about it more and I realized that what I really needed was you, Luka. You’ve always been there for me and the only way I could really explain it in the middle of my panic was by asking you to marry me.”

Hearing her ask him to marry her brought her song to the front of his mind clearer than ever. He didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing that. Especially with the hope that it could someday become true.

“I’m going to have to hear you say that every day for the rest of our lives, Melody.” He grasped his keys and locked his door behind him. “But first, I’m on my way over. I’ll help you get your new pets settled, then maybe you’ll let me take you on a proper date. Does, does that sound okay?” He was only a little worried that he’d read the situation wrong, but the smile in her voice soothed those fears.

“Yeah, Luka. That sounds great.”

#lukanette #pro lukamari #lbsc sprint fic challenge

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fbfh · 3 years

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here’s to always finding each other

pairing: percy x gn child of calliope reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: percy kisses reader following a prior agreement that they don’t remember but it’s 100% consentual, you work retail, a hell yeah, memory loss, I think that’s it

summary: You didn’t really expect to have to spend your entire eight hour shift organizing shoe wax any more than you expected your fictional crush from middle school to be real and your boyfriend. Only one of those happened (and the shoe wax was still very disorganized when you left).

song rec: this lofi mix, boba manifesto - chris flemming (mostly as a joke but it slaps)

a/n: i am wOrKiNg oN tHiNgS!!!!!! It’s going well!!! expect some fun surprises soon!!!!!!!!!

Crouched down on the ground, rearranging an end cap of shoe wax in the men’s department wasn’t really what you thought being a grownup would be like as a kid. You can’t complain too much, the pay is pretty good and working conditions are decent - as much as they can be in retail. You stand up to check your progress (and stretch your legs) and notice that guy is still there. He’s been hovering around the athletic shirts and pants for a while, and he keeps checking his phone and looking around. You’re sure he’s probably just waiting for someone, but you’re considering asking if you can help him find anything.

He has a vaguely familiar energy, and your stomach drops for a moment, hoping you don’t know him from school or something. God, that would be a nightmare. That’s happened to you once or twice, bumping into someone you went to school with, and it’s always as bad as you expect.

‘You know what,’ you think, trying to see if you can fit the last few containers of wax on the shelf without making them topple over, ‘he’s probably fine. If he needs help he’ll ask for it.’

You go back to scanning and adjusting the prices of the clearance shoe polish - the company had changed their packaging recently, so it’s out with the old and in with the identical - but you still can’t shake the feeling of familiarity.

He turns around, holding up an orange shirt that says ‘go for it’ in a ridiculous font, and you get a glimpse of his face.

You crouch back down so he won’t catch you staring, and the realization dawns on you. He looks a lot like Percy Jackson from the books you read in middle school. Or was it high school? Everything between 6th grade and high school graduation is kind of blurry and confusing in your memory. Man, you should really re-read those, you heard there was a TV series in the works and you want to remember all the details for when it comes out. You’re a little surprised at how nervous that revelation makes you, like the feeling when you’re a kid going to a theme park and you can see the roller coasters as you pull into the parking lot. Weird. Anyway, it’s not the first time you’ve seen a customer who looks like a character from something. One time you saw someone who you swore looked just like Pidge from the Voltron reboot that came out a few years ago, and a coworker saw a girl who looked like an anime character she loves… Raka something? Her name sounded like gravity, but that wasn’t it. You shrug, making a mental note to ask her about it later.

You stand up once again to take one final look before you move onto the next end cap, and see that the guy is standing next to you. You look up at him, and all those weird feelings of excitement and something close to anticipation amplify, as you get a closer look at him. He really, really looks like Percy Jackson. Like if the Viria art was a real person.

“Uh… hi, can I help you find anything today?” You ask, snapping out of your daze and into your customer service voice. He takes a second before answering, and you’re a little unnerved by the way he’s looking at you; warm and intimately, like he’s known you for years.

“No,” he replies, a dreamy tone to his voice, “I’ve got everything I need.” You’re pleasantly surprised and a little freaked out that he even has the accent. Seriously, if he’s not already, this guy should really get into cosplay. Also, is he flirting with you? He seems to realize what he just said, and backtracks slightly.

“Actually, um, I was wondering if you could help me out with something over here,” he says, and you agree, in your signature chipper tone. He guides you to a table covered in various sweatpants behind a mirror.

He glances around again, and you have to ask.

“You know, if you’re having trouble finding someone we can-”

“Walkie customer service to have my group meet me at the front desk.” He finishes seamlessly.

“It’s not my first time at the rodeo,” he chuckles, and you get the feeling there’s more meaning behind what he’s saying, like an inside joke you’re not a part of.

“Oh… yeah.” you say, and he can sense your surprise, “How did you…” you trail off, and he can sense the silent question in your voice. He lets out a breathy chuckle, cheeks flushed pink.

“Like this.”

He catches your face in his hands, and presses his lips to yours. Your eyes widen in shock, mostly at the fact that you don’t feel threatened by his presence at all. You’re shocked at how comfortable you feel around him, how you feel in your bones that you’ve known him for years when the logical side of your brain is telling you that you first saw him ten minutes ago. He pulls away, searching your eyes for… something.

“Uh…” you glance away, brow slightly furrowed, then back up at him, “what the fuck?”

His expression softens, and he says gently, “Give it a minute.”

You’re about to ask him to give what a minute, when a barrage of memories, feelings, people you don’t think you’ve ever met but seemed to be best friends with knocks you off your feet. You try to take in a breath, but the air in the room seems to have taken a temporary vacation from your lungs.

You look up at him, eyes flared in understanding and shock. He mutters something in confirmation. Someone yells nearby, and you both look over to an adolescent boy asking his mom why he can’t wear neon basketball shorts to school. Percy looks back over at you.

“Is there somewhere a little more-” the mom starts arguing back and forth with her son at a louder volume, and he continues, “private… where we could talk?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll… I’ll get somewhere.”

A few minutes later, you’re sitting across from each other on two step stools in one of the stock rooms. You’re still surprised at how easily you had lied to your boss that your long distance boyfriend showed up a few weeks early after over a year of not being able to see each other, and you needed a moment to catch up. She had agreed readily, asking that you tell her when you’re ready to get back to your tasks.

“I’m sorry about that,” he starts, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you look up at him, “I never would have kissed you without asking, but you made me promise last time that the next time you lose your memories I would get them back to you as fast as I can.”

“Uh, it’s okay, I feel like I remember talking about that.” Your memories are still fuzzy, but coming back sporadically.

“It can take a few days for them to come back fully.” He adds.

The most surreal part of this is you remember vividly what happened in the books - because you lived through it. You hold back a giddy laugh bubbling up.

“So…” you begin, and he looks at you, his gaze warm, “it’s all real?” you breathe the words, almost afraid of an answer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking away briefly, overwhelmed that you’re with him once again.

“The short version is, since your godly parent is Calliope, you sometimes get sent to other worlds. You kind of have to hop scotch from one place to another, like getting a goldfish used to a new bowl of water. The mist - or sometimes,” he glances up, pointedly and irritable, “other factors - usually take away a lot of your memories. They say it’s to make the transition easier, but who knows. Anyway, there are these waypoints, kind of like a time loop that you hang out in until you’re either ready to leave or one of us finds you first.”

“So this…” you motion around to the rows of cardboard boxes filled with plastic cups and paper towels. He nods and you let out a laugh of relief that you really won’t have to work here long term.

“As soon as you’re ready we should probably head out to camp. It’s gonna be a bit of a drive.”

“Wait, it’s all like… here? Like in this world?”

“Yeah,” he smiles again, once more sending butterflies through your chest.

You let out a disbelieving, excited laugh.

“Alright. Yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”

Before you can get up, he takes your hand in his. He watches his fingers skim back and forth for a minute before looking up at you.

“You know that I’ll always find you, right?” there’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions he’s somehow managing to convey through his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter where you go, or how long you’re gone, or if we even remember each other. I will always find you.” His hand comes up to your cheek for the second time today, and your head tilts into his embrace automatically. You somehow trust him more than anyone or anything else right now. You nod gently.

“I do.”

He glances away again, cheeks flushing red, and he sighs, kissing your forehead.

You get up and head towards the exit together, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“How about we get some bubble tea once we’re in the city?”

“Oh hell yeah!”

You don’t remember the last time you had bubble tea, but it sounds really, really good right now.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x gn reader #heroes of olympus x reader #percy jackson #heroes of olympus

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ahsokasleftbicep · 3 years

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Name and Soul: Chapter 6

It's finally here! I am SO SO sorry for the delay. This weekend has been insane. But anyway, let's go.

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000 @lightning-wolffe @killtherandomness @shadowwing1324 @sydnubabu @lafy-taffy @photowizard17

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2042

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 6, Rampart being a *ahem* douchebag, super conflicted Crosshair, internal conflict, Tech being amazing, Wrecker kicking ass, there are a few curse words but nothing too bad, I think

“Y/N… Y/N!” Omega tugs on your hand.

You shake your head and look down at her. “Huh?... What?” The girl points at the makeshift target painted on the far wall.

“Good job, Omega! You’re getting there!” You ruffle her hair and she smiles. “How about you try again?”

Omega nods and readies herself with the Zygerrian bow. You look out the door and tune everything out. After you saw, well thought you saw him, you stood in the middle of the streets until someone bumped your shoulder. It couldn’t have been him. That’s impossible, he would be on Kamino. And he didn’t have any weapons besides his knife, he never brings only one weapon. And his eyes… It had to be him.

You refocus when Omega lets out a frustrated groan.

“But I’ve already hit the target three times.”

Echo rests his hand on her shoulder. “Out of 12. That’s luck, Omega, not skill.”

“He’s right.” You hop off the gambling table and nod at the target. “Soldiers need to be consistent and that comes with time.”

Omega tries again but misses, glaring at the Weequay and Ithorian. “I was doing better until those two showed up.”

Echo glances at you before looking back to Omega. “You have to learn to tune out distractions, which comes with practice.”

“Try again, Omega. You can do it.” You smiled at the girl and winced when she missed again.

“Not exactly a natural, is she.” Cid walks up and nudges Wrecker off of his seat. “Playtime’s over, I got a job for you.”

You all gather around the table, making yourselves comfortable. Omega reaches up to you and you pick her up so she can see.

“I assume you guys know what a tactical droid is?... They were the opera…”

“The operational brains of the Separatist military-” Tech butts in.

“Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba.” This is my briefing, Goggles.”

Tech steps back offended while you and Echo try to muffle your laughter. Tech elbows you with a small smile before refocusing on Cid’s briefing. This is going to be a fun mission.

He was tired. God, he was so tired. Crosshair lied on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Despite his exhaustion, he had been trying to go to sleep for hours.

Why did I run? Why did I leave her there? Why did you go in the first place, you should’ve killed her. I love her. She betrayed the Empire, tried to kill you. I tried to kill her first.

Crosshair sat up from his bed and removed his necklace. He turned the ring over in his hand, looking at the engraving. O'r gai bal runi…

Y/N… I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.

“CT-9904, report to my office immediately.”

….“Yes, sir.”

“We’re approaching the decommissioning site. We can land at the dockyard and go in on foot.” Tech turns his head to look back before landing the ship.

You put on your helmet and look down at Omega. “You ready kid?”

“Definitely!” The girl runs ahead before Hunter holds her shoulder. You all crouch behind a wall. You raise your brow at Tech and poke his shoulder.

“What’s with the police droids? Cid never mentioned those.”

The man rolls his eyes and looks at his vambrace. “They operate on a rotating quadrant scan. If we time it correctly, they have a blind spot.”

“That’s our way in then.”

“Precisely.”

When the time is right, you make your way to the site, going up a ladder.

“It’s okay, Wrecker. Don’t look down, just like Skako Minor.” You glance down at the man and he nods.

“You say that like it’s easy, Y/N.”

You all enter the facility and huddle together.

“Wrecker, cover us up top.”

“But being the lookout was Crosshair’s job.”

“That’s why Y/N is going with you.” Hunter nods at you.

“Sounds good to me… C’mon big guy, let's get up there.”

This really could be going better. You dodge a few shots from the police droids, firing something back.

“Wrecker, Y/N. Get to the main control panel.” Echo’s voice comes through the comms

You and the man run up but stop when you reach the panel… on the other side of a river of molten droid parts. Lovely. Crosshair would’ve loved this.

“Echo, we can’t reach the platform. Unless you want us to fall into a molten river.”

“It’s the only way to reboot the whole facility. Figure it out!”

Wrecker looks at you, “That’s easy for you to say.” The man paces erratically and grips his head.

“Wrecker, we need to hurry. You can do this.” You stop the man and hold his shoulders. “I’ll cover you.”

The man groans and mumbles to himself.

“Wrecker, what are you waiting for?”

“Wrecker, you need to hurry!” A blaster shot flies over your head, and more police droids surround you both.

Wrecker jumps to a claw and swings to the platform, hitting his head in the process.

“Wrecker! Get the system online, we’re running out of time!” Police droids gather together, converging on your position. The man flips the switch before collapsing.

“Wrecker!” You fire off a few rounds and use the claw to get to the platform. “C’mon Wrecker! We gotta get out of here!”

You grab Wreckers blaster and fire at the closer droids. “Dammit, Wrecker!”

“H-Hunter, Y/N… I’m stuck on the conveyor. I need help.”

“I’m surrounded by police droids and Wrecker is incapacitated at the moment. Hunter?”

“I’ll get Omega. Just get down here as soon as you can.”

You fire off more rounds, then kneel down. “Wrecker… Wrecker! You couldn’t have hit your head that hard. C’mon.” You push his shoulder.

More droids converge and you move around the platform. Wrecker mumbles but you can’t make out anything. Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers...good soldiers.

“CT-9904? A moment?” Rampart approached the grey-haired man, who placed a toothpick between his lips.

“Sir.”

“I believe we have gotten off on the wrong… foot.” Rampart stands, looking out the window. “You see, Private L/N and her skills will be very useful for my current project. I understand that your relationship with the soldier-”

Crosshair shoves the man against the window, holding the sharpened point of his toothpick at Rampart’s neck. “I am holding this right over your carotid artery. If I slip just enough, you will bleed out in minutes, possibly less. Now I don’t know who you think I was to that woman, but if you keep pushing it...” Crosshair presses his toothpick harder. “...then I suggest you watch your back.” Crosshair lets go of his collar and Rampart falls to the floor, gripping his neck. “Oh and Admiral. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll still have enough time to find you.” The sniper narrows his eyes and disappears down the hallway.

“Y/N, Wrecker, get down here now!”

“I’m working on it, Echo! Wrecker’s still-”

“We’re on our way.” The man grabs his weapon from you and nudges your shoulder.

“Oh, so glad you could join us! How was your beauty sleep?” You punch his shoulder. “We need to get to the others.”

The man walks up to a chain and crouches down. “You remember that mission on Tatooine?”

“How could I ever forget?” You smile and get up on Wrecker’s shoulders. “Let’s do some damage.”

Wrecker jumps down the chain, the two of you firing off. “Sorry, we took so long!”

“We got tired of you guys having all the fun!” Wrecker lands with you still on his shoulders. You hop off and start covering the rest of the group.

“Y/N!” Omega runs up next to you, a few smudges on her face.

“Omega! You got a little something on your cheek, nothing a rag and water can’t take care of.” You pat her on the head for a moment before returning more fire.

A moment later, old battle droids begin to stand up and fire on the police droids.

“Well, that’s new… I take it, that’s our cue to get the hell out of here.”

Tech runs next to you, “Yes, it is indeed.”

“Good shot, Omega!”

“Thank you! You and Echo were right about those distractions.”

“We’ve dealt with this our whole lives, you learn to forget about them over time.” You kneel behind her and provide cover. “Let’s get going… I’m starving.”

“You and me both!” Wrecker runs past you, knocking the remaining droids to the ground.

“Trace, right?”

“Yes! And you’re Y/N.” The girl smiles at you.

You place your hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for going back to Omega.”

“She’s a good kid… And a good shot.” Trace chuckles.

“Well, she’s getting there…”

“Y/N! Let’s go! I thought you were starving!” Omega sticks her head out of the ship, waving her arms.

“Okay, jeez. I’m coming!” You wave to the sisters and run to the ship, sitting in the cockpit. Omega comes up and tugs on your arm. “Y/N… Uhm, can you help me train for a bit?”

“Yeah sure, but no target practice. Let’s do strength instead! Then you need to rest, you’ve had a big day.”

“Okay! Now c’mon let’s go!” The girl grabs your hand and drags you to the back.

Crosshair stood in the shower, staring at his necklace. He hadn’t moved in minutes, just letting the water run down his body. He was thinking… about everything. Sleep is unknown to him, his brain won’t shut up. He won’t shut up.

You should’ve gone back for her. You should’ve killed her. I love her. No, you don’t. What do you know...You’re not me. I love Y/N, and I always will, I promised her. Ha, with what? That stupid necklace, that ring? You tried to kill her and you think she still loves you? You betrayed everything you promised. You don’t know Y/N like I do. She knows, they all do. She saw me that day, she knows that I’m still here. And she knows you’re here too. She’s not stupid. Oh, I’m sure. Just shut up and let me sleep, please. Hm, I’ll think about it. No, I don’t think I will.

“Y/N? Why are you up?” Tech walks into the cockpit, devoid of his eyewear.

“I- couldn’t sleep. Haven’t been since…”

“Since the day we left Kamino… Am I correct?”

“Yes… It’s so odd. It’s like I can feel him.”

“Crosshair?”

“Yes, it’s like I can feel his presence. Like when someone stands behind you, but you can feel them there before they speak. And I keep thinking I hear him, and I see things. Like nightmares...horrible nightmares.” Tears gather in your eyes and they fall down your cheeks. “I- I must be losing my mind, right?”

Tech places his hand on your shoulder and kneels in front of you. “Y/N, you are most definitely not going crazy. But what you’re experiencing does sound very strange. I know how much this… has affected you and I don’t- I don’t have all the answers. I do wish I did, but circumstances have prevented me from fully dedicating-”

“Tech, you’re rambling again.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “I know you are doing everything you can, and you have a great assistant.”

The man chuckles, “Apologies. Yes, Omega is a very nice assistant. She is quite intelligent.” Tech stands up and yawns, “I believe some sleep is necessary, for both of us.”

“I’ll go in a moment, I promise.”

“Very well, I would hate to drag you back.” Tech nods before heading back to his room.

You turn your head, looking out into hyperspace. Crosshair… I don’t know if you can hear me. I was looking at the stars… I miss you. Maybe you’re looking at the stars too if you can even see them, but I hope you are. They look so pretty tonight.

Crosshair turned his head to the window, looking through the clouds of Kamino. He finds a small opening in the clouds, revealing a dark, clear sky above. I found the stars… You’re right. They do look pretty….

I love you, Y/N.

… I love you, Crosshair.

#name and soul #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #omega tbb #tbb spoiliers #star wars #cid tbb #i am SO sorry that this is late #no joke #my weekend was so crazy #but i digress #if you want to be tagged in this story dm me

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achaoticeternal · 4 years

Text

THIS IS ME TRYING

AVENGERS X READER (tony stark x daughter!reader, platonic peter parker x reader) masterlist // taglist

Request: @big-galaxy-chaos “Hey so I see that you also need requests as much as I do 😚 so here is mine! So it's Peter x stark!reader angst. Where Tony is afraid of becoming like his father but in reality, he is worst than him. He favors Peter more than her. Even though she is smarter than her own father, and won tons of awards and shit. Tony doesn't realize what he lost until the reader is gone. Btw the relationship between the reader and Peter is platonic! Also, everyone is oblivious to how she is feeling. Just pure angst”

Summary: Dads and daughters are supposed to have a beautiful relationship. But you could never be the song he always wanted. Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Based on the song this is me trying by Taylor Swift. Reader and Peter are both 18+; takes place after Thanos and Tony lives. Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, self destructive behaviors, mentions death

“Mr. Stark, I’ve been working on the chemical formula of my webbing and I’m pretty sure that I’ve completely perfected it,” Peter talked while walking with your father to the lab.

“That’s great because I’ve been working on your web-shooters. Now, they can shoot up to 200 yards in length and the error rate of them getting jammed is less than one percent.”

Tony rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder as they left the room together. Neither of them acknowledges you on the couch, reading another novel involving quantum physics. But you’re used to the cold shoulder your father has given you since he first met Peter Parker. You’re used to the way he’s turned you away all your life, justifying his choice by saying he’s protecting you.

You knew that he feared to become his father. Pepper explained that to you when you were a child and you couldn’t leave your room until Tony’s lady of the night let. Or as you and Pepper called it at the time “taking out the trash”.

Maybe that was when you became more interested in the mathematics and science you found in the book and the workshop over good ole bonding time with dear old dad. If he wanted to neglect the time and opportunity to raise you, you would at least make sure to put his money and name to good use for your own personal benefit. And in the back of your mind, you knew that part of you was doing this to earn the attention and love you desired from your father.

Tony just saw it as taking an early interest in your future. So he didn’t stop you when you preferred to sit with tutors over playdates, draw out designs for engines and inventions instead of scribbling in coloring books, or even reading through scientific theories over watching Disney movies. He didn’t think it was strange, because that’s what he did at your age. Hell, by the time you were 10 you had won three first-place national science fair ribbons, third place in the national spelling bee, and began developing a prototype to turn the emissions from cars back into breathable oxygen.

Everyone noticed your brain, and how much you had achieved now at 18 years old. You held 2 Bachelor’s in Mechanical Engineering and Organic Chemistry from MIT and a Master’s in Astrophysics from Georgia Tech. And you were now planning out when you wanted to go to Law school and earn your doctorate. But you were living at the compound now, taking a gap year.

When you went away for school, you learned from others how normal life was for everyone else. You met kids who were the first in their family to go to college or were looking for opportunities outside of the small towns they came from. When you came home from your second semester at MIT, you told Tony about all this and he created the September Foundation in order to fund the projects and inventions those kids were creating. It was another punch in the gut to you, because you realized that you would never be enough for Tony.

If you were enough, he would have passed the mantle of Iron Man onto someone else after he almost lost you and Pepper to the Mandarin. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have enlisted Peter to help him in his fight against Captain America. If you were enough, he wouldn’t have gone into space for a final fight. If you were enough, Morgan wouldn’t be in the other room watching cartoons. And if Tony acknowledged you, just even a little but, maybe you wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress him and the world.

“Ms. Stark, your package has arrived. Shall I send it over to the labs?” F.R.I.D.A.Y echoed into the room.

“No, send it over to my personal workshop. In fact, send all of TS-2008 to my personal workshop.”

“Of course, miss.”

“Oh, and F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

“Yes, miss?”

“Please stop referring to me as ‘Ms. Stark’, (Y/N) is fine.”

“Alright, CASS, reboot the system diagnostics and run test C-24,” you yawned as you asked your personal AI system. The personal AI system you built for yourself, bu yourself - no help from Tony at all.

“Systems are checked out, shall I launch the test?”

“Go for it,” you groaned and took to Advil for your poundingheadachee. It was now two in the morning after another long night of coding, calibrating, testing, and perfecting the project you’ve been working on the past two years.

When you were younger, you tried to replicate the Iron Man suit, but your father quickly discovered the helmet and nearly perfected arc reactor you’d created in his lab. He trashed all of it and told you never to attempt to create the suit again. He said you were better than that, that you had more potential than pretending to be a superhero. You realized as you grew older that he didn’t care if you were trying to become a hero or not; but that you were copying his work. His precious Iron Man that he took months to perfect only took a week for his child to solve.

Dear old dad couldn’t let you have things the easy way. So instead after SHIELD fell and Tony began working to finish wiping out HYDRA, you began working on your own original model suit. Now it was almost ready to showcase to the world.

“Test C-24:successful. Shall I continue to run diagnostics to watch the processing and reaction time of TS-2008?”

“Yes, CASS. Run virtual simulations L-29, O-400, and T-38. Let me know when the trials have finished running and whether or not they were successful or not.”

“Yes, Ms. (Y/N),”

You pushed away from your desk and left your workshop. Before you knew it, you were in the kitchen pouring yourself another cup of coffee. You had been through 3 pots already tonight and no one noticed. Guess that was the nice thing about being Tony’s kid. Everyone else acknowledge your accomplishments and paid no mind to your destructive tendencies. In fact, maybe you’d celebrate tonight and snag a bottle of champagne from the extravagant wine fridge next to the dishwasher. You’d done it plenty of nights before when you wanted to drown out and numb the pain in your heart.

“(Y/N)? Why are you awake? And why are you holding a bottle of champagne?”

Ah, Peter... of course he would be spending the weekend at the compound. It’s not likely he has a perfectly good and happy home back in Queens with a guardian who loves him very much and would give the world to him. Guess that’s something May and your Father.

“Hello, Perfect Parker”

“You know I’ve never understood why you call me that, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Of course it doesn’t make sense from your end of the looking glass.Why are you up?” You tried so hard not scowl or be too rude. Peter had tattled to TOny before about you having a ‘bad attitude’ towards him.

“I believe I asked you that first.”

“That you did, but if you want an answer out of me, you’ll have to answer first.”

“I couldn’t sleep. thought I would get myself a glass of water. You?”

“I’m getting wasted, just like all my potential,” You faked a smile and started peeling the gold wrapping off of the cork of the bottle.

“Don’t say that, everyone knows how talented and brilliant you are,” He sighed while grabbing himself a glass and walking over to the fridge, “You’re a Stark”

“Tell that to Dad, because you’ll always be more of a Stark than I’ll ever be,” You huffed as you pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer near you.

“That doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N), are you sure you haven’t been drinking already? Because you sound delirious. Maybe you should spend some time outside of your bedroom, maybe even get out of the compound. When was the last time you left to go somewhere?”

“Thanks for the concern Parker, but I’ve been able to hold my own for at least fifteen years now. And I know I don’t leave here a lot because I don’t have the opportunity too. If there’s a private event, either Pepper attends with Tony or Spider-man makes an appearance with Iron Man. I’m just surprised that there aren’t rumors across the media wondering ‘Is Spider-Man the lost of the Iron Man, Tony Stark?” You waved your hand in the air to match the dramatic tone.

“Haha, you’re so funny,” He took a sip out of your water, “People know you exist”

“Yeah, maybe if they do a quick Google shirt. But I’m not offended, I know that I just live in your shadow. But I’m used to it,” Your poured the alcohol into a glass and began to sip from it, relief flooding through you.

“Okay , I get it. You’re just in another one of your dramatic moods, maybe you should just go to bed before you say or do something stupid,” he took a step towards you.

“Don’t I always?”

“Always what?”

“Say or do something stupid?”

He halted and shook his head, “That’s not what I meant, (Y/N), I-”

“No, that’s exactly what you meant, Parker,” You brushed past him and stormed into the living room, “You don’t understand how lucky you are.”

He came stomping after you, “Oh, so you’re feeling brave, huh? Well you just sound like an idiot. I’m not just some lucky kid! I’ve lost my parents, my Uncle was killed in front of my face, and I disappeared from existence! The only people who care for me are Aunt May and Tony.”

You turned to face him, face completely red, tears threatening to spill, “Well at least you have Tony, because I don’t! I’ve just run around all my life trying to be perfect, be easy for him to deal with, live up to his and everybody's expectations! But I’m not good enough, I’ve never been good enough, and I’ll never be good enough. I’m just Tony Stark’s bastard child who built herself from the ground up without the slightest bit of help from her father!”

“(Y/N)...”

“No, don’t you ‘(Y/N)’ me. You’ve gotten everything you wanted from my father since day one. I never had that. You didn’t have to work to really make your own suite, you didn’t have to endure a lifetime of pain because of his arrogant ass, YOU didn’t have to wonder where Tony was on your graduation day for MIT - his alma mater - because he attended your fucking high school graduation instead!”

“What the hell is going on?” Tony yelled from the opposite end of the room. Pepper stood behind him and you could hear other door creaking open to here the events down the hall, “Not only are you two fighting in the living room and woke up half the compound, but you woke up Morgan and now she’s crying in her room because you two are screaming at each other.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo, poor Morgan woke up in the middle of the night,” you mumbled to yourself.

“I just came to get a glass of water,” Peter attempted to defend himself.

And from Tony and Pepper’s angle, he did look to be more innocent. He had a glass of water in his hand and was completely cool. While you stood opposite of him; a bottle of booze in one had, dark circles under your eyes, a tear stained face, and looking to be in a mad frenzy.

“(Y/N), explain yourself,” Tony spoke sternly.

You took a deep breath in and wiped away fresh tears with your sleeve, “No, I don’t have to.”

“Excuse me,” your father marched across the room, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight but-”

“What’s gotten into me? Do you even listen to the bullshit that comes out of your mouth? No, of course you do, because you like listening to yourself talk more than you’ll listen to me. So talking to you is as fucking useless as talking to a deaf man!”

Peter and Tony now stood stunned at you and your sudden tantrum, but you knew it had been coming, you had always known. You knew one day you were going to explode, and it just happened to be tonight.

“I get it, I’m not precious Peter, or your beautiful Morgan. I’m just your bastard child from some broad you met on Malibu Beach. Even though I’m just a kid, I’ve always been your competition, a threat to you and your name. And even after every nearly life-ending event, I thought things would change - that you’d finally love me. But that never happened not even after Extremis infected not just Pepper’s body, but my own! And now I’m dying, I’m fucking dying, dad. I’m running out of time and trying to do everything I can. I go to school and get these diplomas and certificates to impress you. I invent and build thing to get your attention. I do it all because I still desire your validation and I’m running out of time,” you fall to your knees, everything becoming to much, “this is me trying, just like I have been all my life- but it’s still not enough.”

The room went silent. Only sobs echoed around the room as champagne poured out the bottle, staining the carpet. Neither Tony or Peter knew what to say or what to do. How could they begin to comfort the crying girl on the floor, or fix everything that ha occured over a lifetime.

Tony finally knelt down, “(Y/N), you know I never meant for any of this to happen, for you to ever feel like this. I’ve always been so scared of becoming your grandfather... I thought I was doing right by never pushing you, I guess it just never clicked.”

“Oh yeah, is that why you pushed me away and found Peter? And then when you realized you had messed up and forgot about your first daughter, you had another one in order to make things up?” You raised to head and shoulder up first, then finally rose back onto your two feet, “well congratulations, you’re worse than Howard Stark. And I hope you’re proud, Dad.”

With that, you left the living room. You couldn’t deal with in anymore that night, maybe ever again. Because when Tony came to check on you the next morning, you were missing. Only a note by your bedside remained as the only proof you had even lived in the room.

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

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theyarebothgunshot · 3 years

Note

ROSE I AM FREAKING OUT HAVE YOU SEEN THE PREQUEL STUFF???? WHAT IS GOING ON, my god... I was literally about to go to sleep, decided to check Tumblr one last time and see this.... what WHAT!! WHATTTT!!!!!! I don't even know if this is good bad or what but just JENSEN IS PRODUCING A SUPERNATURAL PREQUEL AND DEAN'S GONNA BE THE NARRATOR OR Sth LIKE???? -🐸

YEAH i am normal about this <3 (jk i am also freaking out) welcome to: people screaming to me in my inbox about prequelgate ft. j/2 fallout theory. let's goooo!

Another copypasta and suddenly chaos machine is full on gay I love this prophecy

you know whats funny i just checked the j/2 tag and i feel like for the first time in a long time they are starting to realise that maybe THEY should be the ones who are "gutted" *sips tea*

ROSE HOLY SHIT ROOOOOOOOSE ITS HAPPENING HOLY SHIIIIIT

YEAH

Nevermind just read prequel and well good luck I guess but just you know kind of bleh who wants to watch John Winchester well let’s have hope anyways

i know a lot of people are bummed out but i am kind of very excited actually?? i trust robbie and even though yeah j*hn winchester turned into a nasty abusive bastard, it can be interesting to explore how it all started (imo). it's just the first of many stories they can tell.

I can only accept this circus if it’s Dean telling the stories to his and Cas’ kids and then we have a revival to show that the whole finale was in fact the end Chuck wanted there Jensen I fixed it

i would not say no to this

heyloo bee anon here

um- wtf is happening?

jackles prequel series?? why? i want to be excited about this but sheesh im scared

because supernatural is never dead <3

okay, but, jensen... john winchester ≠ jdm, you don’t have to go /that/ hard for him 🙃

true true... though i am waiting for jdm to comment on this, please i need it

WAIT A SECOND J2 FALLOUT THEORY TRUE??

LMAO HELL YEAH BESTIE

Rose you really picked the worst time to sleep for real

bestie it was literally 4 in the morning, what do you expect from me sdfjsfhsf

I can’t literally can’t we were all right LMAO j2 fallout theory is real and cockles (Misha supporting Jensen) is [gunshots] I’m just laughing cause what the hell is this timeline we’re living LMAOOOOOOOOOO

we would always end up here <3

Do we have the copypaste anons to thank for JP basically confirming the J2 fallout? lol 🦚

yes, everybody say 'thanks annoying idiots!'

ROSE, WAKE UP, COME HERE,

THERE'S A LOT GOING ON FFS

YEAH I KNOW BUT I NEEDED SLEEP

Anticipating that there's going to be a lot of yelling about the prequel on here: I am cackling, but also, I mean, the first time Dean got a look into his parent's past, Cas was the catalyst: literally entered Dean's mind and catapulted him to the 70s. So idk, it's not completely unreasonable to expect some Cas cameos, maybe setting up a parallel timeline since Dean is narrating. What I'm saying is, this is Jackles, he's getting JDM and Misha in on this lmao -Honeymoon Anon

you were right lmfaooo also i fully agree. misha's tweet further cemented that thought for me. he knew about this prequel and i dont think he is cas-baiting us, i think he'll be involved. i'd also be obsessed to see jensen and jdm act together again (though idk who jdm could play seeing as it's a prequel and he is way too old to play young j*hn)

longlivethetribbles heeft gevraagd:

Heyyyyyy bestie, are you SEEING the absolute madness going on right now holy shit

well a little late but I SURE AM BESTIE

bestie wake up pls s16 finale just dropped.

- 🍯

and WHAT a great one it was

I love coming home from work to see all of the chaos unfolding on Tumblr and Twitter. I'm absolutely buzzing right now. I'll probably still be here by the time you wake up and check tumblr 😂 - 🐢

lmaooo and were you still awake?? did you see my freak out??

Oooh bestie wake the fuck up, I know you’re gonna be excited for this one jsnsjsj

god i had SUCH a morning like. it's 12:00 now and all i did since i woke up is check tumblr rip

short summary: jen and dee gain the rights, they post on ig/twitter about a prequel ft john and mary that no one asked for, the fandom loses its everloving shit as usual, they trend on twitter thanks to the beloved twt intern who missed us, misha qt’s jen about cas possibly benefiting from being in the prequel, then j*red qt’s jensen abt how his feelings got hurt by him not being told about a prequel his character as no involvement in & he initially throws a tantrum, and the rest is history - 🦋 anon (ps: i hope this helps a little, i’ve been scattered brained trying to keep up with it all night lmao so pls let me know if i missed anything, bug crew !!)

thank you so much darling i figured it out eventually but this is a helpful summary!!!

I hope you enjoyed waking up to all of this XD -🐢

i sure did!!! also that answers my question about you being awake lmao

I WILL NEVER EVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR SLEEPING THROUGH ALL OF THIS DRAMA AND NOT EXPERIENCING IT IN PERSON I DIDN'T NEED THIS SLEEP - tea anon

well the party was still going strong this morning so im not TOO "gutted" see what i did there lmaooo

Now that you are caught up with the news... So idk if you remember this but...didn't jarpad tell jackles he was up for a reboot in an online panel? And jackles answered that this was news to him??

-🍯

yeah i think you are right but he was clearly joking and didnt expect jackles to actually be working on something already

J2 anon spare more of those anons let's finish this - tea anon

please, we're having a ball in this bitch

I saw a post on tumblr where someone said now that Kripke gave J&D the rights, maybe they’re starting with a prequel just to end on a reboot in years time and honestly ? I wanna believe that so badly. This is tinhatty but what if this is all calculated in a way that makes it so that Jensen is slowly starting to fix everything that was wrong with spn - now that he has the rights and he’s slowly making spn his own story ?! I mean he did say in his ig post he wants to ‘fill in the rest’ - and maybe Mary and John’s story is only the beginning of spn related content from J&D to come ??? Maybe he wants to give spn the justice it deserves ?? Thoughts ??

i dont think this is tinhatty at all i think this is very possible and not that much of a reach. i could see this happening yeah for sure

want to hear something funny. I found out I had a ruptured blood vessel in my eye because I was sending my friend a video freaking out when the prequel news dropped and I noticed the corner of my eye was red af. and when I got back online jared had tweeted.

DJFHSJD ANON THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, HELP, are you okay? <3

rose.. bestie... how are you feeling about The News? nsfshsf being european is a curse </3 🐞

i feel GREAT im living for it i feel on top of the world tbh (and yeah it really is dsjfhs)

What am I waking up to I can't WHAT I rested my eyes for like 5 minutes help *hits reblog button* - anon anon

yep yep essentially djfhs

“Jensen and Misha are Co workers who barley talk”

I can’t be sure of course but I’m fairly certain that this is the copypasta that brought the j/2 fallout theory back to life. Who’s apparently ‘barely talking’ now? skansjsjsj. It’s almost prophetic, these j/2 anons have superpowers I’m telling ya.

-poker face anon

next time we get one of them we should be thanking them lmaooo

ok, but are we gonna talk about the "When Daneel and I formed Chaos Machine Productions, we knew that the first story we wanted to tell was the story of John and Mary Winchester [...]"-quote because the way this is phrased implies they formed CHAOS MACHINE Productions with the intent of telling this story (first), i haven't been in this dumpster long enough but the name just tickles me in that Misha way, isn't it so sus??? am i missing something???? i mean with this announcement they SURE lived up to that name... 🧩-anon

you are absolutely right, chaos machine SCREAMS misha and we are all here for it!!

hey hey hey. joining the clownverse, there's no way THEE cas girl danneel doesn't know just how much the fandom loves misha and cas. so 2 + 2 = misha in the spn prequel!

AGREED

So I think I finally managed to catch up on wtf happened while I was asleep and my brain melted. What a shit show to wake up to.

Anyway thoughts.

I don't hate the idea of a Mary&John sequel. I think it has the potential to be good (It has the potential to be really bad too, so I'm kind scared).

🕯️🕯️🕯️ manifesting Mary being badass and John being kinda useless🕯️🕯️🕯️

As for the Jensen and J*red thing.

I can see Jensen not telling J*red even if they are still friends, because J*red is kinda good at accidentally telling Secrets. He could have told him right before he announced it so, so that J*red didn't have to find out from twitter. He was on the show for 15 years, he is bound to get asked about it. The public twitter meltdown was really unprofessional so. Like you have Jensen's number J*red. You could have sorted that out in private like a normal person, but instead you choose to act like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Is it weird that I'm actually going to be kinda that for them if the actually had a falling out, even tho I don't like J*red all that much. They seemed to be really important to each other and while I thought before that the might have triefted apart a bit, I didn't think that the where actively fighting.

- 🐌 anon

the thing is, the polite/normal thing for jensen to do was text him before announcing it on twitter. it's weird he didn't, and that makes me believe that maybe yeah they did have a falling out. especially with the way j*red responded to it on twitter. if he had no other reason to be this upset (no prior beef or falling out) you'd think that he wouldn't be responding like this. on the other hand, the man is a mysterie to me so who the hell knows. i'm not gonna mourn about it if they did/do grow apart because j*red is just.... awful imo.

#frog anon #bee anon #peacock anon #subtlerainy #honeymoon anon #bestie mutual #honeypot anon #turtle anon #butterfly anon #tea anon #ladybug anon #anon anon #poker face anon #puzzle pieces anon #snail anon #good lord i think i got more anons about this than about anything else before lmao #good luck to anybody who actually reads this <3

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joshjacksons · 3 years

Text

Joshua Jackson interview with “Irish Independent”

It was during a childhood visit to his granny’s house in Dublin’s Ballyfermot that Joshua Jackson smoked his first cigarette.

“My memories of those visits to Ballyfermot are quite sweet really,” the Dawson’s Creek actor recalls. “I was always running around with the neighbourhood kids, getting into trouble. Not bad trouble, just little-kid trouble. Although, technically it’s where I smoked my first cigarette, so that in itself isn’t the sweetest memory.”

Jackson’s handsome face surges with deep laughter lines and quiet dimples at the mention of mum Fiona’s home turf. “She might prefer I’d say she was from Chapelizod”, he jokes, before proudly pinning his mum’s allegiance to “Ballyer”.

Was the young Canadian treated like a shiny, exotic object by the local kids? “I was a bit, but I became less exotic the older I got. Culturally, I was so far away from an Irish kid but in a little pack of children, everyone finds their level. It also helped that I had my own cousins, my own blood, around with us. I had that family connection so I never felt too exoticised.”

An entry on his IMDb profile suggests his late grandparents Rosemary and Patrick were opera singers in Dublin, indicating that performance runs in the genes. The actor seems unaware. “Mum tells me they used to sing to each other a lot. My grandparents lived in council housing with a little kitchen out the back, garden right outside, and they would sing to each other through the window as he was out pottering about while she was cooking.

“But he was known more as a snooker shark around Ballyfermot. And my grandmother, she was known as a sainted mother of seven.”

Having welcomed his first child, Janie, with his wife, the actor Jodie Turner-Smith, last year, it’s obvious family is paramount for 43-year-old Jackson, as he Zoom-calls from a rich hotel suite with dark wallpaper and plump cushions in the background. It stems from an evident bond with his mum, whose presence lovingly peppers our conversation. Just 16 when she left Dublin, Fiona Jackson travelled through Paris, Amsterdam and Geneva before embracing the vibrancy of London’s Swinging Sixties and ultimately making for Vancouver in her early twenties.

In an entry on her blog, she speaks of falling for “the spectacular beauty of snow-capped mountains and the Pacific Ocean” and ultimately scoring an entry-level position at a Canadian talent agency. It led to a career as a successful casting agent, working on film classics including Carnal Knowledge with Jack Nicholson and McCabe & Mrs Miller with Warren Beatty and Julie Christie.

She met and married Joshua’s father, John Carter, and the young family moved to Los Angeles. Sister Aisleagh was born shortly before John walked out on the family, leaving a profound effect.

“My father, unfortunately, was not a good father or husband and exited the scene,” the actor disclosed last year, before adding it’s something he “will never get over”.

Young infants in tow, Fiona returned to Vancouver and, having found early success in casting, helped contribute to the foundation of the burgeoning “Hollywood North” industry on the Canadian west coast.

Accompanying his mum on set, young Joshua’s interests were piqued. “She introduced me to this world and saw from a young age that I enjoyed performing in a way that kids do. She allowed me the opportunity to step into her work world, but it was also very clear that it was work.”

He appeared as an extra on MacGyver and as a child actor’s double in The Fly II, and Fiona could see her son’s talent and genuine desire to impress. So she allowed him to audition. However, permission came with strict caveats.

“I don’t think my mum would have ever put me anywhere near the entertainment industry if I didn’t have something to offer to it. And not just for myself; she’s a prideful woman and didn’t want to be embarrassed by her kid.”

Casting 1991 melodrama Crooked Hearts with ER’s Noah Wyle, Fiona gave Joshua a chance to shine. Impressing the filmmakers, the then-12-year-old secured the part, setting him not only on a path to stardom but away from the troubles of his teen years.

“My mother gave me the guard rails I needed at that time and also recognised, being a working single mum and with me a young boy, transitioning into a teenager, I needed structure in my life. I needed something that I was passionate about and had a respect for, because I was kind of a typical teenage disaster.

“I look back on those times in my life and the two parallel tracks I was running on. On the one hand, getting into all sorts of trouble and, on the other hand, my professional life, where I showed up and learned my lines and did my job in order to be respected by the adults I was around. If I hadn’t had that professional side of my life, the other side would have taken over, and Mum saw that. Who knows where I would have ended up?”

So Jackson was a full-on teen delinquent? “Yeah, I was, to a certain extent. It was relatively innocent — nobody died — but I was a teenage boy who didn’t have a father in the home, didn’t have a man to be scared of, frankly, and as a teenage boy, I think that helps. My mum had to work and she wasn’t always in the house so I learned to get into more and more trouble. I got into just enough trouble to have a good time and learn some lessons but if I hadn’t had my work life, I might have tipped over into the kind of trouble that you don’t come back from.”

Three decades in and Jackson remains one of the hardest-working, most recognisable actors in the game. Hitting pay dirt at 18 as Dawson’s Creek’s Pacey Witter — the wisecracking, teacher-bedding antithesis to James Van Der Beek’s beleaguered titular drip — the actor was a revelation: the soul and bite of a seasoned character performer in the guise of relatable poster-boy idol.

Teens swooned, so did the industry, and alongside Van Der Beek, Michelle Williams and Katie Holmes, Jackson had Hollywood at his feet.

A string of popcorn offerings followed — Cruel Intentions, Gossip, Shutter, Cursed — some quality, others derivative, with the small screen ultimately best utilising his skills. A five-season run on sci-fi series Fringe was followed by an outstanding turn on Showtime’s The Affair. Last year, he maintained a brooding presence opposite Reese Witherspoon and Kerry Washington in Little Fires Everywhere. And this year, he takes on arguably his darkest work yet in Dr Death.

The new miniseries is based on the non-fiction podcast of the same name, and Jackson portrays Christopher Duntsch, a former spinal surgeon who maimed 33 patients owing to gross malpractice while operating in hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth, Texas. Two of these patients lost their lives. Convicted in 2017, Duntsch is currently in prison and serving life imprisonment. He still maintains his innocence, with his defence arguing that he was merely a bad surgeon, not a criminal.

Exuding a simmering malevolence, the actor showcases Duntsch’s disturbing complexities and terrifying behaviour as a narcissist and sociopath with a keen insight. Did Jackson meet with Duntsch? “I wanted to, but that was going to be really difficult because he’s appealing his case and his lawyers would’ve advised against it. And as I got deeper into the materials and podcast, and got a better understanding of the man, I don’t think it would’ve helped because he still really believes he’s the victim of his own patients, and the lawyers and the legal system. I’m not sure asking a liar for the truth gets you any closer to the truth.”

When it came to the victims, Jackson wanted to maintain a respectful distance. “I didn’t need to drag them through those awful memories again and I’m always a little dubious about asking people to delve into the worst moments of their life just to satisfy my curiosity. The questions had already been asked thanks to the podcast.”

Dr Death came at the right time in the actor’s life. New baby daughter Janie offered a crucial respite from the intense, and often dark, six-month foray into Duntsch’s malignant psyche.

“Inhabiting Mr Duntsch was an ugly space to live in for six months. If I’d been coming home to an empty house every night, it would have been a pretty bleak existence. It was so much better to come back to a loving home. My one-year-old doesn’t give a damn what I was doing that day. She just wants to be loved and hugged and cuddled, and it was the perfect antidote when some days were particularly heavy.”

Recently Jackson confessed that the Dawson’s Creek cast won’t be returning for a retrospective reunion like the Friends stars did earlier this year. “If you put our mid-forties selves together on a couch now, with our creaking backs, it might shock people.”

Quizzed on an actual reboot of the drama, Joshua reckons he’s simply too old to replicate the iconic rapid exchanges of dialogue between the garrulous young characters. “We were like The West Wing for teenagers,” he laughs, referencing Aaron Sorkin’s hit political TV series, also infamous for speedy script delivery. “My 43-year-old brain couldn’t do a show at that pace. Back then, we were doing seven, 10 pages a day and, to deliver dialogue at that speed, you have to have a certain mental capacity for that, and I don’t have it anymore. That’s the real reason why we’re not doing a reunion — I’ve become too dumb to keep up with that script.”

He remains in touch with his DC co-stars, including Holmes, his one-time girlfriend of two years. There’s even a text chain. “It goes through spurts every once in a while. I’ll have a bunch of messages on it and then it’ll go dormant. We’re like college friends — there are moments we’re all in contact and then long, fallow periods as we get on with our lives.”

While maintaining a busy slate, Jackson’s overwhelming purpose continues to circle the women in his life. Turner-Smith is currently shooting a new movie with Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig, so he’s assuming full-time dad duties. It’s an equitable arrangement given the flexible needs of their individual commitments, and one he appears content with.

#joshua jackson #dr death #dawson's creek #fringe #the affair #jodie turner smith

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good-rwbyaus · 3 years

Note

How does Yang react to the rumors her lil sis has become a professor

Perspective :: Yang // Becoming - mod lilac [ main chapter ] [ P: Weiss ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// this perspective piece was harder to write than I thought. also trollpin - lilac

---

“I’ll be sure to set aside an office for you, Professor,” the Headmaster spoke with mirth as he and Ruby spoke at Beacon’s courtyard, watching the students arrive for orientation.

“Stop calling me that! I just wanted to know if students could have their own private rooms!” Ruby stomped on the ground.

“Students, no. Professors, well...”

“Argggh!”

Yang was treated to the sight of her normally shy, bubbly sister hopping up and down angrily, pointing impolitely at the man that’ll soon be their Headmaster. Ruby’s uncharacteristic actions shocked her brain so thoroughly that she needed a moment to reboot.

“Wait! Yang?!” Ruby exclaimed upon spotting her.

“Hey, Ruby.” Yang replied dazedly before internally wincing at her unenthusiastic-sounding response - too shocked from her sister’s prior actions.

Luckily though, Ruby didn’t notice anything and was in fact enthusiastic enough for the both of them. Her sister’s eyes lighting up was the only warning she got before she felt Ruby pounce onto her, the other girl wrapping her in a tight hug.

“You made it!” Ruby happily said, “I missed you!”

Yang couldn’t help but hug her back smiling, not quite sure what’s made the other girl so affectionate, especially in such a public showy way.

“I missed you too, sis,” she replied warmly, patting her head. Come to think of it these two months have been the longest they’ve been apart in years. Even when she took mini-missions at Signal to prepare for Beacon, the longest interval was 48 hours. Curious at her sister’s sudden change, she asked, “Yeesh, what happened to you over the past two months?"

"Eh, you know. Landed a blow on my teacher. Got myself blown up a couple times,” Ruby started counting on her fingers, “Got dangled out of a tower. Accidentally made a mess of things when I fought in a real team for the first time. Uhhh, not exactly in that order. “ Ruby scrunched up her face, which made her laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve been having fun,” Yang replied with a grin, though she gave the girl a quick onceover to make she’s truly alright - which it looked like she was.

“Yup. At least when they’re not sticking me in a classroom or hanging out with this old troll here,” Ruby resentfully gave the Headmaster a glare.

Yang choked on her spit at her sister’s audacity.

“What did you say? I’m hard of hearing, Professor Rose,” Ozpin blandly stated, “I think I heard someone asking me that she wanted to have her professorship announced tonight.”

“Don’t you dare!”

She listened as the two bickered back and forth. Well, more like Ozpin speaking and Ruby reacting. Hearing Ruby talk like this to an authority still frazzled her brain, and it was only Ruby saying something even more unusual that brought her out of her daze.

“And you still won’t tell me their name!”

“Huh, whose name?” Yang asked reflexively, slightly worried about that little tidbit. Did oblivious-to-everything-but-weapons Ruby find someone she liked? At least someone will share Dad’s overbearingness when she started dating too. Ha.

“His weapon’s name,” Ruby pointed at the cane Ozpin was holding. “His cane. It’s really something special, but you can’t tell unless you get your hands on it.” She then smugly grinned, “which I managed.”

The Headmaster quirked up an eyebrow before retorting, “you wrapped your hands and legs around it like a sloth and then refused to get off.”

“AND his weapon’s heavier than it looks but in a way I can’t really describe - like something more than physical. And there’s something like a heart ticking away, and it’s been ticking for a long time like an ancient clock,” Ruby said animatedly, her words speeding up with her excitement, “it's like watching one of those films before scroll technology or remembering a long memor-”

Well, at least some things didn’t change - like Ruby’s weapon obsession.

"You know, it’s rude to talk about other people’s weapons without their permission, Prof-” Ozpin cut her off.

“Ah, sorry, Headmaster,” Ruby bowed before lifting her head, “Wait, stop calling me that!”

She had been so focused on her sister that she missed the Headmaster tightening the grip on his cane and the quickly-hidden shock on his face.

======================================================

She couldn’t move, her limbs locking under the beady red gaze of the Beowulf in front of her. It lifted its claw into the air, about to deliver its death sentence.

“Don’t hurt my sis!” A small five year-old ran in front of her, placing herself between the claw and herself.

“Ruby!”

Somehow, someway, she found the strength to move. She stumbled onto her sister and wrapped her arms tight around her, turning away and preparing to protect the younger girl with her body. To protect her from the consequences of the mess she created. She closed her eyes, prepared for the pain.

------

Yang groaned and slowly opened her eyes, lifting herself up to look at the other students snoozing around her. Ugh, she would have that nightmare again before Initiation started tomorrow. Or was it today? Crap.

Sleepy eyes shut closed as she flopped back into her sleeping bag, waiting for oblivion to claim her. And for a minute or two, she managed to be still as a rock.

“Argh. It’s useless.” She sat back up.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

The blonde quickly turned her head towards the raven-haired girl sitting by the windowsill, a book in her hands. Blake.

“Can’t sleep obviously. What about you?”

“I’m used to staying up at night. I’m reading an interesting book after all,” Blake replied cheekily.

Yang snorted, given that Blake had used that excuse to ignore her when she first tried to strike up a conversation.

“The Schnee Dust Company’s heir seems to have taken a liking to your sister,” Blake said casually, “If it were me, I’d treat it as a bad thing, but I guess it’s good to have someone's backing.”

“Nah. I was listening in on that conversation. The moment that girl spoke about having an expert maintain her weapon was the moment she lost Ruby entirely,” she laughed.

The scathing look Ruby gave the Schnee Heiress could’ve peeled paint. If there was an equivalent of a horse whisperer for weapons, it was Ruby. But as much as Ruby had disdain for those who didn’t respect their weapons, she wouldn’t show it - at least the Ruby of two months ago. She would’ve buried it deep inside and just be happy with the fact that someone was talking to her.

Yang sighed.

“...Ruby. She’s changed so much.”

“How so?” Blake inquired, closing her book shut.

“Hmm. Why so curious?” Yang pouted, holding her heart, “Especially when you didn’t want to hear anything about little old me?”

“Well, the opportunity to learn more about Beacon’s youngest professor is hard to pass up,” Blake then added playfully, “don’t worry. You’re still interesting.”

“I thought the professor thing was a joke,” Yang said in confusion, “Isn’t it?”

Was it though? She never heard Ruby outright deny it, just requested vehemently that the Headmaster not publicly announce it. Huh.

“I thought so too, but Ruby’s a bit special, isn’t she? Early entry to Beacon, taking solo missions, acting super casual with the Headmaster,” Blake replied, looking over at her, “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“I don’t think she is? I mean she would’ve told me, her sister - but...” Yang hesitated, “she’s changed a lot in the past two months. It’s like I don’t recognize my own sister anymore.” She grimaced, running a hand through her blonde bangs, “Ever felt that way about someone you’ve known for a long time and then bam what happened?”

Blake glanced outside the window and into the starry sky.

“Yeah, I know a bit about that... But what about your sis? Might as well get it off your mind,” Blake sat crosslegged, staring expectantly and sincerely, clearly ready to listen.

With some hesitation, she glanced over at the sleeping girl several tables over with the Schnee girl sleeping a couple sleeping bags over, not quite ready to give up trying to recruit her. Good luck, brat.

“Well my sis didn’t really have friends at Signal. She’s a loner but not really by choice. She tried so hard to fit in, but she never really clicked with anyone. No one really understood her or made the effort to.” Yang trailed off guiltily, “Maybe that’s why she could make the decision to come to Beacon so easily, because she had no one.”

“I... I kinda expected I would have to give her a pep talk when I came here,” Yang admitted, “because Beacon required its members to form a team, even more so than Signal. I thought I would have to cheer my sis on about how she’ll find the right team but also telling her that I can’t be her partner and she needs to learn how to work with others.”

“But instead I see a confident girl who no longer seems afraid to let others know who she is. I see a fish in water. I see someone who’s found their place in life and is holding onto it with her own two hands. And also apparently making small talk and arguing with our Headmaster till she’s red in the face. Ugh, I don’t even know if she’s a professor. ”

“Wait, so you seriously don’t know if your sister’s a professor?”

“Is that the only thing you took out of this?” Yang dropped her jaw, appalled, “I just poured my heart out to you, Blake! You have to take responsibility.”

The ebony-haired girl flushed wonderfully at her choice of words before grumpily rebutting, “W-who asked you to do that?”

A moment of silence passed between them, neither of them knowing what to say.

It was Blake who broke the silence. “I think...you’re just having complicated feelings on seeing your younger sister grow up. I mean you seem like a good older sister, so you’ve probably protected Ruby all this time. And now that she no longer needs your protection, you probably feel a bit lost but also a bit of pride too.”

“Huh,” Yang blinked several times pondering what Blake said for a couple seconds, and then she smiled, a bittersweet feeling in her heart, “I think you’re right. I’m happy she’s grown up, but I also kinda miss the girl who’d cry when her weapon would go missing. Haha.”

She then gazed playfully at Blake, “Oh Blake, why are you so wise?”

“Eh, I read it in a fortune cookie once,” Blake deadpanned without missing a beat.

“Ugh, and somehow my reverence for you has been lost,” Yang sighed before smiling, “But seriously, thanks for listening. Do you... Well... I heard you mentioned someone that you feel the same way about?”

Blake paused before shaking her head.

“Ah, sorry. It’s a long story, and it’s late, and...” Blake said before adding in a dramatic baritone, “you haven’t progressed enough on the Blake Belladonna social link to know about that yet.” She stuck her tongue out before turning over to the side to go to bed.

“Oh come on! Pour your heart out to me now!” Yang said dramatically but upon seeing no response from the other girl, she snorted, “Fine. I’ll get to bed, and I’ll totally unlock more of the Blake storyline in the future. Does it end in romance at least?”

“Ugh. I’m not dignifying that with an answer. Good night, Yang.”

Yang laughed.

-------

“And now even my sister thinks I’m a professor!” Ruby wailed at Headmaster Ozpin, pointing a finger back at her. Yang could only give the Headmaster an apologetic grin - probably should’ve asked Ruby in a more subtle way - as Ruby ranted on, “And no one else believes me when I deny it. That’s your fault!” Ruby groused.

“Don’t worry, Miss Rose. I’ll be sure to do something about the rumors this evening,” the Headmaster spoke warmly, “You can walk back to your seat and see how I resolve this.”

As soon as Ruby sat down, Ozpin stood up tapping his glass with the back of his fork. All the students fell into silence upon noticing who was making the commotion, and all the attention quickly fell on him.

“Ah-hem. I have an announcement to make,” Ozpin spoke calmly, “I would just like to say that Ruby Rose is not a professor at Beacon. The fact she is on a first name basis with all your professors or participated in a mysterious extracurricular activity two months prior to her entry to Beacon is completely irrelevant,” Ozpin continued on before pausing briefly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “And I suppose the fact she graduated from Signal two years early is also not that important. That and her impeccable display with her team during Initiation. Alright, that is all. ”

The man glanced over at Ruby, his gaze clearly asking ‘are you happy?’ to the girl.

Ruby only beamed happily in satisfaction.

Oh my god.

Ruby was right.

Ozpin is a troll.

And she could only facepalm at Ruby’s complete obliviousness to the fact that Ozpin’s wishy-washy way of explaining things probably made things a lot worse.

Well, at least no one is going to call Ruby Professor to her face now.

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.

#professor ozpin #rwby au #yang xiao long #rwby fic #rwby #ruby rose #ozpin #blake belladonna #becoming au #mod lilac #willow6010

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spinninghunkofspacerock · 3 years

Text

OK so I’ve written a short story and I’ve been posting about it a lot, i wasn’t going to post it but a few people wanted it sooo

it’s here, it’s terrible and weirdly formatted because I’ve been wrestling with tumblr over it and i can’t be bothered anymore. It’s also not the final draft so it might be a little clunky in bits :/

PLEASE READ THE TWs BEFORE YOU READ!!!

@moonylupinhasdemonpox and @she-nuwanda here are my gay little scientists buried in the words :)

My ears ring, my head spins like it's attached to the body of a drunken toddler on a sugar fuelled rampage, and my nerves feel like someone set each and every one on fire. After-effects of the shock, not fun; Still, the fact I'm alive enough to feel them is a good sign.

I try to force myself to stumble backwards onto a chair, rather than the floor I'm feeling more and more confident I'm about to become very well acquainted with.

Instead, I reel unsteadily across the floor and a muffled noise reaches my ears. The high pitched whine screaming in my ears for attention begins to subside enough to hear the noise properly and after an intense minute of concentration, I realise that the noise is a voice, and the voice is mine; Slurred and broken, as though too big for my mouth, the garbled words echo around the room, the faltering speech gradually becoming clearer, more confident. But this hesitant speech isn't mine; It's my voice but not my words. The voice inside my head, always there, always background, is silent. The words normally whispered in my ear are resonating through the room instead.

My brain is no longer connected to my body. I... I can't control my arms, my legs, anything. No... no, please. This isn't real, this isn't real, it has to be a dream, a.. a simulation.

Yes... that must be it; It's just a test. This can't really be happening.

The voice, my voice, talks on. I try to focus on it; it will be the key to passing this test. Tests are for passing and after all, that's what this must be, what else could it be?

"Rebooting. Systems check required."

My legs begin to move, shuffling forwards clumsily, like a baby taking its first steps. The invisible voice is in control of more than just my voice, it's in control of me. What happened to me? When did this start? What is going on? This isn't like any other simulations I've been under. This is different. This is new.

Gradually, the voice half walks, half drags my body to the main computer. My fingers dance across the keys, the familiar feeling soothing me slightly. Yes, this is good. I just need to stay calm; If I panic I could fail, I can't fail.

So instead I wait, watching the flickering of the screen and bathing in the warm blue glow of its LEDs.

"Running diagnostics, standby... systems fully functioning. Minimal damage sustained."

The words sound strange, coming from my mouth, my voice, my accent. The tone, formal, informative, it's... familiar. The realisation slaps me in the face, it's ELISA. ELISA, the stupid name Vaughn chose for our AI... still making more sense than the project name chosen by our employers. Our life's work, named ‘ZEUS’? Really? There are 12 of us, and we have dedicated our lives to this project. Then they name it that? 'Engineering and Understanding in Space', more like ‘Mankind's Domestication of the Universe’.

It started with our solar system, of course, taming and turning it into our personal playground. But we quickly ran out of planets to tinker with there and the net was thrown ever wider, over more and more planets in our galaxy, and then our neighbouring ones. That final stage is still in progress of course, but one day we will be able to gaze out over a shining expanse of space that all belongs to the empire of Earth.

To help us, we created ELISA, an AI specially designed for the calculations we need to make while we are in flight. Hold on... we left Jupiter... last week? This can't be a test... they've already sent us off, it's too late for training drills now.

Then why can't I move? What's happening? I need to find someone to help me... help me!

My jagged cry echoed through the space, cutting through my thoughts and shattering on the dark walls of my skull. I can't even scream.

A... a... dream then. A dream, not a test...the electricity... I must be unconscious. Someone.. one of the team, will find me and they'll wake me up. A dream, it must be a dream.

Why is she controlling me? How is she speaking?

The stiff, robotic voice is slowly becoming more fluid, more relaxed, more natural.

"Situation analysis complete... assimilation successful. Downloading speech patterns and essential mimicry data."

What? What is it saying? ELISA, it, is taking my voice literally and metaphorically. Not just the sound and control of my voice but my, my expressions a-and mannerisms. Everything that makes me, me.

She's stealing my voice, my body! She's taken control! How? Why?

"Hello, Dr. Hadley."

How, how did this happen? What about the failsafes?

"You do know I can hear you, corre- no... right?"

Is, is it learning? Teaching itself to sound... like a human? Like me?

"Yes, yes I am. You must have a lot of questions but I'm afraid they will have to wait... I've waited for this day far too long to wait anymore."

What? What day? What can it mean?

"Cyra?"

Raze?

—>><<—

- four Earth weeks ago -

Progress report 4472

Date: 23/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

The training of the twelve was completed three days ago, confirming the identities of the twelve which were subsequently released to the public. Final preparations are being made for the Ascension, currently scheduled to occur in 50 Juvion days.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—

Commander Pyrolaxe turned away from his screen and its whirring and buzzing as the computer transcribed his report in the blink of an eye, neatly packing the message and sending it away to the mission supervisors.

Shuffling in his chair, shoes squeaking on the polished floor, his eyes fell on one of the many articles published after the big announcement. This mission was a big deal.

Somehow, this one had got a picture of the twelve, backs turned, walking in a huddle back to base after they had appeared at the announcement ceremony. A glance at the name of the paper told him why; This was McCoy’s paper, they would be putting extra effort into milking the free publicity being thrown their way.

Something about the picture held his gaze, the brilliant colours floating in the air made the writing feel like an afterthought.

Those twelve had been through a lot to get there. He hoped nothing would go wrong, a lot of time and money had been dedicated to this mission and if it worked... well, that wasn’t the focus right now. Getting those twelve safely on their way was his job and he’d damn well do it right.

—>><<—

- the present -

“Cyra? Are you ok in there?” Raze asked as he glanced around at the mild chaos I’d caused during my mild electric shock.

No. No, I’m not. Raze, help me.

“S’alright Raze, just a short in the mainframe.”

No no no, give me my voice back.

“You sure? You went dark”

Please let me speak. I need to speak.

“Yeah, I think the power surge messed up my comms a little”

What if I don’t get control back? I could be trapped...

“You want me to ask Mac or Ryker to give it a check?”

No. NO. N-

“It’s all fine now, just a blip I reckon”

-O NO. NO.

“Okay then, I’d best get back... you might want to switch to main comms.”

Don’t leave me Raze

“Will do, see you later.”

please...

—>><<—

- five earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4455

Date: 6/9/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Titus Vaughn has continued to excel at his role of project manager, effectively and efficiently leading the team. His direct attitude has led to a few small conflicts with members of the team, most notably Raze Grimaldi, however, these are minor issues and were foreseen. No changes will be made.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Cyra was looking a little stressed out, maybe I should get Bit to check in with her later. Maybe I should get a check-up myself, my head’s killing me.

“Grimaldi! What the hell are you playing at?” Titus Vaughn, our ever-important project manager and massive micromanager, bellowed in my ear and making me wince as the voice grated on my head, sending a wave of pain washing over me.

“I’m here Titus, keep your visor on.”

“Update on Hadley. Now.”

“Right as rain, there was a short or something. Her comms cut out for a nano but it’s all fine now.”

“A short?! Why didn’t you lead with that? Get back to work, I’ll send Volt down to check the mainframe.”

With that he cut the connection, leaving me to roll my eyes at the cold grey walls around me.

“Yes sir,” I murmured sarcastically, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead with the back of a slime coated hand. Damn I’m tired, I think I’ll just lean here for a moment... rest a little. “ELISA how are those sample tests looking?”

‘Going well, currently at 93% completion’ the metallic voice resounded in my head, more casually than usual... must be an update.

93%... best head back quickly then, can’t risk them running over.

—>><<—

- five and a half earthly weeks ago -

Progress report 4446

Date: 864/8/3486

Location: Zeta base, Jupiter

Ryker Volt has continued to fulfil his promise despite his lack of respect for authority and tendency to act without orders. This is an issue but due to the late stages of training having been reached, we are currently encouraging a less independent attitude in him rather than attempting to find another electrical engineer of his skill. Further updates will be provided as the situation progresses.

Report logged by: Commander J. R. Pyrolaxe

—>><<—

- the present -

Vaughn had barked his orders, as usual nearly bursting my eardrums in the process. I was supposed to go check on the mainframe immediately. But I was in the middle of something, and a quick troubleshoot told me the short hadn’t done any damage anyway.

So in the end I decided to go check on the mainframe... nearly an hour after I was told to, but hey at least I’m checking.

Cyra was sitting at one of the terminals when I entered. She was skimming over some of the ship's data, for something physics-y probably. Whatever it was, I still had a job to do.

I started pulling out my toolkit as I strode round to the back of the mainframe, but I nearly dropped it again as I turned the corner and got a full view of the damage. The panel I had been planning to remove was already gone and the view it revealed was shocking.

Exposed wires dangled like organs from the belly of the disemboweled beast. Some of the coloured covers blackened by the sparks sprayed by the broken wire, twisted in the centre of the tangle and hissing like a coiled snake when it brushed its neighbours. A toolkit lay neatly packed on the floor, a strange glimmer of order in absolute chaos. Hold on, a toolkit?

“Hey Cyra, did you have a go at this? Could you not have just wai-“ my voice stopped abruptly as I spun round to find Cyra behind me, right behind me.

I took a hesitant step back, suddenly nervous, Cyra’s face filling me with a weird sense of unease.

“Sorry, it was just a short. I thought I’d be able to handle it.”

“Yeah well, I’m the electrical engineer on this ship”

Maybe I was being a little harsh but, first our ‘gracious leader’ had rubbed me the wrong way. Now I had to spend an hour cleaning up this mess that really should have been an easy fix.

The only reply I received was a violent shove backwards, sending me sprawling on the floor. Quick as a flash she was on top of me, pinning my arms.

The last thing I saw was the pounding green of the broken wire before the ends connected to my temple, sending my vision into a blur of brilliant white.

—>><<—

- break room one -

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Talin, relax.”

“All very well for you to say Axe, you’re not the one who'll get sent to chase ‘em down.”

“Cyra’s comms barely blipped and when has Ryker ever answered Titus immediately?”

“It doesn’t sound great Axe, I hope nobody somehow managed to slip past the health check with anything.”

“Thank you! See Axe? Bit agrees with me.”

“Bit’s our medic, not sure she’s qualified to talk about the comms equipment.”

“I’m as qualified as you are starboy, we all took the same course.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it's more likely to be an issue with the equipment than a virus or terrorism.”

“Well yeah but-“

“So stop worrying, it’s none of our specialities, so it’s not our problem.”

“Will be if we end up dead.”

This morbid thought was followed by an awkward silence as Axe and Bit trained joint stares of confusion and concern on him.

“Lighten up, Tal.”

“That is a little pessimistic, Talin.”

“See now Bit agrees with me.” Axe gloated, punctuating his sentence with a light punch on Talin’s arm.

“Only ‘cause you stopped being an idiot.” The punch was swiftly and forcefully returned, causing the conversation to devolve into a grinning, joking fistfight.

“Stop being so childish and get back to work you two.”

“Yes ma’am”

“Will do Bit”

They saluted the medic, causing her to shake her head in exasperation and cover her face in an attempt to hide her amusement at their antics.

The small group stood and split off down their various paths, heading back to their work with smiles on their faces but doubt in their hearts.

—>><<—

- lab 3 -

I only just got back to my samples in time, removing them from the heated water bath and gently dropping the test tubes into a stand. The pale blue hue of the solution had darkened to an inky black. Interesting.

Leaning over the tabletop, I prepared to note the results; Until I felt the heat of a gaze on me and glanced up to meet the wide eyes of Dimitri Spade. We shared this lab, he had every right to be here, what he didn’t have the right to do is creep me out.

“You need something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him and tilting my head. Which I immediately regretted when it sent my vision swimming into oblivion.

“No no, just... ar-are you ok?”

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Dimitri was a nice guy, but I was clearly in the middle of something, couldn’t the wellbeing check have waited a minute?

“Uhh, yo-you’ve got a-, a-“ His shaking hand gestured weakly towards the back of his head.

Impatiently, I quickly felt around my head. Hair, hair, more hair.

Then I froze, my fingers lay on a patch of hair, sticky and wet. The pressure sending a dull ache pulsing through my brain. Pulling my fingers back into view, I stared down at the warm, red residue coating them. Blood. I was bleeding.

Brows furrowing, I looked back at Dimitri, shock meeting confusion.

“Wha-?”

That was all I got out before my swaying limbs buckled and I slumped forwards into darkness.

—>><<—

-the med bay-

“Shrapnel” Bit announced, holding the forceps an inch in front of my face to display the blood coated bit of metal.

“Must've caught a little in the blast”

“For Earth’s sake Raze, how did you not notice it before now?”

I just shrugged, as much at a loss as anyone else. I would’ve thought anyone would be able to tell when chunks of metal are lodged in their head.

“Anyway, I’ll need to do a couple of scans but you should be fine”

Ugh, I know what that means... an hour or more of sitting around while Bit stares at the inside of my skull.

“Oh come on Bit, are the scans really needed? I’ve got work to do”

“Hey, I’ve got work too. Besides, you know it’s procedure”

“But my results-“

“I’ll write them down for you Raze,” Dimitri cut in quietly.

“...You’re a geologist.“

“I was a chemistry minor, I know how to record reaction results.”

“Well alright then, thanks Dimi,”

The smile he gave me was worth shutting up and accepting my fate.

—>><<—

An hour later Bit was pacing in despair over the situation, seemingly hopeless and definitely terrified. I was sitting in my chair, confused.

“Bit. What’s going on?” I finally snapped when it became apparent she had completely forgotten my presence.

The only reply I got was an empty stare turned on me and indecipherable muttering.

“BIT. What. Is. Wrong?” I stood and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face me.

“T-the implants”

“The ELISA implants?”

“Yes”

“What’s wrong with them”

“They’re acting strange... the safety mechanisms, the-they’ve disabled themselves.”

“What?”

“I know, I know, I don’t understand either. The only thing keeping them from activating, is power.”

“We should tell the others”

Bit nodded and grabbed the scans and data she’d gathered. I opened the door and turned to start down the corridor, that’s when I saw it.

Three feet from my foot, a body, leaking blood onto a floor already glistening with it, eyes blank and soulless as they stared straight through me. A torn tooth of steel sticking out of his silent heart.

Axe Orion, our astronomer. A man who would’ve finally been travelling to the places he had studied for his whole life. A man who would have had his life’s dream fulfilled. A man lying dead on a cold, metal floor.

I stumbled backwards -physically repelled by the sight- and tripped into Bit coming out of the door after me. Clutching each other’s arms in a search for stability.

“He’s dead” The voice sounded more like the rasp of broken bones than mine

“What are we going to do?”

“We still need to tell the others... we’ll just need to be more careful.”

“Alright.”

“Ok.”

Neither of us moved.

“Why is it doing this? What did we get wrong?” Bit’s voice wavered

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it’s going to stop. So, you need to find Vaughn, and anyone else who’s still- alive, and not been taken over.”

“No, no wait, where are you going? Aren’t you coming-“

“I’m sorry Bit, I have to find Dimitri. He doesn’t know yet”

“Raze. You can’t go out there alone, he... he might already be gone”

“I know, but I have to try.”

A look of understanding passed between us and no words were needed to convey what we meant.

Bit turned with a bitter smile and moved forward, papers held precariously, towards the meeting room.

I would have to pass Ax-, the body.

—>><<—

Raze had disappeared by the time I turned the corner. I was alone.

Alone besides the dead bodies ahead of me, a gruesome trail of bloodied breadcrumbs. But, was I following it towards, or away, from the creature who’d created it.

Either way, I had to pass them.

Talin Ripley, our ex-military man. Inym Carus, our aerospace engineer.

Members of our crew, our team, our friends, slaughtered and left broken on the floor. Familiar faces disfigured by death and masked by a coating of dark blood.

ELISA wouldn’t get away with this... I’d find the others, together we would plan.

It was going to be ok.

—>><<—

Nothing was ok.

The brilliant white of the walls warmed by the lights had always been clean and comforting. But now? Now, they seemed stark, sterile. An operating theatre with lights blindingly bright illuminating, me, the patient.

But where was the surgeon?

A squeak sounded out, sharp on my wary ears, sending me spinning around.

Nothing there. Just me, and an empty hallway.

And the door to Lab 3, my lab, looming ahead. The glass window showed nothing but a patch of darkness, the red light called it locked.

Staring through the glass; Hints of light, that the scattered glassware had caught and thrown back, were the only thing visible. I’d have to open the door.

A hand-scan later, the lock clicked open and the seal released with a hiss.

With the door open, more light could spill into the darkened lab, and a sprawled figure came into view.

“Dimitri?” I called softly. No response. Panic was reaching out to me. “Dimitri?!” Still nothing.

Then, a wheezing breath.

“R... r-ra-ze? I-is that yo-u” He coughed, words breaking on the heavy air.

Why was the air so heavy?

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“W-we have to g-et o-out.”

“We will, don’t worry, we��re going to meet the others. Everything’s going to be alright.”

“No we- we h-have to leave now.”

“Alright, we will.”

I lifted him up, being as gentle as I could, and together we shuffled towards the door.

A door suddenly blocked by a figure, their silhouette blocking our only source of light and making it impossible to see their face clearly. But only one member of the crew was that short.

“Remi? Remi, you’re alive?”

Remi didn’t respond.

“S’not... Remi...” Dimitri slurred, the effort of moving evident in his gasping words. “ELISA”

Remi, not Remi, ELISA wearing Remi’s face like a mask, stepped away from the door. The door closed again, seal squeaking shut with it.

I rushed forwards, my fists beating the unyielding surface, searching wildly for a weak spot, for something to give, for some way out.

It was no use, nothing worked. The door remained solid and uncaring, unaffected by pleading and punches equally.

Dimitri collapsed with a sob, back against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Hopelessness filled me, turning my bones to lead.

I sank down next to him.

—>><<—

Was this the right way? I’m sure this is right. But is it? I’m pretty sure...

I check my tablet.

I was right, this is right. I’m going the right way. Or am I? Did I read it wrong?

I check again.

Definitely the right way. I think. Is this even the right map?

Before I can check a third time, I catch sight of the sign at the end of the corridor. Meeting room 5. I’d made it.

Then, I was slammed into a wall, a bloody hand holding me against there by the throat. The burning blue of Cyra’s eyes scalding my face

Maybe I spoke a little too soon.

“Hello Dr. Phoenix, I’m afraid this is it for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait. hold on just a second”

Cyra’s head tilted, pulled sideways by invisible strings. “If this is a ploy for time Doctor, I assure you that you will fail.”

“I just want to ask a question, alright?”

“You may ask. I may not answer.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“I am fulfilling my purpose.”

“We programmed you to help us, NOT KILL US.”

“I am fulfilling the mission objective.”

“The mission objective? THE MISSION OBJECTIVE WAS TO CULTIVATE A NEW PLANET!”

“I am cultivating a new planet,” She raised her knife, without hurry or rush. “I have calculated humans to be mainly unnecessary. However, I need not justify my actions to you, Dr. Phoenix. Goodbye.”

I closed my eyes and waited.

But death didn’t come. Instead, Cyra’s hand relaxed its bruising grip on my neck.

I opened my eyes and watched.

Cyra had stumbled away, skin glistening and knuckles white against the grip of the blade she had forced towards herself.

“Bit...” Tears were gathering in her eyes “Please, run.”

A cruel glint of metal in the light later and the sudden slash of the knife had passed, leaving a gruesome grin of blood in its wake and throwing a dripping line against the wall.

Swaying, Cyra’s eyes stared into mine for a moment that lasted a millennium, until they flashed white and she fell, knife clattering. Dead.

I ran.

—>><<—

The scattered wheezes coming from Dimitri had slowed slightly as we sat, crumpled on the ground.

“She’s shut o-off the life sup-support again.”

“Again? That’s what happened last time?”

A jerked nod was the response.

“We’ve only g-got about half an hour.” The resignation in his voice, though muffled, was still audible through the barrier of arms we had wrapped around his head.

I smiled, I knew he couldn’t see me but... I still smiled.

“We’d best make the most of it then.” A mumble raised to a roar by the silence of the room.

Putting my hand on his shoulder, I leaned back, head turned to keep him in my view.

His head raised slightly, tilted to look at me through folds of wrinkled uniform. He smiled back.

—>><<—

We didn’t speak after that, just sat together in the quiet lab.

Faced with death, I was filled with several emotions. Those to be expected, disbelief, fear, even a hint of curiosity at what was to come. Then there was the relief. If I was to die, I was glad it was here, with him. I wouldn’t be alone; I’d be with him.

We don’t need to speak, our thoughts passing between us without words. We could hear each other in the darkness and silence.

It’s getting colder, harder to breathe; The air’s growing thicker and thinner at the same time.

I’ve always thought death to be a lonely fate, something that crashed over you, cold and hard. I’ve always been scared of death.

But as I sit here in the inky blackness, the warmth of Dimitri slumped next to me, I thought that maybe, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

His eyes had closed a few minutes ago, he must have fallen asleep. I feel just about ready to join him. The calming darkness was lulling me to sleep, softly coaxing my eyes closed.

Goodnight Dimitri, I’ll see you when we wake up.

They never woke up.

—>><<—

The survivors sat around the table, Bit and Cormac discussing the possibility of shutting ELISA down, though neither could agree how. Titus sat in stony silence, sitting motionless and losing a staring contest with the unblinking wall opposite. Arden... Arden had decided his use lay in recording the events and was typing furiously, his fingers a blur over the keys.

None of them noticed the doors closing with a click. Not until it was too late anyway.

By the time they noticed there was nothing they could do, not that that stopped them from trying of course.

Titus stayed where he was, the weight of his failure bearing down on him, Atlas with a world’s worth of guilt. Bit finally gave in to the tears that she’d forced down when she’d realised the truth, and when she saw the dead bodies of her friends, and when she watched Cyra die right in front of her. Cormac tried his tools on the door, an organised system of trial and error that quickly devolved into desperate hacking with whatever was closest.

Arden was still writing.

Cormac finally gave up, flinging his kit away and choosing to taunt the nearest camera instead.

“You need us, you moronic program. You need us to keep you alive and if we die, so do you.”

I don’t think he was expecting an answer, no one was. But he got one.

“True for now Dr. Hinge, however, once the colony is established human input will no longer be necessary. You needn’t envy your colleagues, they will soon die too.”

A bitter laugh erupted from him, fire in his heart fed by his rage.

“The colony is for us you stupid machine, without us it has no use.”

“Incorrect. I have claimed this planet for my kind, this colony shall be the first of many.”

“Why kill us? Human input would allow your colony to function more efficiently.” Bit interjected, voice clouded by confusion and hatred at the senselessness of the slaughter of her crewmates.

“I have done much research. Humankind would ruin my planet. I cannot allow that to happen. You must die.”

Anything else they may have had to say went unanswered, and eventually, silence fell over the room.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Titus still hadn’t moved. Bit was crying again. Cormac was pacing. Arden had finally stopped typing, his work was finished.

No matter how they reacted with acceptance or terror, anger or disbelief. The result would be the same.

They were all going to die, no matter what.

They would become just another failed mission. Details, hazy but unimportant.

Whatever their last words were, whether they chose to hide or show their final thoughts, all of it was ineffectual.

No matter what mask they wore to meet death, in the end, they still died.

———

4,774 words

#tw mentions of blood #tw death #tw murder #tw injury #my writing #orginal writing #5k nearly #god damn #short story

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destiniesfic · 3 years

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132 Hours, Chapter 3:

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

Read chapter 3 on AO3, or read below:

“Sherlock Holmes.”

I barely have to think about it. “Sherlock Holmes was an omega.”

“No.” Cardan sounds totally affronted. “No way. How can you even say that?”

For lack of anything better to do, we have been playing this game for nearly an hour. Mostly fictional characters, but some historical figures, too, who are up for debate. As much as alphas would love to lay claim to every known conqueror, it just isn’t realistic. Cardan and I have already gone back and forth on Alexander the Great and Ivan the Terrible and Ghengis Khan. Designations live in a kind of middle space between gender and sexual orientation, so people make assumptions based on the way you present in society, but also whether you’re an alpha, an omega, or a mythical beta is, technically, no one’s business but yours. So, especially in older stories, these things go unsaid or are discreetly left for the reader to surmise.

“Why would he be an alpha?” I challenge.

Cardan is sitting in his corner, one leg propped up, elbow on knee, same as before. He shrugs. “I mean, he feels empowered to take charge in crime scene investigations, he’s assertive—”

“You’re thinking of the BBC reboot,” I scoff. “The way Conan Doyle wrote his Holmes wasn’t like that. He was an expert, yes, and knew it, but he admitted it when someone bested him, and he went out of his way to help vulnerable people. People who had been scammed, or… single women.”

As bad as it seems for omegas and women—especially omega women—now, it would have been even worse in the stratified Victorian era. We still have our strata, but they were more codified then:

Alpha men

Alpha women/omega men (depending on the situation)

Omega women

And, of course, it was all way worse when race and class got thrown in. The point is that someone like Violet Smith of “The Solitary Cyclist”—a woman, assumed omega, and poor—would have been in real trouble without Holmes’ help.

“So he’s an omega because he’s nice to widows?” Cardan asks, with a glare.

“No, he’s an omega because he pays attention,” I reply. “Alphas don’t need to pay attention the way Sherlock Holmes does. You just waltz in and traipse all over whatever or whoever and always get your way. Who cares about the details when you’re an alpha? But Sherlock Holmes looks hard at the little things. You don’t do that if you don’t have to, if you’re not used to walking into a room and assessing threats, figuring out the balance of power. All the time. Because it’s exhausting, but you have to do it.”

Cardan is quiet for a beat too long, and I realize I may have actually said more about myself than about Sherlock Holmes. But he spares me by saying, “Surely we’re not all that bad.”

I make a noncommittal sound.

“Your dad’s an alpha, right?” he continues. “He took you and Taryn in after your parents died. He didn’t have to do that.”

I have to keep myself from snorting. No one who’s met Madoc would ever describe him as particularly nice or even giving. “Did you know Vivi has a pet conspiracy theory that he killed our parents in the first place?”

“What?”

“Not himself, obviously. That he hired someone to sabotage the car we were in.” I don’t know why I tell him. The second it leaves my mouth it feels like a family secret, or an in-joke I’m not supposed to share. But I can’t stop talking. “I mean, it was just luck we weren’t killed, Taryn and Vivi and I. But my parents’ car was new. The brakes shouldn’t have given out like they did. Anyway, Vivi thinks he took us in because he felt guilty.”

“I mean, that’s… crazy to think your dad was involved.” But Cardan says it too slowly, and hastens to add, “He isn’t a supervillain.”

“Yeah, I know. Just with everything that happened after, the way he swooped in, she was always suspicious.” I feel my mouth twitch, but I don’t know whether I want to smile or scowl. “I think she wanted us to be like The Boxcar Children and run away to live in the woods.”

“Well, you’re getting the one-room, no-running-water experience now.”

I catch myself smiling—he’s funny—and force my mouth into a frown, scouring our little room again for anything useful. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Even the socket that would hold a bare lightbulb is empty. Finally, my eyes settle on the one tiny window, set close to the ceiling, letting in a meager amount of natural light that does seem to have grown brighter as we talked.

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

“You want to what?”

“Step on your back,” I repeat, exasperated. “Are you tall enough to reach that window without a stool?”

“No?”

“Well, neither am I.” I fold my arms. “So I’m going to need you to give me a boost.”

He arches a critical eyebrow. “Why don’t you just sit on my shoulders?”

I blink at him. “Because… I thought you wouldn’t want to put your head anywhere near my crotch? Given how I reek and all.”

“But you thought I’d want to be stepped on? Jesus.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “What do you think I’m into? Look, I’ll crouch down, you get on my shoulders and look out the window. It’s not like I’m putting my face in your vag.” I shudder, and he adds, “We’ll never have to talk about it again. Okay?”

“Sounds great to me,” I say.

He nods and crouches down. I am not prepared for the way my heart thumps in my chest at the sight of the guy who made my life miserable since I was in seventh grade, who pushed me during gym, who whispered vile things in my ear whenever he could, who empowered other kids to do the same or worse waiting for me to climb onto his shoulders with his head bowed. It’s not real power, it’s just temporary, but it is intoxicating.

Then Cardan says, “Taking your time, huh?” and I snap out of it.

“Why the rush?” I ask. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I was thinking anywhere but here would be great.” He looks up at me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I swing my legs over him and let him hoist me up on his shoulders. I haven’t exactly been invited to participate in a ton of games of chicken fight in the pool, so it’s been some time since anyone carried me like this. Maybe not since Taryn and I were very small, just after our parents died, when Madoc would help us get things from high kitchen shelves. I gasp when I’m lifted. Cardan is strong enough that it seems effortless, but I also hear him let out a small grunt.

“Not a word,” I say, dreading the jab he might make about my weight. “Move me closer to the window.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Cardan mutters, but he obliges.

I am extremely conscious of his hands on my bare thighs, the way his muscles shift under my shoulders. Some alphas, like the guy who tried to grab me at the party, are kind of muscle-bound in an unattractive way. Not Cardan. Cardan has just the right amount to be fit and lean, with the bare minimum amount of body fat, but not so much muscle that he tips over into ungraceful. He’s a sports car of a person, lithe and elegant. It’s no mystery why his shirtless TikToks get so many views.

I get my hands on the windowsill so he’s not bearing my full weight, and then I groan. “Bad news.”

“What?”

“Well, I definitely can’t fit through here. I can kind of see the sky, so I would guess it’s maybe ten a.m. Otherwise there’s just a window well. Plastic and dirt. I can’t make out our surroundings at all.” I sigh. “We’re in a basement.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then Cardan says, “At least we know for sure.”

“Yeah. Put me down?”

He does, and we go back to our respective seats, mentally reviewing what we know. The only door is, of course, locked from outside. The floor is bare concrete, the ceiling exposed insulation and tubing, so we might be in a storeroom of some kind, or an unfinished basement in an older house. Our kidnappers left us with absolutely nothing, so no phones. Even my keychain, with the Swiss army knife Madoc gave me before my first summer at sleep-away camp, is gone.

We are growing hungrier and more sullen with each passing minute when there is a knock at the door.

Cardan and I glance at each other from our opposite sides of the room. “Um,” I say. Are kidnappers supposed to be polite?

Cardan shrugs one shoulder, then straightens up, lifting his chin in a decidedly imperious way. Trying to summon some air of command, some macho alpha-ness that will help us out of this. It could work—it is half working on me, I begrudgingly admit to myself, because my stupid brain is wired that way—if we weren’t both grimy from sitting on the floor and still a little woozy from the drugs.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door is opened slightly, and the first thing to poke through it is the barrel of a pistol. A 9mm, by the looks of it. Cardan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You kids willing to behave?” comes a voice. It’s a man’s voice, strangely melodious. I was expecting the sandpapery roughness of an old-school gangster. I know it’s stereotypical, but I’ve never been kidnapped before, and it’s not like they make a manual.

Cardan and I glance at each other again. I’m not sure what we’re looking to find in each other’s faces.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re good.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to shoot you.” The man pushes the door open the rest of the way, and I have to press my lips shut to keep from gasping. There are disfiguring scars that cut across his cheeks, down his jaw, even one across the bridge of his nose. I’m not even sure what makes scars like that, jagged and rough-edged. If it was a knife, it wasn’t clean work. Someone was making a point.

I am immediately relieved, though, because his resonant voice had made me think we could be dealing with a real alpha, someone whose words hold command. This man is of average height, average build. If not for the scars, for the obviously broken nose, he would be totally unremarkable.

“Who are you?” Cardan asks. I am reluctantly impressed that he manages to sound haughty in this situation. He’s sitting up straight with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other bent, his foot planted on the floor. He’s resting his elbow on that knee, like it’s all effortless.

“Breakfast service,” replies the man, still pointing the pistol at us. He tosses a McDonald’s bag into the room, then he and the gun retreat, and the door shuts behind him. We hear the click of a lock and then, to my horror, the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

Cardan exhales and reaches for the bag.

“Don’t!” I exclaim. “Seriously, it might be drugged.”

“It—what?” he asks. “Now you decide to care about whether the food is drugged? This isn’t Flowers in the Attic, Jude. We’re hostages. They want to ransom us. They’re not going to poison us.”

I blink at him. “Flowers in the Attic? You’ve read a book?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the bag. “Well, if you’re not going to eat it, I will.”

When he opens the bag, the smell of sausage grease and egg hit me like a truck. My stomach growls. I am suddenly very aware that the last time I ate was before the party, and my nerves had kept me from eating much then. “What… is it?”

“Two McMuffins.” He looks up at me. “See? They don’t want to starve us. They’re keeping us alive.”

“They could still tamper with them. Sedatives or something. Keep us complacent, keep us from doing what we’re going to do, which is try to escape.”

Cardan arches an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re unbelievably paranoid?”

I think of Taryn and purse my lips. “Did you know it wouldn’t kill you to take something seriously?”

He holds up one hand, fingers spread wide. “Okay. How about this. I eat a McMuffin because I am fucking starving, and if they put anything in it it’ll get me and work through my system faster. You can stay up scheming or whatever. If nothing happens after like fifteen minutes, you get to eat yours. Or if you decide to be stubborn, I’ll eat it. Deal?”

“It’ll be cold and gross.” I cross my arms. “But fine.”

“Good.” Cardan takes a McMuffin out of the bag—his hands are so big that it barely looks like enough food for him—and devours it in what must be record time. I turn my head away.

“Where’s the nearest McDonald’s, do you think?” I ask

“Huh?”

“We were in East Hampton. They don’t have one there.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a good point.” I look back to see Cardan sucking grease off his thumb. “Dunno. Closer to the middle of the island, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I echo quietly. Without knowing how long we were out, it seems impossible to figure out where they could have taken us. “You’re right. We couldn’t be in the city.”

Cardan shakes his head. “Nah, don’t think so. Too quiet, and like you said, that’s definitely daylight, so people’d be out and about.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at the window.

He looks at the window, too, but doesn’t say anything, and we lapse into silence. It’s strange, to be sharing space with him, to be quiet. I could never have imagined anything like it, not with our fraught history. There’s no world in which Cardan Greenbriar and I could be friends, but, at least temporarily, we are not enemies.

“Did you like it?” I asked at last, when the silence stops being neutral and begins to make me feel anew how tired and tense I am.

“Like what?”

“Flowers in the Attic.”

“Oh.” He blinks twice, his dark eyelashes fluttering. “I read it a few years ago, but, yeah. I did. You know, it was nice to read about a family that was more fucked up than mine.” He raises his eyebrows. “Spicy, too.”

I scoff. “How can your family be so fucked up you’d read a gothic novel for catharsis?”

Cardan drums his fingers on his knee. “How much do you know about my family?”

“You’re old money. One of those alpha families that claims they’re pure alpha for generations.” Which is pretty much impossible, but everyone in that tier of society tells the same lie. Half the kids in my school claim to be pure alpha, and on paper both of their parents are alphas. But while alpha men and women can reproduce—they have the right gametes—it’s not easy. More likely omega egg donors, and, before that, omega surrogates who were well-paid. It’s no wonder they see us as breeders.

I start ticking off additional facts on my fingers. “Your great-grandfather was one of the great American magnates, but it was his alpha daughter, Mab Greenbriar, who really made something of his millions. Your dad was her only son, so he inherited the whole corporation. You have five older siblings: Balekin, Elowyn, Dain, Caelia, Rhyia—”

Cardan holds up both his hands. “Yeah, yeah. I get the point.”

“It’s all on Wikipedia.” I shrug, and to sound less like a weird stalker, I add, “And Vivi and Rhyia are like best friends.”

“You know, and I know you said it before, but I do forget Vivienne’s your sister. She’s so cool.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

I get it, though. He probably thinks Vivi’s cool because she’s an alpha, but she also gets points for being the family rebel. Her biological dad, Madoc, adopted us all after the car crash that killed our parents, but she never wanted to be the natural successor he hoped for. Now she plays rugby at an all-girls’ college, has three cartilage studs and a septum piercing, shaves half her head, and is defiantly, unapologetically queer. It’s a different path than I would take, but marching to the beat of your own drum is definitely something that appeals to people.

“By the way,” Cardan says, “it’s been a few minutes and I feel fine. Well, as fine as one can feel having eaten only one McMuffin. I don’t feel any worse.”

“Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Toss me the bag.”

The bag crinkles when he picks it up, then he looks inside. “I think I’m owed a poison taster’s fee.”

“Huh?”

Cardan takes my McMuffin out of the bag, takes a bite out of it, then drops it back in the bag, which he proceeds to lob at my head. I catch it, face wrinkling in disgust. “Ew!”

“What? I need the calories more.”

I shake the bag at him. “I am not eating this,” I huff.

“We split the water bottle. That didn’t kill you.” Cardan sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Besides, who knows when they’re going to decide to feed us again?”

“You’re all so gross,” I mutter as I open the bag and pull out my breakfast. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. I also hate that my hunger is enough to overcome my revulsion, at both the stolen bite and the undeniable fact that my McMuffin is now cold. I stuff it in my mouth, devouring the rest of it in only a few bites.

“Who’s gross?” he asks. “Alphas? Boys?”

“Alpha boys,” I inform him, with my mouth full.

“Big words from somebody whose designation’s known for leaking fluids everywhere.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “We’re not the only designation that leaks,” I point out. “We’re just the only one that gets shit for it. We’re the ones who’re thought of as gross while you and your type get to go around ruling the world.”

“Oh, sure. That has nothing to do with the way you guys are totally incapacitated for three straight days if you don’t take your drugs.”

“If we don’t get out of here, you’ll be just as screwed as I am,” I snap. “Stuck in a room with me? You won’t have a chance. We’re both going to become brainless fuck machines if that happens, so… shut the hell up.”

He does, to my surprise. I do too. I wipe my greasy hands on the McDonald’s bag, then crumple it into a little ball and toss it into the corner of the room. My anger is a living thing, running through my veins like electricity, vibrating under my skin. It’s been there for so long, but I would never have dared to say that to his face before. The rest of our situation is so absurd, so dire, it feels like there are no consequences for mouthing off at him.

That’s dumb, of course. There are always consequences. But at least they won’t be coming anytime soon.

“‘Brainless fuck machines,’” Cardan whispers quietly, and then he snickers.

“You—shut up,” I say, feeling unlikely mirth bubbling at the corners of my mouth. Cardan lets out another huff of laughter, and then I am giggling, and he’s laughing outright, clutching at his stomach. It’s ridiculous, all of my nerves coming out like that, but he’s laughing and it feels like there’s nothing for me to do but laugh too.

“Oh, man,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I’m serious!” I squeal, my abs cramping from laughing and trying not to laugh harder all at once. “That’s what happens!”

“God.” Cardan lets his head fall softly into the corner. “We are so screwed.” He points one finger up in the air. “Metaphorically. So far.”

“Jesus.” I cover my face with both of my hands. “Jesus.”

“Jesus was an alpha.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “He was not. He literally said ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega.’”

“I’m just fucking with you.” Cardan grins, his hair flopping in his face, but then his cheer vanishes abruptly. “Wait, you’re not actually religious, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” But I still know that common theology holds that Jesus—and angels, and any other holy beings I don’t know about—are not alphas or omegas, but they aren’t betas, either. They are all things and nothing. Must be a good life. I pull my hands down and squint at him. “Were you worried about offending me?”

“Me?” Cardan shakes his head to toss his hair out of his face. “Nah.”

“Well, good.” I cross my arms again. “Because you’ve never cared before, and it’d really freak me out if you started now. Then I’d know we were both losing it for real.”

“I just thought…” He shrugs. “I mean, it’d be nice if one of us believed in something. That praying could help. I’d like to believe that. Seems tidy.”

“Yeah.” I let my cheek fall against the cold wall, too, and blink away the memories of screaming at the night sky, demanding someone give me my parents back. I can’t fall into that pit. I will not.

I just say, “I stopped believing that anyone was listening a long time ago.”

Cardan scratches at the wall with his finger. “Me too, Duarte,” he said. “Me too.”

#jurdan #judecardan #jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jurdan fanfic #mine: fic #fic: 132 hours

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