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#these were obviously taken before she cut her hair for glitch :')
sjoongki · 3 years
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JEON YEO BIN FOR BYLYNNSHOP (2021)
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nanaminsonyfans · 4 years
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✨Birds of a Feather✨
Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules
Request; Could I request a YJs1 Dick x reader with the reader being new to the team and a protege of black canary? He’s my favourite 🥰
A/N; honestly, if one robin is AT LEAST one of your favorites, if they aren’t in the top three, i don’t trust you. also, i really like the way i wrote this a stuff, if anyone wants i can make this a thing. I fucking grew up on young justice i love these characters. rock and roll buckeroo!
Pairing; Dick Grayson(Robin) x Fem!Reader
Warnings; fluff, slight cursing
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Your upbringing wasn’t pleasant, for a short backstory, Black Canary found you when she did a raid on an illegal Meta-Human fighting ring. Your parents sold you to the leader of the ring. Your power was similar to Canary’s, in which your voice was a power. You could mimic sounds around you like a mockingbird, but you had similarities with an owl in the fact that your neck could turn all the way around and you had night vision. Black Canary found you when you were ten, taking you in as her own. She took you under her wing. *dad jokehehuheh*
She had taken care of you for four years, you ever really made you debut as a hero, until Batman started the underground team of sidekicks. Robin of course knew of you, as did Batman because, duh. Well, Roy did too but that was mainly because Green Arrow was dating Canary. He was like a big brother, and he deeply cared for you. 
“And this is Black Canary’s protégé, Mockingbird.” You walked out from the shadows, a black hoodie and red jeans on. Your hoodie had your favorite band one it, whatever it may be. “Sup.” You nod your head at the boys, your hood covered your face since it was dark but you also had glasses on, kinda like Robin’s but they were reading glasses. The glasses could profile anyone and bring up their history, if it’s in the web or files on the cloud, you gotem.
Kid Flash was easy, he didn’t both with covering his face, everyone else was open with you, but not Robin. You glasses always got glitched out when you tried to activate them while looking at him. He knew this and did it on purpose. He didn’t know much about you, only you hero name, you also did that on purpose, it was a fun little battle. You were closer to Robin anyways, being close in age but that didn’t stop Wally from flirting. “Hey babe~ Wanna spar~?” The redhead would ask, before you could speak he would go pale. “Nevermind.” Then he’d run away, you guessed it was Robin, he had mastered the infamous bat-glare.
When Artemis joined the team, you were happy. Another human girl on the team, no offense to M’gann but you felt more comfortable with another human female around. Plus, she was funny. You lived in Star City with Diane and Oliver, and you met her first, it was awesome when you came with her to the Cave and saw all of them shocked.
“What’s up, birdy?” You smile as you trotted over to Robin, you didn’t really have a superhero suit, you kinda took after Black Canary, civilian clothes were your hero clothes. It was usually blood stained black leggings, a navy blue crop top hoodie and black paint around your eyes and bridge of your nose rather than a regular mask because those were itchy. “Do NOT call me that.” Boy Wonder grumbled and elbowed you playfully. You gave him a smirk and batted you eyelashes at him. “You love me.” “No I don’t.” He snorted.
“The Wallman is here!” A redhead yelled through the zeta-tubes as he entered, the loud noise made you yelp and grab onto the nearest person, which was Robin. When you both realized that you both turned red. “Yeesh...stay whelmed Mockingbird.” He finally got out after being frozen. You both had completely ignored the situation going on around you, until...
“Recognize: Speedy, B06.” The computer spoke, making you grinning like an idiot and turn towards the tubes. “Well for starters, he doesn’t go by speedy anymore. Call me Red Arrow.” Your eyes lit up at your brother, well not really brother but you both looked at each other as such. “Roy-” Oliver started but you cut him off. “Roy!” You yelled happily and ran towards your redhead. “Wa to ruin his moment...” Wally grumbled but you flipped him off as you hugged Roy. “Why don’t you call anymore? I’ve been worried. So was Olly, and I guess Robin, Kaldur, and Wally, but I’m your sister!” You whined and teared up, your tears mixing with the paint you used as a mask causing black tears.
“Oh birdie...you know why.” Roy soothed causing you to sniffle and rub your tears away. “Right, sorry.” You mumble and pull away, “Sorry.” You mumbled again and walked back to your spot by Robin, the taller boy put a hand on your shoulder. “Roy, you look-” Oliver started, “Replaceable.” Roy hissed and walked over. “You know it’s not like that.” “Then why bother with a sub? Can she even use that bow?” He gestured angrily to the blonde archer. “Yes she can.” Artemis hissed back. “Who are you?!” Wally whined. “I’m his niece.” “She’s his niece.” “She’s my niece.” Artemis, you, and Green Arrow stated in a matter-of-fact like tone. “Another niece?” Robin snorted, earning an elbow from you.
“But he’s not your replacement!” You chimed in, walking over to the arrows. “We have always wanted you on the team.” Aqualad said, walking over to the now, Red Arrow. “And we have no quota on archers.” The leader continued. “And if we did, you know who we’d pick!” Wally chimed, glaring over at Artemis. “Whatever Baywatch,” Artemis glared, “I’m here to stay.” You stifled a chuckle and looked away. “Baywatch...” You snorted. “But you came here for a reason, right Roy?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “Yeah, a reason named Dr. Sterling Roquette.”
Both yours and Robin’s eyes widened before you both pulled up a file with the holographic computer. “Nano-robotics genius-” Robin started as he began typing. “And claytronics expert at Royal University in Star City! I love her!” You finished and gushed the last part. “Vanished two weeks ago.” Robin continued, earning a frown on your face. “Abducted two weeks ago, by the League of Shadows.” “Woah, you want us to rescue her from The Shadows?” Boy wonder said in a hopeful tone. “Hardcore.” Wally said in awe and fist bumped the other boy. “Dumbasses.” You scoffed and hit them both in the back of the neck. “Roy probably already did that.” You pointed out and walked over to him with a big smile. Roy smiled back and ruffled your hair. “She’s right, I already rescued her. There’s only one problem, the shadows already got her to make a weapon, ‘Doc call it the Fog.” Roy pulled up an image of a dark cylinder looking object with red buttons.
“It’s comprised of millions of microscopic robots, nanotech infiltrators, capable of disintegrating anything in their path- concrete, steel, flesh, bone.- but it’s true purpose isn’t mere destruction. It’s theft. The infiltrators eat and story raw data from any computer system and deliver the stolen data to the Shadows. Providing them access to weapons, strategic defense, cutting edge science and tech.” “Perfect for extortion, manipulation, and power broking.” Artemis starts, earning a groan from Wally, an admiring look from you, and a knowing look from Robin. “Yep. Sounds like The Shadows.” She finishes. “Oh like you know anything about The Shadows.” Wally groans and glares at the blonde, who just smirks. “Who ARE you?!” Wally yells obviously irritated, both you and Robin chuckled a little.
“Roquette’s working on a virus to render the Fog inert.” Roy says, ignoring the childish behavior. “But if The Shadows know she can do that...” Robin started quietly, you gasped softly. “They’ll target her.” You whisper in shock. “It’s okay, right now she’s off the grid. I stashed her in a local highschool computer lab.” Roy shrugs, opening his mouth to speak again. “You left her alone?” Green Arrow asks in shock and mild disappointment. ‘Oh great, here we go again.’ You think as you roll  you eyes. “She’s safe enough for now.” Roy spits and glares at Oliver. “Then let’s you and I take care of that together.” “You and I? Don’t you want to take your new protogé.” The redhead spits again, earning a groan from you. “Roy, you brought this to the team, we’ll talk care of it okay?” You say softly, putting your hand on his shoulder. “And she is part of the team. I promise nothing bad will happen. Trust me, big bro.” You smile, a child like glint in you e/c eyes. “Fine, Y/n. I trust you.” Roy whispered, kissing your forehead before leaving. “Speedy-” The computer started, “Change that to Red Arrow.” You spoke up before Roy could, you winked at him before he left.
Robin knew it was a platonic gesture, you both looked at each other like siblings, he knew that. He fucking knew but a piece of him was jealous. He didn’t know why, maybe he like you? No, he wouldn’t, doesn’t matter anyways. The team had a mission to do. But god damnit he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wished he could be the one kissing your forehead, holding you, knowing your actual name like Roy did. Damn, being a teenager with feelings fucking SUCKS. 
All of a sudden you all were linked up by Miss Martian telepathy. “Everyone online?” Her voice rung inside your head, causing a giggle. “Mhm.”  You hummed in your head while you sat on a table between Kid Flash and Robin. “Woah, this is weird.” Artemis said, in her head of course, and you just giggled in response. “I know right? Prepare for a killer headache when Megan cuts it off!” You giggled more as you popped some of Wally’s fruit snacks in your mouth. Then the doctor started complaining. “Lady, I’m not really diggin your attitude right now.” You say while rolling your eyes. “You literally look like some random kid they got from the street!” The doctor replied earning a huff from you as you sat up straight. 
“You literally look like some random kid they got from the street.” You said, using your mocking power, you spoke in her exact voice, earning a shocked look from her. “Now shut the fuck up.” You hissed in your normal voice, earning a stern look from Aqualad. “Oh don’t judge my language fish boy.” You grumbled and crossed your arms, looking through a blind. “Do you always act like this when people try to help you?” Wally’s voice rung in your head. “Pot, kettle, you’ve met?” Artemis replied, you snickered slightly. “Great, now I want kettle corn. Thanks Art.” You whined and then ignored them arguing until Robin spoke. “You should give her some more credit. It was /her/ arrow that saved you from Amazo.” Robin said with a smirk, in which you practically swooned. “No, it was Spee-Red Arrow’s arrow, right?” “Not so much.” Robin snickered and you did as well. 
“God I love his voice.” You thought and then you realized that everyone was connected, SHIT. Your eyes widened and your face turned red. “I mean haha, I was thinking of something else.” You got up.��“I’ll...I’ll go an patrol the halls...hall monitor duties.” You got up. “Oh god oh god. This is so embarrassing.” You though as you messed with your fingerless gloves. “Should we tell her?” Wally’s voice rang in your head, you could feel him smirking. “THEN DON’T LISTEN!” You screamed from the hallway and you could hear his laughs. Everyone basically knew you had a crush on Robin, it was obvious to everyone but him. He felt the same, it was also obvious to everyone but you. This was not the TIME.
You were walking down the hall, until you heard footsteps behind you. You turned around, punching the figure and wrapping you legs around the person’s waist as you pinned them down. “Woah woah, stay whelmed, Mockingbird.” You squeezes you legs tighter when you realized it was Robin. “What do you want?” You whisper-shouted. “You seemed to be distraught. You really should get traught.” He gave you a smirk that you always melted over. “Mind not squeezing me to death?” He asked and you flushed as you let him go from you thighs crushing him. 
“Your wordplay is so stupid...” You smiled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So what? You said you love my voice.” Robin teased. “I do.” You sighed and then covered your mouth in shock. “I-I mean...shut up!” Robin bit his lip and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to head out with Superboy.” He mumbled in which you sighed and grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “Be safe okay?” You whisper softly, getting closer to him. His lips were inches away from your. Robin smiled and kissed your forehead. “I’ll try.” He smiled in which you turned so red you were sure you would’ve been glowing. “It’s Y/n...Y/n L/n.” You spoke up as he started to walk away. “That’s my name.” You mumble. He turned around, wide eyed. 
“Y/n L/n eh? That’s a pretty name.” Robin teased before running off.
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s-c-r-i-p-s-i · 3 years
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Candy is Dandy but Liquor is Quicker
[Dead by Baelight’s Kinktober // Day 8 and 18 : Outfit/Skin, Cornered]
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🖤  🖤   🖤 “Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence. “Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair. “Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.” 🖤  🖤   🖤 Pairing: Deathslinger (Caleb Quinn) x F! Reader
Rating: Explicit
CW: non-con/dub-con, bondage, drinking, smut, canon-typical violence
Word Count: 4,927
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Something… odd had been happening lately.
Not the cankerous growths and sickly orange flowers that were always so abundant this time of year - or whatever passed for a year in this everlasting hell. By no means was that unprecedented.
Ask anyone who’d been there long enough to know and they’d tell you; there was a certain… cyclicity to things. Recurring phenomenon - the red envelopes, the flowers, the mysterious gifts wrapped up like Christmas presents. Always sequential, always in order, like some crude imitation of seasons. (And for what? No one ever aged a day.)
No, this was something new.
And new, in the Entity’s realm, was never a good thing. But… You had to admit, this seemed mostly harmless.
Look - It’s not like you were ever really in control of what you wore here, anyway. Most of the time, you were just stuck with whatever clothes you were wearing when you rolled into the fog. Sometimes She (that omnipotent thing in the sky) threw you in something else. Nobody ever really paid it much mind. The Entity worked in mysterious ways. And people, frankly, had more important shit to worry about.
But then when the flowers started blooming this year, things got a little weird.
She -…
She started putting people in costumes.
Cheap polyester numbers, mostly - the kind you’d buy from a big-box store, straight from one of those awful clear vinyl bags.
…It was starting to look a lot like Halloween. Jack-o’-lanterns even began appearing, scattered around the campfire and adorning the generators.
And nobody knew what the fuck was going on. Hell, not everyone even knew what Halloween was. You had quite the diverse cast; some people weren’t even from the same world as you.
The general vibe around the campfire was just… mild amusement if anything. You had a chuckle, then moved on. That was just the way of things. Everyone had these… survivor blinders on. You guess it was hard to get phased by something so minor when you all got murdered on the daily, but…
But you weren’t content with that.
You always had trouble just accepting things at face value. You wanted to know why.
Like - was the Entity stroking out? Things always did get a little strange around this time. Almost as if She were sick.
It was rare, but there were these little… Well, Feng called them glitches, and it was apt a term as any. Just little things, here and there, like She couldn’t quite enforce the rules of her own game.
Almost everything in this world seemed to be harvested from people’s memories. So… Maybe she was starting to pull things at random. Spiraling.
Was this the synaptic failure of a dying god?
Probably not, but there was nothing to do besides let your mind wander, and it was the only theory you had.
And then….
Then She whisked you away to Frontierland in the gaudiest slutty sheriff costume known to man and pit you against the goddamn cowboy.
Yeah, no - that was about a step too far to have been a happy accident.
Maybe you were thinking too hard. Maybe She just had a fucked up sense of humor.
When the fog cleared, you found yourself in the saloon with the others. You half-heartedly laughed it off (“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Very funny.”) and then moved on. Business as usual.
But not before rolling your eyes and discreetly downing one of the liquor minis from the shitty novelty booze bandolier sewn to your costume behind everyone’s backs.
At least She had the decency to stock it.
You were finishing up cleansing a totem when you heard the telltale crack of a gunshot split the air from all the way across the map. Not anywhere close enough to be dangerous, but a dead giveaway as to who you were up against.
…And cold hard proof that your little outfit was far from coincidence. The literal and proverbial smoking gun.
The moment you heard it you deflated, head falling back.
Seriously? What the fuck was She playing at?
Why you?
It wasn’t much of a conscious decision; you found yourself plucking another bottle from your bandolier and knocking it back without a whole lot of thought. You were obviously going to need it. Staring blankly ahead, you incredulously shook your head as you thumbed the moisture from your lip.
Okay. Alright. That was it, for now, you decided.
The Entity gave you a fully loaded bandolier - seriously, you were armed to the teeth with the little mini bottles, to the point it was actually kind of heavy. But you already felt a little weak in the knees after just two shots. It had been a while, so your tolerance was understandably nil. You didn’t want to be useless to your team. More importantly, it now felt critical you get out of there without running into the killer.
The Deathslinger was one of those ones. Not overly talkative, like a couple of the killers were, but he definitely got a kick out of the whole thing. There was a stark difference between the two camps, so to speak - the ones who only seemed like they killed because they had to, and the ones who were completely in their element. And he was obviously one of the latter.
It was that goddamn laugh. Low and sultry. Chuckling whenever he hooked someone or when a survivor did something exceptionally dumb. Even when you weren’t the target of it, you’d come to associate it with pure humiliation.
And you just knew that he’d take one look at you, in your stupid sheriff costume, and… Oh. You were steaming mad only thinking about it.
So you made it your personal mission to avoid him this trial. And to do that, you had to actually get out. Which meant no more drinks for you!
You should have known She had other plans.
You did your best to keep a low profile, tried to make sure you were on the opposite side of the map from him at all times, while still being useful. A difficult balancing act.
But you couldn’t just leave your friends hanging.
When you saw Meg’s aura flare out in distress as she was lowered onto the hook, you began making your way over, quick and quiet and praying to every god you knew that he would be long gone by the time you got there.
And, lucky you, there was no sight of him. So you crept towards the hook, privately taking solace that at least you weren’t alone in the goof factor; Meg was all dressed up like Wendy - the fast-food icon. The Entity really outdid herself, the braids were right on the nose, and you were almost loosey-goosey enough to make some stupid quip. Almost. Maybe when she wasn’t dangling from a meat hook.
You pulled her off the hook with care, but just as her feet touched the ground, another gunshot rang out, this time much louder. A spear whizzed by so close that you could hear it shear through the air just before it embedded itself in the post, inches away from you both. No sooner had you whipped your head around to find the source than the sound of shoes pounding against the ground filled your ringing ears.
You looked back and Meg was gone. Peeled off like a bandaid.
You decided you better get the hell out of Dodge too.
First things first, you needed to get out of the open; that was just asking to get shot. So you made a mad dash for the saloon. You figured you had a good head start since it should have taken him a hot minute to retrieve the harpoon, dislodge it from the hook, shove it back in the gun… Sounded like a whole ass process.
Except, when you looked back behind you he was hot on your tail. Trail. Hot on your trail.
You made a snap judgment, deciding you’d try and lose him by running up to the second story. Was it cheap? Absolutely. He obviously had some kind of bum leg, unless that brace was some kind of bold fashion statement. Not that it had ever slowed him down, any. But you were desperate. And all’s fair in love and war, right?
Swiftly turning the corner, you galloped up the stairs and dove into the first room you saw, hopping through the window.
By the time your eyes adjusted to the indoors and you realized it was a dead-end, it was too late. The only other exit was boarded up, and you could hear his boots unhurriedly thumping up the creaky steps like he was in no rush at all. Step. Step. You rushed to the boarded-up door and gave it a good open-palmed slam to test its strength - you’d seen killers smash through these like they were cardboard, but it just wouldn’t budge. Shit.
He was getting closer. You could hear his spurs. Hissing, you banged your fist against the boards in frustration. What, impending injury wasn’t bad enough? She had to add insult, too?
The footsteps stopped, and so did everything else, it felt like. Holding your breath, you slowly began to turn around. There he was in the window, backlit and silhouette, dusty sunlight filtering through his ghostly white hair. You had to admit, he cut a striking figure, something cinematic. There was just the trouble of the gun. Aimed right at you.
Didn’t have to climb over the window if he just reeled you to him. Smart man.
Before you could think to dive for cover or something smart like that, he began lowering the gun. It was hard to tell what expression he was wearing, backlit as he was, but you could feel those spectral eyes looking you up and down. From your cheap western style boot covers, all the way up your legs to your fluffy petticoat and layered skirts, the ill-fitted booze bandolier slung around your shoulder… and finally, the gold, plastic 5 point sheriff star nestled between your tits.
Oh God. Here it comes…
He didn’t even have to say a word, hot embarrassment already surging to the surface before he even opened his mouth.
“Well. Pardon me.” You could make out the glint of dirty teeth in the dark as his grin spread. “Didn’t know you were an elected official.”
Why the hell was he exempt from this bullshit, anyway? You’d seen Ghostface in a devil costume, and Myers in a cat ear headband, so you knew they weren’t immune. Maybe the Entity thought he looked stupid and campy enough as is. But… she couldn’t have dressed him up as Woody from Toy Story or something? He probably wouldn’t have gotten it, but you would have found it funny. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so small and humiliated.
You hated this. You didn’t even know what to say until he started climbing over the window. Then you had a pretty clear idea.
“Don’t come any closer,” you warned shakily, backing up against the boarded-up door as he stalked forward, every step radiating confidence.
“Or you’ll what?” He asked, leaning in. “Arrest me?” Playfully rattling the costume handcuffs on your belt, he set his gun against the door. You stared up at him, eyes wide as saucers, and he just snorted, curling a finger in your hair.
“Darlin’…” Tilting his head, his fingers traveled lower, slowly ghosting over your neck, your collarbone…. You inhaled sharply in frightened anticipation, goosebumps rising, only for him to skim over your chest entirely, plucking one of the mini bottles from your bandolier. “I would love…” Long, bony, but strangely elegant fingers unscrewed the cap, flicking it off where it clattered across the floor somewhere. “To see you try.”
And on that note, he finally tipped it back - you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed it down. Shaking the empty bottle at you, he slipped it back into its holster on your belt. “Bit frivolous, you know.” He commented, curling his finger in and snapping it back. “A flask does just fine. No need to reinvent the wheel.”
“Right, well,” you huffed, and moved to squeeze past him - he was clearly in good humor, at least, so maybe he’d let you off easy. Wasn’t a little whiskey and a laugh good enough?
Apparently not.
You were immediately met with an arm shooting out, hand landing right beside your head, caging you in.
“Woah there, where d’ya think you’re going, sweetheart?” He smirked down at you, a crooked thing that flashed his teeth, scarred lip snagged over a canine. You’d never noticed before, but one of his incisors had a gold crown. Now that you’d noticed, you couldn’t stop looking at it, the alcohol still floating around in your bloodstream turning you into some sort of easily distracted magpie. He was missing one of his bottom teeth, too. It was… kind of a mess in there, huh? Smelled like whiskey and tobacco.
“You got me all the way up here, I’m not too keen on leaving already.” Sliding his hand from the door, he guided you away by the small of your waist, and you… you just kind of let him, stiltedly trying to follow his direction.
“So how about you…” You reached the bed and he grabbed you by your shoulders, turning you round to face him. “Just sit your pretty ass down.” Just a slight push and you were bouncing on the bedsprings, palms catching your fall.
In the back of your mind you were already fearing the worst, but much to your surprise he just sat down next to you on the edge of the mattress, looking almost comically large and out of place on the twin-size bed. All you could do was blink at him dumbly, unsure what was happening.
He took a long breath through his nose. It felt like forever before he finally released it and said, “Have a drink with me.”
“I…” You drew out the word dubiously, clearly meaning to decline. You were already too tipsy for comfort considering present company was a killer.
“Didn’t ask,” He said gruffly, pulling two bottles from your bandolier and offering you one. “Indulge an old man. Or we’ll do it the hard way.”
Hard to argue with that! You didn’t know what the hard way was, but you didn’t want to find out. So you took the bottle, lips pulling together in a tight, awkward half-smile when he clinked his against yours.
This was weird. Awkward, and in a whole different way than you’d been preparing yourself for.
You actually found yourself glad for the burn that flooded your body as you downed the shot, heat loosening your tense limbs and taking the edge off this… incredibly odd situation, if only slightly.
Besides the obvious threat, it felt like maybe, despite everything… he was really just a lonely old man. In want of someone to drink with. A slice of normality. Isn’t that what you all wanted? You guessed it couldn’t hurt. It was keeping him away from the generators, anyway. Buying you all some extra time.
And… maybe this was what the Entity wanted. The reason she brought you here like this.
“Now, miss,” He spoke, and you turned your gaze up to him, blinking owlishly, your head swimming. There was a lot to take in at this distance. All these different textures. Scars and stubble and pockmarks. You found it all fascinating. “I’ve got to be frank with you.”
You know, you hadn’t really heard him speak at length before, but you were starting to realize that his whole aesthetic, he didn’t really sound straight out of a spaghetti western like you might expect. There was a trace of that, especially in his vocabulary, but his accent was much more reminiscent of… Canada, somehow. With a slightly Irish lilt.
It was ludicrously unexpected, and something about it just made a dopey smile float onto your face. You didn’t even realize you were doing it, until his eyes drifted down, and he huffed with almost fond incredulity.
“Think that’s funny, huh?”
You’re almost positive you missed something he said. You heard it, you just didn’t… process it right. This time when he spoke, you tried to pay attention.
“I don’t usually go taking what ain’t mine, but damn if you don’t look like a present addressed just to me.”
It was your turn to huff, bobbing with amusement. “Okay, cowboy, I know what it looks like, but…” It wasn’t like you chose this outfit.
“Honey,” he interrupted, “I think you’ve mistaken me for the wrong kinda wrangler. It’s not cows I’m after.” He paused, tipping his head as if reconsidering, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if a heifer’s in need of a good driving…”
It took you a solid minute for your brain to catch up. He was content to watch the cogs turn until it did.
He just called you a cow!
A cow in need of a good dicking!
Your mouth hung open in shock and he - he just laughed.
“Little slow on the uptake, aren’t cha? Had a few already? How bout one more?” His hand began trailing up your leg, dirty fingers slowly dipping beneath your pure white petticoat.
Suddenly, one thing was very clear.
You had to get out of here.
Shaking your head, you tried to stand, but you were swiftly reeled back as soon as your feet hit the ground, pulled into a hard lap, all bones and brace and knobby knees and God knows what else.
“We’re gonna have one more,” his voice materialized right beside your ear, tone final as he pulled another mini from your belt. You shook your head, whimpering some protest between tightly closed lips as he pressed the bottle to your mouth. Behind you, you heard him sigh through his nose like a beleaguered bull. Then his other hand came round your face, pinching your nose shut.
You didn’t wait around for your lungs to give out. There wasn’t any point in that. You knew he wasn’t going to give in. But you did. Almost immediately. Your lips parted for air and got tequila instead, swallowing sloppily as you tried not to choke, rivulets of amber dripping down your chin while he murmured, “There you go… Nice and easy…”
His hand lowered to your throat to tip your head back, your world spinning as a wet sensation dragged across your chin, the man licking up the tequila in one broad and obscene lick. That rotten chuckle inundated your senses. “Awful cute when ya can’t even keep your eyes straight.” He tapped his fingers along the column of your throat, adding in afterthought. “Awful cute anyway, but I’m not really in the mood to fight just for a little company tonight. You gonna be good for me now, darling?”
“…Uh-huh.” You nearly sobbed out the sound, voice meek and pathetic. But you’d be lying if you weren’t starting to feel… sweaty under your skirts, inner thighs getting embarrassingly slick. That always happened when you were drunk, but never this bad.
And despite all the awfulness churning in your stomach, you still felt heat pool in your gut as he cooed, “Good girl. Not at dumb as you look, are you?”
You didn’t even realize he was actually expecting an answer until he probed again, “Are you?”
You quickly shook your head.
Humming, he seemed to accept that, because he was soon re-adjusting you on his lap and catching your lips with his in a messy kiss. He tasted strong and dry, your tongue prickling like your taste buds were trying to retract at the mere slide of his against yours; like salt on a slug. When his hand crept up your skirt this time, you didn’t try to stop him, even as his middle finger began tracing your sopping panties, dipping into the wet seam. You could scarcely think, devolved into a gooey pile of nerves and feelings that he was amusedly plucking at.
Peeling your panties aside, his fingers parted your folds, a pleased rumble emanating in his throat and vibrating in your mouth when his thumb brushed against your clit and your hips twitched in response.
You were gasping for breath by the time he finally pulled his mouth away, but he gave you no time to recover, already pressing two fingers past your resistance. In some attempt to ground yourself, you grasped at his arm as they began curling and pumping inside you, but your weak, drunk grip made it about as easy as catching clouds.
At some point, your barely-there vision drifted towards the window and you dimly realized you were facing it, completely exposed. That if anyone came up the stairs, they’d be able to see everything.
You’d just have to hope his heartbeat would be enough to keep them far away from the saloon. Eyes fluttering to the ceiling, you pushed the thought from your mind. It wasn’t hard. Not when the feeling in your stomach was reaching a fever pitch, nearing the point of no return.
In some ways, he was a lot gentler than you were expecting. Which was good, because you felt hopelessly vulnerable right now, helpless and disorientated in his lap, his looming over you making your mixed up brain feel protected even though some part of you knew that wasn’t right.
Everything felt numb except where he touched you; the heat of his breath on your neck, the kisses he pressed to your skin, the scrape of his beard, the brush of his long hair against your shoulder. All your wires were crossed, every little sensation going straight to your core.
Gasping out as your climax crashed over you, your hips lurched, thighs trying to snap closed around his hand. Unbothered, he just kept stroking you through it until your hips finally began to sink back down and your cunt stopped desperately trying to milk his fingers. Withdrawing slowly, he pressed them into your open mouth, the tang of your own juices spreading across your tongue. You didn’t know what it said about you that your blind instinct was to obediently suck, but that’s what you did, and he breathed out in a low, steady hiss.
“Careful, now. Fool me too good and I might have to keep you.”
Pulling away, he encouraged you to lay on the bed, settling between your legs. You watched the ceiling drift then snap back to place every time you blinked while he fiddled with something - you weren’t sure what until he was fixing your arms above your head and the apparently not-so-novelty handcuffs from your costume were being snapped around your wrists.
Then his hands were skating over you appreciatively, over your ribcage, the curvature of your waist almost reverently. “Guess the good Lord finally answered my prayers.” He murmured, flicking the plastic sheriff star between your bosom. “Not really how I woulda done it, but beggars can’t be choosers, eh? After all…” The man sighed, fingers curling into the top of your blouse and slowly dragging the gingham fabric down over your breasts until they were revealed to his eerie, quietly covetous eyes. “We don’t exactly have all the time in the world, do we?”
What was that even supposed to mean? It seemed to you as if you had nothing but time. Maybe not in this particular trial - and as if to punctuate that thought, you felt a generator kick to life, the familiar thrum of hope in your bones.
Did he know something you didn’t? Or were you just too foxed to follow?
Exhaling, he rolled his hands over your breasts, admiring the feel of them for just a moment. It seemed like he wanted to take his time with you, but the reminder that you were on a timer was the spur in his side that eventually pushed him to move on.
You heard him audibly fiddling with his belts and wondered if you were getting out of this alive. It was cold comfort, but at least you’d probably managed to save everyone else. Not very heroic when it wasn’t even really your decision. But it was something. Maybe. Something to cling to as you felt the heat of him slide across the mess he’d made of you.
Whimpering, you curled inwards from your core as he entered you, bound hands lifting up and both grasping at his chest at the feeling of being run through. By no means was it violent. It didn’t hurt, exactly. But it had been a long time, and he was unforgivingly long and solid and foreign. An intrusion on your body.
“That’s it. There you go, gorgeous. Hang onto me.”
You did, your hands abandoning his chest to loop over his neck, accidentally knocking the hat off his head in your bound fumbling. He didn’t seem to care, swooping down to take your lips again while you struggled to get used to the feeling of him moving inside you.
With how wet you already were, it didn’t take all that long before pleasure started to win out, every little bump and grind against your sweet spot pulling you closer to the edge again, his mouth muffling the pathetic stream of sounds trying to escape yours.
This time, the fall from the top was a slow one, liquid heat spilling out across your core - though you weren’t quite aware how literally until you felt it physically starting to pool beneath you, a wave of embarrassment flaring when you’d realized what just happened. Okay - you didn’t - that had never happened before, drunk or not.
Your hopes that he didn’t notice were dashed as he pulled away to chuckle heatedly in your ear. He wasn’t far behind though, laughter broken by a groan as his hips snapped against yours, burying himself deep as he could go. You felt the alien jerk of his cock inside you, radiating warmth.
Panting, he nuzzled at your neck as he came down, whiskers scratching at your skin. You felt… suspended in place, not sure what came next. But you guessed it wasn’t up to you. Hesitantly, you let your fingers slip into his sweaty white tresses, the texture thick and rough like the mane of a horse, dusty and… probably unwashed for God knows how long.
There was that awkward feeling again. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit no matter how you turned them, but you weren’t allowed to leave.
Eventually, he took a deep, centering breath and withdrew from you, guiding your hands back to the bed and clicking open the safety release of the handcuffs, setting you free and letting them fall wherever on the floor.
Rubbing your wrists, you groaned in discomfort as he dragged his fingers through the mess, pushing his cum back inside you. No. You just wanted to be done.
But then he pulled your panties back into place. Pulled your shirt back up. Smoothed your skirts down.
His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he heaved a big sigh and finally dismounted.
Pulling you up by your arm so that you were sitting up, he grabbed his hat from the bed, and you felt him plop it onto your head and adjust it.
“Suits ya.” He said softly, and it was the first thing he’d said in a while. Part of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop, not sure if he wanted a thank you, or…
He eyed you for another long moment, like there was something more he wanted to say, but… Instead, his gaze flicked down to the bandolier round your chest.
You swallowed hard as he plucked the last two bottles from your belt, the thought of taking another shot making your stomach churn and your gag reflex curl.
Patting your thigh, he bonelessly plopped himself in the nearby chair, rolling his eyes as you just stared at him. “Go on, get.” He snorted, uncapping one of the little bottles. “Don’t fall down the stairs on your way out.”
He was letting you go? Just like that?
You hesitated, something about this seemed… unfinished. You weren’t sure if you wanted to go.
But you didn’t want to wait around until he changed his mind, either.
So you uncertainly began heading towards the window, pausing when you remembered - “Your hat…” You reached for it, intending to give it back, but…
“Keep it, I don’t care.” That sounded unexpectedly crabby, and when you looked back, he wasn’t looking at you. He was staring at the wall, avoiding your gaze as he tipped back a shot. “Wear it if you want to see me again. Don’t if ya don’t. I can take a hint.”
You blinked, unable to believe he was sulking. Now. After everything.
Your fingers hovered over the brim of the hat. You needed to quash this now, while you still had the chance. Your conscience was screaming at you, leave it, don’t encourage him, don’t even give him hope.
Don’t bring it to the campfire. Don’t anything. Just… leave it on the windowsill, you told yourself. It shouldn’t have even required thought. Nothing about this was okay.
You didn’t even know his goddamn name.
And yet… You found your hand slowly lowering, falling back down to your side. You gave him one last, long look before grabbing the windowsill.
You could always decide later.
🖤  🖤 🖤
Thank you for reading!!!
🖤  🖤 🖤  
Notes:
Thank you Pugge for beta'ing most of this!
I do not know WHY this took me so long to write but I’m fairly happy with it. Sorta wasn’t the direction I originally had planned for this, but what can I say, I’m cursed. I got the Midas touch, except instead of gold, everything I touch turns to non-con.
This piece was written for Day 8 and 18 of the 🔞 Dead by Baelight 🔞 Discord server’s Kinktober. Anyone over 18 is welcome to join here.
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ryik-the-writer · 4 years
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Chapter 28: The Missing Pan
A03
          Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy
·         Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)
·         Chapter 3: Day One
·         Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies
·         Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars
·         Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress
·         Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!
·         Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down
·         Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil
·         Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake
·         Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1
·         Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2
·         Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground
·         Chapter 14. Recovery
·         Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more
·         Chapter 15: Trapped
        Chapter 16: Filth
        Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1
        Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2
        Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3
        Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2
        Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3
        Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1
        Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2
        Chapter 24: Closing
        Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan
        Chapter 26: Temporary Fix
        Chapter 27: The Search Begins
It was like a bizarre book club meeting, except there was no book and the meeting was held at Tink’s forest of a living room.
He had found Pan’s broken cellphone nearly three days ago, and hadn’t seen hide or hair of him since.
He was worried, especially as he saw less and less of Wendy roaming the town looking for him.
No, he wasn’t stalking her that would be creepy. He was just watching her from afar, usually behind buildings, in case Pan reappeared by her side.
He was worried about the little shit, even if he’d rather not think about him and what they were—or rather what they had been.
Their relationship was on Pan’s terms, as it had been the night August returned to Storybrooke two years ago.
It had been just a glitch on their timeline, a moment in history that would go unrecorded.
He had returned to Storybrooke after the money he pawned from several of his father’s tools ran out.
He was tired and sore, not sure whether he was back to ask for forgiveness or to take more from his loving father. His motorcycle was nearly out of gas, his tires shreds of rubber attached to rims.
He hadn’t realized the clusterfuck he’d road in on. That Storybrooke was practically on lockdown after Jekyll killed those two girls—and nearly a third, he’d find out later.
And—for his own sanity—Pan was waiting at the town line for the psychopath to return, with the blunt end of his camera at that.
As his head was spinning from being clabbered over the head from the hit, Pan had kicked him onto his back.
“Shit,” he had said. “You’re not him.”
“Lucky for me,” August deadpanned, wobbling as he picked himself up. “Want to explain why the hell you did that?”
“Monster hunting,” Pan had stated, staring at him suspiciously, offering him no assistance.
It was close to 3 a.m., a completely unreasonable hour for anyone to be running around—travelers or off-their-knocker journalists.
“Yeah,” August muttered, grabbing his bike and preparing to head into the town.
“Everything’s closed,” Pan said. “You’re better off sleeping in the woods.”
It was none of the little shit’s business. In fact it was probably best if he kept his entire being to himself. For he knew his father had taken out a report to the police.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Thanks for not giving me a concussion.”
“You might as well come back with me.”
The weight of those words still clung to August’s brain this very day.
That brutal, flirtatious, broken boy…
“What’s this about?
August looked up. Tink, Felix and Lily Tigress were surrounding him, trying to figure as much as he was what the hell was going on.
August stood, feeling the mix of emotions from the people in the room.
“Pan’s missing.” He said, simply.
The reactions that followed fit everyone perfectly.
Tinkerbell scoffed and rolled her eyes while Felix seemed to melt with fear. Tigress snorted.
“Have you checked all the holes in the city?” she teased.
“And ditches,” he replied humorlessly. “He’s not anywhere.”
“Maybe check in the depths of hell.” Tink muttered, flopping down on her couch.
“What happened,” Felix inquired, obviously the only other person in the room that had general concern.
“I have no idea,” August sighed.
“It’s probably nothing!” Tink exclaimed, visibly aggravated. “He’s always pulling shit like this, we all know it!” she looked around at everyone, their eyes dropping .
“I don’t know this time—” August began before Tink cut him off.
“He’s fine! He’s off screwing someone or ruining a life. He’ll come back and continue as normal.”
August blinked hard and reached into his pocket. In a flash he threw Pan’s broken, dead cellphone onto Tink’s coffee table, an inch away from Tigress’s boots.
The occupants of the room stared at the device like it was something that had just fallen from the sky, as if they had no idea what to make of it.
“I found this the other night at the docks,” August explained, swallowing a lump. “I’ve been looking for him ever since. It died a few hours after I found it.”
Felix gripped his kneecaps until his fingers turned white. Tigress glanced at him and then at Tink’s still shoulders, wishing she could reach into her back and unknot every single one of her muscles.
“It could be an accident,” Tink said, her mind numb.
“There’s something wrong here, Tink,” August said. “Something I don’t think we’ve dealt with before.”
Tink nodded slightly. She could accept that this was a bit odd, but she wasn’t ready to relent to a search just yet.
“Did you go through the phone, see who he called last?” Felix inquired.
A cold sweat ran down August’s back.
“Yeah…it…it was me,” he looked straight ahead, trying to avoid Tink’s direct gaze. “The night he wrote that story about you.”
Tink barely moved, the only indication that she heard August was the darkening of her pupils.
“Last time I saw him was the morning after that when Wendy showed up and…all the other stuff happened.”
“Have you talked to her?” Tigress asked. “Why isn’t she here?”
August thought about the blonde enigma who spent the better part of two days searching for the wild boy…
And then she stopped…
Not from falling into a fate like Pan’s, but rather a strange dark haired man seemed to be gypsying her away from her task.
Maybe she had the same mindset as Tink, that Pan was somewhere safe and sound but avoiding the rest of the world.
Or perhaps she’d finally realized she deserved to use her time the way she wanted and not focus so much on Pan.
When he’d see her in town, her gaze would occasionally stray to the streets and into shops, looking for him without trying.
But she wasn’t alone. There was someone else with her, some dark entity that always seemed to be just out of both their line of site.
“She’s looking for him,” August concluded.
“Have you gone to Graham?”
“No, not yet,” he admitted.
Tink smiled bitterly. “There’s your answer,”
August leaned forward. “Do you really think Graham is going to take this seriously with Pan’s track record?”
“That’s the best thing to do!” Tink yelled. “He’s not our problem.”
“Yeah, he is,”
“No he’s fucking not! We have nothing to do with any of this!”
“Yeah we do!”
“He’s your little fuck buddy not mine!”
A wave of sand coursed through August’s throat, cutting him off.
“Okay, that’s enough!” Felix finally jumped in, evenly meeting Tink’s glare. “He’s right, we have to help.”
“Are you kidding me, Felix!” Tink exploded.
“What he did was terrible,” Felix injected, putting everything everyone in the room had held in for days now. “But if you turn your back on him and something really is wrong, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Because he is family, Tink. He’s one of us.”
He stepped forward, keeping his distance after taking her stiff posture into account.
“And you know he didn’t do any of this to hurt you, even if he did,”
Tink scoffed. “I know that. But I’m so sick of him thinking rules don’t apply to him and that he’s invincible,” she paced a bit, thinking about the wild-haired boy to always brought so much chaos into their lives. Who was more trouble than any of them knew what to do with.
“What if he’d been alone that night?” She wondered aloud, knowing firsthand the type of cruelty Mother Superior could enact when pushed too far.
Pan was in trouble, and this time it was more serious than ever of them had ever seen before.
He was usually good at getting himself out of messes and suffering the consequences on his own. But things were different this time. This time he was somewhere none of them could find.
Tink groaned, tucking her anger away for later.
“When was the last day you talked to Wendy?” she sighed in August’s direction.
His lip twitched in gratification. “The day she told me Pan was missing.”
“Then Lily and I will check with her first.” Tink said, voice strong with leadership. “You and Felix check the paper and Graham and all his usual haunts.”
Before Felix could ask for more, Tink was out the door.
Lily gave the men a shrug before following her friend, not looking to cause a fight with the fiery blonde.
Felix sighed in relief when they finally left, trying his best to stay calm. Last thing he needed was to fall into a seizure.
“That takes care of that,” August teased. “You ready?”
Felix looked over at him, frowning heavily. He had no feeling for August, good or bad. The two didn’t see or speak to each other than the few times he left Pan’s place.
He wasn’t a bad person from what Felix could gather, but he wasn’t the best influence on Pan. He was too casual, not interested in settling down.
Adding gasoline to the fire of Pan’s soul.
Still, obviously he cared about him enough that he cared if he was missing or not, so some points were warranted.
“We’ll need to start with Graham first,”
“Why’s that?”
Felix frowned. “I might know the reason he’s missing.”
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Pan wasn’t sure where to target his latest wave of sickness from.
The swaying ship, the dehydration, or the infection building around his numb wrists from the metal cuffs?
He was more than certain he was developing some kind of bladder infection as well.
God he was tired.
Jones hadn’t been to see him in a day and a half, or at least that’s what he was estimating judging by the light that was coming in thorough the cracks of the ship.
He wondered what he was doing, especially to Wendy. Had he hurt her? Was he torturing her right now to get information out of her?
What did this asshole hope to accomplish keeping him locked up? Why didn’t he just off him already?
Or maybe this was it. Maybe he just wanted to kill him slowly.
As he nodded in and out of consciousness, he caught images of the people in his life. Wendy and Felix up front, Tink, August, and Tigress just behind them. Even Glass and Gold, and deeper in the shadows, Belle.
Each time he woke up, they would vanish, and Pan wouldn’t remember who he was dreaming about.
The smell of salt was enough to make him vomit now. He was dying, and he was doing so cruelly slow.
Would any of the people he kept seeing in that place between sleep and awake ever know what had happened to him.
Was anyone looking for him?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The last few days had become sort of a new routine for Wendy. She’d leave her apartment at the crack of dawn and visit Pan’s apartment…knocking just in case he’d come home.
But he hadn’t, and she’d let herself in and feed his fuzzy orange cat who had yet to be utterly concern about his master’s disappearance.
It was comforting feeding the large cat without Pan’s interference, she thought. No one to pick fun at her at every opportunity. No one to push her into a corner, away from her safest places.
No one to pick fun at her at every opportunity. No one to push her into a corner, away from her safest places.
It was unsettling, Pan’s absence. But there was an odd peace in the air. One that didn’t quite fit in Storybrooke’s atmosphere, but one that was welcome. If only for a short time.
Each day without the wild boy was like a blurry vacation: you knew each day was passing by but the details were unclear.
And somehow Pan was blurring from her memory as well.
She’d wake up in the dead of night with a glimpse of him in the air above her head.
Then he’d disappear, and she’d fall asleep without concern.
It felt wrong, to brush him off after all they’d been through, even in her sleep.
But there was an odd freedom to letting him go, especially if he didn’t want to be found.
She stared at the number on her cell phone glaring back at her, the one she’d called constantly in the last four days.
He doesn’t want to be found, she reminded herself. Calling him again would be fruitless.
She knew this, it was imbedded in her brain at this point.
Yet she pressed his number again and listened as his voice mail immediately came up.
It’s Pan. Call me back.
No, she decided solemnly, she wouldn’t.
“Hi, Pan…it’s…it’s me again.” Wendy chuckled. “I guess you know that by now…”
She paused, knowing if she were quiet for too long she’d have to start over.
She didn’t want to start over. She wanted to go forward.
“Look,” she sighed. “I can’t keep doing this with you. Everyday it’s a fight with you and I have no idea why. I don’t know what I did the other day to make you leave like that…but you need…”
She paused again.
“Well I don’t know what you need o honestly, but it’s something you have to figure out for yourself.”
She considered hanging up then, but she didn’t want to leave him on such a harsh note.
“I really hope you try, Pan, because I don’t want to fight with you anymore. After everything, I really want us to be—“
The voicemail beeped, inquiring if she wanted to start over or if she was satisfied with her message.
She didn’t want to start over.
So she hung up and headed to the docks.
Killian was there, as he always seemed to be.
Perhaps it was her need for new freedom that silenced the warning bells in her head, that made her drop the walls and inhibitions that had clung to her like a second skin during the last several months.
She approached him without fear, without any type of concern holding her back.
And she didn’t question him when he slid a manila folder into his leather coat.
“Is dinner still on the table?” she questioned.
He tilted his head, amused, though his pulse was racing. “I thought lunch was the next step.”
Wendy shrugged, stepping a bit closer. “I’m feeling…braver than I did yesterday.”
He chuckled, concealing the folder further into his jacket for dear life. “Well then, Miss Wendy Darling, tomorrow night?”
She smiled, relieved. “I’d like that.”
He watched her leave, noting the little pep in her step.
Such a lovely girl, he thought, and more malleable than he had originally foreseen. Jones thought he was going to have to push her more to fall into his grip, but it would seem she was finally crumbling.
He made his way back to this ship quickly, opening the folder full of information for his backup plan.
He stepped into his cabin, breaking out his best rum. This was a small victory after all.
Some of the glasses on his counter shook lightly, so little they could almost be missed. Jones rolled his eyes. He’d forgotten to feed his captive again…and water him for that matter.
Whoops.
He still hadn’t told him why he’d requested those files, what he was digging for.
Who he was searching for.
And how Miss Darling was involved was still being revealed, but time was running short.
He had been given orders to find out now.
He spread his new leverage across the table, frowning a bit.
The two boys, preteens by the look of it, caught his eye first. He hated targeting kids. It was so pointless.
His eyes traveled to the woman next. He could see bits of Wendy in her, especially in the shape of her eyes. She had the man’s jaw however…and his frown, he noticed with amusement.
A tidy little family in danger of meeting the blunt end of his gun.
Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that, he decided as he hid the folder. Hopefully, very soon, Wendy would tell him what he wanted to know.
The pipes sang from Pan’s struggle again.
He was already a dead man walking, and too tight-lipped to save now.
Feeding time.
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anpannkko · 4 years
Text
Here's my entrance exam for @taiyuu-high-oct
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kiru bounced her leg, growing antsy. The pit in her stomach that had formed when she arrived has been filled with the prickly thorns of impatience. She’d been in the waiting room for what felt like actual years. The rest of the students had slipped into a sedentary state, idly checking their watches or cleaning their nails, or even just staring at the wall. Every so often, someone would jerk their head, fighting off the tendrils of sleep seeping into their bodies.
"STUDENTS!" the over-enthusiastic voice crackled over the intercom, jolting the examinees out of their stupor. "Prepare yourselves for the most dangerous exam of your lives! This exam is fraught with peril, fear, and…" The voice, who Kiru supposed was a woman, trailed off. "Buckskin, what's another word for danger?" 
"Er, maybe it'd be best to get to the exam part, Miss Laccadaisie." A soft voice (Buckskin, apparently) replied.
"Ah." There was a pause, then a scraping sound, like the microphone was being pushed across the table. "Your turn, then." 
Buckskin sighed. "Anywho. Students, pay attention to this bit. Your entrance exam will be given in the form of an obstacle race." Low whispers snaked across the room. Some students, like Tokachi and Hiraku, brightened. Their quirks were well suited for a race. The others looked deflated, Kiru among them. How was she supposed to show off her quirk in an obstacle race?
"Some of you may be feeling downcast," Buckskin said as if reading her thoughts, "but don't fret. We've taken care to ensure that all quirks will be usable." The room let out a collective sigh of relief. 
"You will be scored in three categories. The first: heroics, which is measured by how many enemies you defeat and bystanders you save. The second: speed, measured by how fast you defeat each obstacle. The third: co-operation." Kiru raised an eyebrow.
"You will be taking the exam with an assigned partner."
...
Oh boy.
Cries of indignation filled the room.
"What?! This a group project?!"
"I hardly know anyone here!"
"Oh...what if I'm no help?"
Laccadaisie cleared her throat pointedly. Everyone quieted down immediately. Buckskin muttered a quiet thanks, then continued. "Your pairs will be displayed on the screen to the right, and then you may leave through the door on the left. Remember, your points are cumulative, so don't try to sabotage your partner." He coughed. "Er, we wish you all the best of luck.
"And don't forget to have fun!" Laccadaisie chimed in. And with a click, the intercom shut off.
Silence.
Kutou was the first to pipe up. "Whoever gets assigned with me, you better not expect me to carry you." 
"Vhy vould anyone trrrrust you enough to carrrry zem?" A girl with purple hair and grey skin muttered. 
The screen on the right flashed. 
TAKAKUTOU SHAKOU & TOKACHI AMEKO
Kutou stood up and trudged her way over to the door. "Come one, bunny girl. Let's get this done." Tokachi stood up begrudgingly, glaring with all the powers of Hell at Kutou's retreating back. Kiru whistled lowly.
 She never wanted to be on the receiving end of that glare.
The two of them slipped out of the room, and after that people started trickling out into the most important moment of their careers. The screen flashed brightly, sealing each pair's dates. 
SEISHIN TAMASHI & INOUE HIRAKU
YUKINO ZOË & HOTARU FUJI
SUZUKI POPI & ARAKAN KOATSU
 With each person that left, the tension grew heavier and heavier until Kiru could practically taste it. Her potential partner options grew slimmer and slimmer. She had a sneaking suspicion who hers was gonna be, but she kept praying it wouldn't be so. Soon everyone had left except for…
Him. 
She hadn't even bothered to learn his name. Why waste time and energy getting to know someone you'd never plan on talking to by your own free will?
The look on his face told her that her line of thinking was paralleled. 
She sighed. "Well, howdy doody, partner? What's your name? I didn't catch it over the sound of your stupidity whilst you were preening earlier."
He scoffed and pointed to the screen.
KANZOU KANEDA & KOTTOBA KIRU
       
           "Personally, I'd rather avoid speaking to you more than is necessary," he drawled. "Don't want to give the impression that I tolerate you." 
             Kiru rolled her eyes. "Your loss, McSalty, you're missing out on a stellar personality." She strode over to the door and opened it, giving him a comically over-the-top bow. "Ladies first." 
             "What an elementary insult."
             "Honey, if you thought that was an offence, you've never looked in a mirror." She shut the door behind her. Kanzou opened his mouth, probably to give some poorly thought out retort, but was cut off by a rather distracting explosion. 
               Kiru ducked instinctively and turned her attention to the scene before her. Several surprisingly human-sized robots were darting around; breaking windows, throwing around bricks, and harassing passerby. There were screams of citizens (which she hoped were simulated) echoing around. Above them all, a significantly larger robot floated above the chaos, clearly meant to be the final boss.
                She whistled. "They really went all out, didn't they?" Silence. "Alright then. Can you handle a couple of robots while I do some rescues?" 
                "Let's just get this over with." He rushed off and started hurling...sugar? At the robots? How was that supposed to help? 
She shrugged and ran off towards the nearest citizen, who was being attacked by a villain. The citizen was a different type of robot, more round and friendly-looking. The enemies were sharper-looking and had screens on their faces, which was currently displaying “>:)”. Kottoba rushed over and tugged the attacker off, throwing it across the street. It was surprisingly light. She turned back to the citizen and helped it to its feet. 
    “You alright, man?” The friendly robot brushed itself off and gave Kiru a thumbs up before running off. She smiled. That wasn’t that hard. She ran to the next group of citizens and herded them away from the fight. Then there was one pinned under a bit of debris. Then a child-sized one stuck in their house. Then a couple, clinging to each other, being beaten by a whole gang of robots.
    She obliterated them all. 
    Feeling more and more confident with each moment, she turned around to check on Kanzou. 
    “Oh, brilliant.” 
    The narcissistic rat was challenging the boss. There was a random assortment of small fruits and vegetables floating around him. He was hurling sugar everywhere, occasionally spicing it up with a piece of produce, which didn’t seem to have a be super effective. The boss was attacking him so fast, it was a wonder Kanzou wasn’t shredded to bits by now.
    “Oi! Raisin-brain! What are you doing?!” Kiru yelled out. 
    Kanzou glanced over and at that moment the boss was able to land a hit. He dropped to the ground.
    “Frick-” Kiru rushed to him, prepared to help and possibly perform CPR, but Kanzou kicked her as soon as she was in range. 
    “Ow! Why?” 
    “Get down, you stupid friking idiot.”  he hissed. Kiru dropped immediately. 
    “Why the heck were you fighting that thing? You were supposed to get the little ones down first.”
    Kanzou rolled his eyes. “Did you forget the entire point of this thing? It’s a race, dummy. Obviously, the big bad is the obstacle. We've gotta defeat it and then find the exit." 
    “Okay, then, what do we do?” 
            He put a hand on his chin and furrowed his brow. "Obviously, it's a tough one, considering my skills were barely able to make a dent in it. We'll have to rely on trickery." 
            Kiru gave him an incredulous look. "Your skills? You mean throwing potatoes at a robot?"
            He gave her a harsh glare, cold as ice. "Well, you haven't done anything significant this whole time." 
             She sputtered. "I'm the only reason we even have points! You're the unhelpful one! All you've done is chuck fruit and I could do that without a quirk!" Kanzou opened his mouth to argue, but at that moment The Boss hurled a handful of small building chunks at them. One piece smacked Kiru in the head, and it hurt.
             To put it delicately, Kiru lost it.
            "Oh, rust off, you bucket of bolts!" She popped up from their shoddy hiding place, anger boosting her new-found energy. "You are the sorriest excuse for a villain dummy I've ever had the displeasure of meeting! You're not even doing anything, you stupid hunk of garbage! Your mother was a roomba and your father came from a scrapyard! What are you even made of, brainless steel?!" The Boss stopped suddenly, its facial screen glitching. Sparks flew from its joints, and it jerked violently. Kiru backed away. It was going crazy. The robot stopped convulsing, its facial screen briefly displaying an ":0" face.
              And then it exploded.
             "Gah!" Kiru scrambled out of the explosion's range. Flaming pieces of robot rained down, making it 100% more dangerous. A hand tapped her shoulder and she jumped. It was Kanzou, who was pointing to a door that had opened up on the other side of the fire. 
             "That has to be the exit!" He exclaimed. Kiru nodded in agreement. 
             "How do we get there?"
              In response, he flicked his hand and drew out a white powder from one of his pockets. "You need to follow me closely, otherwise you'll get burned." He took off, laying down thick layers of powder in front of him. Kiru bolted after him. The powder seemed to put out the fire almost instantly. After they had gotten through the worst of it, he spread his arms in a grand gesture, and a flurry of powder settled over the remaining flames. He turned back, satisfied. Kiru grinned.
              "Race you to the exit." Kanzou rolled his eyes, then dashed ahead of her. "Hey! I didn't say go yet!" She yelled, but she wasn't really mad. She ran after him, but he totally got there before her. "Rude."
             "Don't be offended,I'm just better than you." Kiru snorted. She pushed open the door, giving him a comical bow.
            "It's still ladies first." 
            "Excuse you, I'm a queen." He strode in and yelped. Kiru quickly followed him. 
            "What? What is-" she gaped.
            In front of them, there was a large screen, displaying their rankings among the other examinees. 
            "Second place?!" Whatever Kiru was expecting, it wasn't that. "Heck yeah, dude!" She raised her hand for a high five. Kanzou just scowled.
             "I could've done better if you hadn't slowed us down." He meant it to sound insulting, but Kiru thought he sounded more mad at himself. 
               Or maybe her brain was filtering it to sound that way as not to ruin her mood. Whatever.
              "Well, we're in the school now. Schools are for improving, right?" She grinned. "I'll just have to work hard to turn my stupid into strategy." Kanzou didn't respond, but he didn't scoff or roll his eyes, so Kiru took that as a sign he'd taken her stellar advice to heart.
                Ah, yes. Kottoba Kiru, dropper of hot wisdom, maker of puns, master of flirtation…
                Hero hopeful.
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insane-control-room · 5 years
Text
The Concept, Chapter 5
Ao3 Link
It’s been too long since I’ve gone on.
Warning: Contains themes and scenes that are not suitable for everyone. Specifics are: overdose, suicidal ideation and related, depression, and insanity
Henry learned rather quickly the place he found himself in was hell.
Then again, he knew it from the time he worked there, but the disheveled state of the building made the tyranny of the aura all the more prevalent.
There were locked doors, broken and flickering lights, creaking floorboards, the massive ink machine he remembered Joey tinkering with and creating.
Joey Drew. The name left a sour taste in his mouth.
Henry easily powered up the machine
He almost jumped out of his skin when a plank fell from the ceiling, cursing it out and sputtering, hand gripping his heart.
The damn cutout that just… appeared, out of nowhere, almost like it was set up, it’s black, dark, venomous pie cut eyes following him, trained on him, a vice on his body.
He looked beyond it.
He stiffened, walking up to the… thing mechanically, no choice but to investigate, to try and piece together the shattered bits of clues.
The… the sight of Boris’ mangled and vivisected body. It was sick, something very wrong.
Preternatural, twisted a fairytale gone south faster than the stock market crash of ‘29.
Henry did not have very many good memories of working here, but his old desk brought in a wave of nostalgia. But from what? Maybe it was just the joy of animation. Of bringing things to life with his hands.
To grow and create.
Back in the day, Joey made him stay late with him to work on animations.
Pushed him, encouraged his workaholism.
Work hard, work happy.
Then it got worse.
Work hard, work harder.
Happiness ebbed away, and stress alongside exhaustion strained into the job.
More and more effort, pushing himself harder, forcing himself to his limits.
Work your hardest.
Looking at the doodle on his desk, the doodle he had frantically covered, marked with a note for Wally to hide it, he realized how much time he wasted there. Cowering in some strange version of friendship and fear.
Mostly discomfort.
The friend that overstayed his invitation.
The invitation being into Henry’s life.
He tried to force him from his family, pushing the idea of a ‘studio family’, neglecting his own family, his wife and his daughter.
Sure, Diane and he did not last - but he had Linda.
His daughter, who he ignored and pushed away while he worked for Joey. He should have spent more time with her instead of leaving her with Diane or with one of her grandmothers, he should have bonded with her more.
He realized that when he left.
His daughter was so happy, such euphoria coursing through her when he told her that he quit, and she had taken him by the hand to spin around their living room with him, chanting, “daddy, daddy, you’re finally home!”
Now, for some inexplicable, insane, god damned reason, he was back. He was back in the place he lied to himself about. The studio was never anything good, it was a prison, a prison sealed with stockholm syndrome, a jail cell with the most cunning locks.
And here, back in this Hell… something was so very wrong.
Starting up the machine was easy.
The ritual was strangely familiar, as though he had performed it before, but maybe in a vague dreamlike state.
Was it deja vu?
No, he had definitely done this before….
______
Red eyes.
Angry, hurt, red eyes.
Henry stared at Joey. Something was off about him.
_____
The change in the man was obvious now. There was no doubt about it, he was changed. Skin dark like black tea, eyes red like rubies, magenta glasses, a tall stature on his shoulders yet bound to the wheelchair, black jacket, white pants, all familiar and yet so strange.
“Joey?” he murmured. The man ignored him pointedly, eyes narrowing. Red eyes, red, eyes, alexandrite red eyes. Whose were those? Whose lanky body? “... Johan?”
The man before him froze.
Then he smiled nervously, a smile Henry knew very well, but why?
“Let’s talk.”
____
“You promised one more run,” Henry growled, jabbing a finger into Joey’s chest. He rose a hand in a worried protest, a hand that Henry plucked out of the air. Their eyes met, Joey’s puce fearful and confused, he did not recall making such a promise. Henry’s second hand grasped his wrist, and he twisted. Joey howled, back snapping straight with the pain he could not escape from. Seconds, agonizing seconds, passed, and with a sud- SNAP. Joey felt like he could not breathe.
Henry’s hands were on his other wrist, bringing it down onto the counter with a crack. Johan wordlessly howled, doubling over on his broken wrists.
“That should teach you not to lie,” Henry growled. Joey, on his knees, gasped in air as tears spilled over his cheeks painfully. “I expect you to finish on the next run, or if I were you, I would fear for my hands.”
Joey nodded soundlessly and slowly, shaking and shivering.
Henry walked to the door, slipping through it without a word. Johan, stuck in his kneeling position, lowered his forehead to the floor, allowing his tears to drip through his lashes.
Shakily, a smile spread on his lips. Soon it will all be over. Soon it will all end. He would be forgiven! What a benevolent master Henry was! How kind!
Forgiveness!
What a remarkable, impossible, wonderful thought!
___
Dear reader, the next moments are no fault of mine. They are the result of another, whom despite pleading, constantly put aside their wellbeing. And so, it is with a bitterness I divulge the plaintiff cry of self inflicted impairment. This is their fault in two major ways.
I am merely relaying it.
He regretted deleting the Numerica.
He had to have something.
Everything hurt, his wrists ached, more than with the pain of the chains that normally enveloped them, tight and cruel.
He wanted something to relax his mind.
He wanted it.
He NEEDED it.
He groaned.
His closed eyes snapped open, a grin lopsidedly spreading on his lips.
He knew where he could get something of the sort.
He rummaged in another’s dimension, pulling his hand back.
In it, yellow pills.
Half of one was one dose, right?
Shrugging, he tipped the whole thing into his mouth.
He smiled and let the drug take over.
Colors, brighter than he had ever seen in his life, due to his impairment, splashed over his vision. Pain vanished. Ink dripped from his lips.
The colors heightened.
Brighter.
Whiter.
Maybe death would be good.
He did not regret stealing the pills, he never would see him again, anyways.
Johan’s final gift to him, his death with the other’s instrument.
He groaned as the pain from overdose kicked in.
His stomach throbbed and his head ached.
Pain hit every nerve.
He wanted to curse him. To curse them.
But he could not, he was powerless, and he felt tears prick his eyes, only the bright green of the numbers on his vision.
They dripped down the sides of his face, slipping into his hair, shame burning into him again. He cried out in agony, needless needles jabbing into every muscle, tearing him open from the inside out like claws, ripping into every single bone and tendon, a gluttonous devour of any clean feeling he held.
He wanted to die as the pain coursed through him, but he knew he would not be able to.
He choked on his tears, unable to move as the pills wrecked his body, forcing him to scream out, his voice raw and aching, trapped more than before.
He gasped and sobbed, hating himself.
Hating his weakness.
Hating everything about himself.
Pathetic.
He tried to curl up to let the pain ebb away, but the pills kept him still.
He hated himself.
He closed his eyes, and sobbed.
Why did they do this to him?!
Why were they giving him more pain than he was in already!?
Did they hate him?
They must, right?
There was no other explanation.
Confusion sank into him. He thought they loved him. Did… did they never love him?
He felt his shoulders slump.
No one could love him.
Obviously.
He was just a glitch bitch, a worthless shit, empty code, useless machinery. Pathetic, broken, a toy. Nothing. A zero.
They were right to hate him.
He was nothing good, nothing kind, a liar, a drug addict, a murderer, and now, a thief.
Pathetic.
Such a blight.
A disgrace.
He moaned, hand clenching on the pill bottle.
He wanted the pain to end. He wanted it to all go away.
He wanted everything to go away.
He wanted to die.
And this was a reminder he could not.
He hated himself.
____
Henry’s lips kept taking his attention. He had to focus, he needed to barter this right.
“I can do it in a thousand runs,” Johan assertively insisted. Henry shook his head. Joey scowled. “How about you try to repair our world using only ones and zeroes, huh?”
“I’m not the one who committed genocide,” Henry growled, his hand fisting on the table. Johan swallowed roughly. “Fifty at most.”
“Fifty!” Johan exclaimed, disgusted. “Fifty runs will never be enough for me to code even half of south america!”
“Then a hundred will suit you just fine!”
“Seven hundred fifty!” Johan lowered.
“Seventy five!” Henry challenged, eyes narrow.
“Eight hundred!” Joey insisted.
“A hundred,” Henry returned, not planning on conceding.
“Seven hundred is my lowest,” Joey grumbled, eyes looking over Henry, slitted and frustrated. “You can’t rush art.”
“This isn't god damned art!” Henry roared, leaping to his feet. “This is my goddamn life!”
“It’s my goddamn life, too!” Joey seethed. “Y-You don’t understand what you’ll be taking from me! People I love, people I car-”
“What fucking people!?” Henry demanded in an explosion, eyes wild, hands slamming onto the counter, making Johan jump back in fright and shock. “Other yous!? Is that it!? Fuck that, when this is over I’m going to make sure you never see them again! They’re distractions! All of you, every fuckin’ version is a liar! That’s probably why you get along so nice and dandy, oh, he’s a murderer, that’s fine, we all killed someone last week! Is that it!? And how many of you share the same fucking deviance?! How many of you are sods, huh?!”
“Henry!” Joey sputtered, flushing and grabbing at his heart pin. “Y-you’re bisexual, how can you say such a thing? How can you be so, so crude?”
Henry scowled, and then stopped, sighing and slowly lowering himself back onto his chair. Joey watched him with hurt in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Henry said, sincere. “I didn’t mean to say that, I got mad and I wanted to bother you. What I said was wrong.”
“It’s okay,” Johan murmured, sitting down in his wheelchair, his hands wrapping around his cup of tea. Henry’s cold hands pressed over his, and their eyes met. Joey’s lips quirked up in a small smile, Henry’s following in his smoother fashion. “Six hundred?”
“Two hundred.”
“Five hundred is the lowest I can do,” Johan shook his head.
Henry sighed, and stuck out his hand.
“Five hundred it is, then,” he said, sealing the deal with a shake.
Johan made his way to the door, opening it, paining a blue tack on the wall.
“This is run one.”
_____
Johan messed up. Repeatedly.
The artist was trying so hard, and Henry continuously got madder and angrier with him.
He wanted to please him so badly.
To be good!
He could be good!
He could!
Please, believe him, he could b-be good….
He offered Henry runs every time he failed.
With bright hopeful eyes.
Tears in them.
He was lowered, down, down, down, to 414.
____
He could not move properly. Something familiar, horrifically, hideously familiar, pressurized his chest. He was… on his knees? Something restraining him from falling. His blue black hair was splayed everywhere, messily spiking over his eyes. He swayed his head side to side, trying to get a bearing of his surroundings. A wry, tight grin crossed his lips, like someone tearing through paper unevenly with a knife.
Right.
He gave a hollow laugh, whistling to himself and swaying.
He could wait.
He was patient.
He would wait for the good doctor.
Eventually, the door clicked unlocked and swung open.
Footsteps waxed near him, and he continued to whistle and sway, head rolling on his shoulders and chest like a twisted pendulum.
The footsteps paused, and he tensed, a grin mangling his already eerie features.
Silence.
“Boo!” he sharply snapped his head up, jolting at the doctor before him, wild eyed and beaming maniacally. He dropped his notepad on the floor, the restrained man sticking out a leg to cover it and pull it back. The doctor, with his hand on his chest, glared at him as he cackled and hooted with laughter. “Aw! C’mon doc! You’re as white as a ghost!”
“Enough, Ramirez,” the doctor ground out, trying to get back his notebook. Joey grinned at him, kicking up the pad, bouncing it off his shoulder and catching it in his mouth. Quickly standing to full height, he towered over him, grinning smugly. “Joey Drew.”
“Fine, have it your way, Dr. Stein,” Joey grumbled tossing the book. His terrifyingly happy demeanor shifted to one of melancholy, and he sat back on the floor, straight jacket making him feel horribly itchy. “What’re you here for? To gloat?”
“No.” Henry flatly replied. “The lobotomy procedure was cancelled.”
“Really?” Johan’s head slowly rose, eyes wide with wonder. “And… and that means no split brain treatment either?”
“Neither.”
“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, sagging against the wall. “Oh, Doctor, thank you.”
“Are you going to take your medication without fighting this time?” Henry questioned blandly, measuring out a thick, black liquid, into a thin, cylindrical tube. Joey stared at it in disgust, hesitating before shaking his head in the negative. Henry grimace. “Take the goddamn medicine, Joey.”
“I don’t want that,” he grit out painfully, eyeing it with disgust and some fear. Henry approached him swiftly, holding him down on his shoulder. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye, flushing from embarrassment. “I’ll do it for a kiss.”
“Just take the it,” Henry growled, pushing the vial against his lips. Johan pursed them. “Come on already! Take it!”
He shook his head.
Henry’s nails dug into his shoulder, the glass painful through his lips. Joey reluctantly, feeling contempt toward himself, parted his lips.
“There we go,” Henry hummed, running a hand up and down his shoulder. Joey shuddered, his eyes squeezed shut. The taste of the ink… ink? What ink? INK.
With a skreech, he jolted back to reality, screaming, aching, trembling, thrashing.
He made sure he had command of his limbs, sharply lifting his hands and waving them in his face. He curled up, and cried.
Was that real?
Was his entire world a drug induced nightmare? Were the people he knew here just… just other people in an asylum? Was it all fake? It was, wasn’t it? There was no explanation. He was alone.
No.
He refused to believe that he was nothing more than a dream, he was real.
Think of the others.
More proof he was fake.
No.
He was real.
Nothing could stop him.
He was nothing, and nothing would stop him.
No.
He had to believe.
Belief never got him anywhere.
No.
He had to hope.
He had to hope, as belief abandoned him.
Hope was all he had, and he would use it.
He set his fingers to the keys.
Hours passed in his work. He slipped away to visit the others, having completed the necessary amount for the run, proud of himself.
In a few runs, he would have to meet with Henry.
He was not scared, he finally reconciled with his closest, and he was ready to face one of them again, he was ready.
He saved, and waited for Henry to come.
He fidgeted, an unfamiliar dull aching permeating his body.
What was wrong with him?
He coughed, feeling the throb from the simple action he was all too used to.
What was happening?
He tried to focus on the clock. It made him smile. Time worked again. It was a big accomplishment on his end, even if he saw it as a small feat. It was difficult, but he had done it.
What was wrong, why did he feel so… off?
. .. …
Pain spiked into all his being, every limb screaming, each cell shrieking.
He screamed, darkness flaring through his sight, and he felt the wheelchair dissipate from under him.
All he could feel was pain.
Agony seeped into every pore, his lungs burning, his eyes welling, his chest heaving as torment ripped though his body.
He could not move, all he could do was feel nightmares claw at his eyes, false memories of needles jabbing into him, tight restriction holding him in place as fire swept through him, razing every nerve.
“Johan! Are you alright!?” Henry’s voice cut through like a knife. Johan felt a strong arm on his back pulling him to sit. He felt himself get carried to the couch when it became clear he would collapse again. “Oh, Joey, you weigh less than ever before… Joey, pal, wake up, I’m going to get you something to drink, stay put.”
Joey groaned as he forced his bleary eyes open. To his relief, most of the apartment was still in place, and it seemed no progress was lost. Just a bit longer, and he would finish.
He sighed contentedly, leaning back against the couch, gripping it with one hand. Solid. The sensation made him want to laugh and cry out of elation and anticipation.
“Alright, Joey, I’m ba- holy shit!” Joey’s eyes rose to view the wide eyed stare of the other animator. His gaze was drawn to the top of his own head, following Henry’s look. He looked down at the hand on his lap shamefacedly as he caught the merest glimpse of silver. Silver! The other hand hastily shoved it off his forehead and back, not wanting to see any of it. He felt so young, but he felt so tired and ancient, and his body showed it. Henry rushed over to him, gentle, broad, calloused hands slipping through the locks in wonder and with great curiosity. “Your hair… it’s not black anymore. Or even blue.”
“Sorry it’s ugly,” Johan muttered, reaching to his knees and pulling them to his chest, Henry making an odd noise in his throat. “The cause of it is likely the fact that as our world becomes more filled, and as time measuring objects like clocks and calendars appear, I started to show the age I would be. I don’t suppose I aged very well, did I?”
“Joey, listen to me,” Henry’s voice was strange. Joey slowly looked up at him. “This isn't the first time I saw you with white. This is the first time it stuck. And it’s okay.”
“No it’s! It’s!” Joey made a frustrated sound, gritting his teeth. “I don’t! Want! To die! I don’t want to grow up! I’m still twenty two, no matter what my body looks like! I! I! I!”
“Calm down!” Henry soothed him, taking his hands off his face, where he was not even aware he was clawing at in his panic. "No, hey, don't worry about it! I think it... it looks nice! It suits you. And the tips… the tips are still black and blue.”
“Really?” Joey asked quietly, not wanting to grow a false hope. Henry nodded. “I’m certain I look like a buffoon.”
“Not at all,” Henry chuckled. “It’s kind of like a paint brush.”
He ran his hand through it again, Joey leaning into the gentle caress.
Henry’s hand continued to make its way through his hair repeatedly, until Johan felt his eyes slowly drifting shut. Henry’s hand slipped to his jaw, turning his head gently, until they were face to face. They looked at each other in their daze for a long moment, then eyes widened, and they both snapped away, muttering excuses to no one, Henry’s flush more apparent than Joey’s due to their skin tones.
“Here.” Henry muttered, thursting the cup of water he got at the other old gentleman, the liquid circling the glass as centripetal force tugged on it, a small amount leaping over the side, the drops landing on Johan’s hand. Henry’s breath seemed to freeze, and he shoved the cup into Joey’s hands. “Now, drink it, and don’t stop once you start. Doctor’s orders.”
“You... alright there, Hen?” Joey asked, lowering the empty glass, wiping his lips with a small napkin that moth brought him. “Thank you, Gracehopper. Henry, you look… hungry? Is there something I can get you to eat?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Henry shook himself out of it. “Uh, should we see how else you aged?”
“Sure,” Joey sighed in defeat. “It’s not like I’ve ever had go-”
A rumbling tore them from their conversation. Joey groaned.
“It’s destabilizing again. You should go.”
“Fine.”
Joey glitched himself into his wheelchair as Henry made his way to the door. Joey stirred before his computer before looking over at the man.
“I’m almost done,” he called out behind him. Henry paused, and left.
______
And then he was done.
He wept.
He cried his heart out.
He sobbed and shook.
Since, when all is finished, the shock hits.
Henry stood before him as he cried.
He hugged him, awkward from the wheelchair.
“Ten more runs,” Henry reminded, and Johan nodded and wiped his tears. Time to make them last. Hold each precious moment, for he will never have it again.
____
Johan waited quietly for Henry to appear.
When he did, they strolled onto the streets of Manhattan, weaving through the people.
People, something that had been missing for thirty long, long years.
Still, thirty years of life stolen.
Henry and Joey knew it was time to set things right.
They came back to the studio, the ink machine powered on, the computer on, and the world turning to black and green.
Joey typed in the formula with tears in his eyes.
Tears of hope.
The reset button appeared, and he and Henry silently approached it.
“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, JOHAN!” a voice that never was roared, calling the name like a mockery. “LISTEN TO ME, I AM GREATER THAN YOU WILL EVER DREAM TO BE!”
Pipes swirled up onto his ankles and ink welled against his limbs, restricting and grasping him, pulling him back to hell. He cried out, and Henry turned back to ask what the matter was, and his eyes widened as he saw Johan, being pulled back even as he dissipated, an arm wrapped tight around his throat.
Henry let out a battle roar, running back, punching the attacker in the face.
The man, for man it was, swore and stumbled back as Johan wheezed and typed a code as fast as he could to get him and Henry back to the button, and paused everything. Henry looked back at the man behind them frozen in time.
He stared at him.
“Joey?” he said, pointing at the default with confusion, eyebrows quirking at Johan.
“No.” Johan grit out. Henry scowled, pieces falling into place. He forced Johan to face him, the dark man refusing to meet his eyes. “What is your problem?”
“You have to deal with him,” Henry insisted. Joey bit his lip and looked to his shoes. “That man, that thing, that, that monster, he’s your problem to deal with. If you don’t get rid of him, he will always be a part of you. You will never be comfortable with who you are as long as you don’t face him. So go! Fight back!”
“Forget it,” Johan muttered, wheeling himself to the reset button. Henry let out a huff of frustration, going over to join him. “Are you ready?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Henry curtly answered. “And you?”
“Yes,” he lied. He put his hand to the grey button, watching it fade into a deep indigo. He looked to Henry with a tilt of his head. “Your hand, if you please.”
Henry, saying nothing, placed his hand on the button as well, gold flowing from where his fingers met the code. It entwined with the blue, merging and dancing as one, sapping and strengthening each other, growing and changing and making something completely unheard of. There was a hum, and the button glowed green.
Active.
“Are you ready?” Henry inquired, his fingers twitching on the button, starting it.
“I am,” he fabricated. Inhaling sharply, he said, “Let’s do this.”
“Just so you know,” Henry’s hand tightened into a fist. “I don’t want to see you again. After whatever this is. I never want to see you ever again.”
Johan felt his heart break.
Again.
Something was wrong.
“Okay,” he whispered, ignoring the pang racing through his body.
“Well?” Henry prompted right hand pushing Joey’s left onto the button. “Click it now. On the count of three.”
The world was going to end, and Johan found it shoved in his face.
“Three!”
“Henry! Please, please, wait wait wait!”
“I thought you wanted us to end it all?”
“I don’t know!” he wailed.
“Two!”
“Please no! God, please wait, please, no, wait!”
“One!”
“Henry!”
He pushed their hands onto the button, slamming it and making the bright green glow gleam and glitter and glint and spread, time slowing, Johan able to see the numbers slowly making their way to the activated event.
He stared at the green numbers, eyes widening, and then
NOT THE FIRST TIME.
He gasped.
NOT THE SECOND TIME.
N-no… no, no, that does not make any sense, unless he had…
THIRD TIME.
He deleted his own memories.
Tears dripped down his face, memories flooding him, leaving him trembling, shaking, a tsunami of horror and disgust.
“Are you okay?” Henry’s voice asked him.
“Are you okay?” he asked twice before then.
Johan could not breathe.
Memory wipe?
Again?
Should he do another?
A fourth?
He looked back at the default Joey.
Henry was right, he would never leave him be if he did not fight back against it.
They stared at each other.
With a sharp turn, Johan wiped his memor
Johan Ramirez woke up in an abandoned apartment in Brooklyn.
He went to work and quit it.
He built a studio called “Joey Drew Studios”.
He built a computer.
He built an ink machine.
He deleted himself.
He destroyed his world.
He rebuilt everything, so slowly.
He stared at the default Joey.
Memories flooded back.
Guilt, guilt, guilt.
How many times will he repeat this?
How many times will he meet the same people?
If he moves on… what will change?
He would have only met others twice, if met at all.
Could he move on?
He hesitated.
“Joey?” Henry asked for the first time.
A chill ran down his back.
Everything will change.
It is changing now.
He turned his wheelchair slowly to face the fraudulent version of himself, sitting high and proud as he rolled to him.
To it.
To nothing.
He was the mother fucking Johan “Joey” Drew Ramirez, and nothing could take it away.
“You. Are. Not. Real.” he forced from his mouth.
The copy grinned.
“You never were.” he breathed, closing his eyes. “I am me. I am Joey Drew. You are not. You are coding that broke off of the original, because I was afraid of who I was not.”
He rose his head and stuck his chin forward, hands… perfectly steady.
“I’m not good looking. I’m not confident. I’m not smart.”
He inhaled, long and slow.
“And that’s okay. I don’t need to be.”
“I have been told that I am kind. That I am funny. That I am okay. You are not.”
He opened his eyes. The man before him wavered and snapped.
“I love who I am. And you are not me. And I deserve everything I’ve made for myself.”
He turned back around, and wheeled back to Henry.
No more memory wipes. No more feeling wrong.
Meant to be like this.
He was proud of who he was.
He shined his pin on his palm, smiled, and reset with Henry along him.
“Hey, so,” he called to him in the vortex, everything being pulled to them. “Henry, can… do you think we can meet up after all this? I’ve got something to tell you.”
Henry looked at him.
“I know you said that you don’t want to see me again, but… it’s important.”
“Can’t you tell me now?” Henry asked, testily. “While this is all ending?”
“This has happened before,” Joey told him. “All of this.”
“Really now?” Henry asked, curiosity sparked. “Among everything else that’s happened from what you’ve done, this one might just take the cake.”
“Will you meet me?” Johan questioned, tilting his head. “Tuesday, at the old park?”
“I’ll meet you in nineteen thirty, eh?” he smiled at Joey. “Change some things up?”
“N-no,” Joey shifted. “As soon as possible. I’ll probably… go home.”
Henry gazed at him.
“Tuesday at the old park it is,” he quietly affirmed.
Joey smiled at him.
He smiled back.
“I love you, you know,” he said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Henry muttered. “Love you too.”
Joey blinked, then beamed as reality warped around them.
Things were going to be great.
The end.
.
.
.
No.
He still has so many problems.
So much delicious fear, insanity, pain.
He’s not done yet.
Not by a long shot.
He has a job to do, he has a world to fix, and when all is said and done, it will end.
And it is not the end.
It cannot be….
Three pairs of feet surrounded the code that once was the body of Joey Drew.
It will not be...
“Well?” A wavering, glitching voice prompted. “Do we know who’s next?”
Not for a long long time…
“I believe he is,” a pulsing, tired one replied, turning to the last of them. “What do you think?”
Not until the drawing is done and framed and hung….
The ink demon only grinned, all teeth and no happiness.
…. The End.
28 notes · View notes
rainythefox · 5 years
Text
Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic CH.17)
Chapter 17: The Informant
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The 24-hour diner was quiet and mostly empty. The clanging of dishes could be heard from the kitchen and a waitress wiped down the counter in boredom. It was just after 3:30 a.m. and Connor, Hank, Simon, North, and Josh sat at a table discussing what happened at Jericho Center and their next move. Only a few other customers were dining in, some reading a digitized news tablet while eating or drinking coffee.
Hank groaned next to Connor, rubbing his eyes just as the waitress brought him his cup of coffee and breakfast. Connor had taken off his jacket and put on an old cap of Hank's to keep from drawing any unwanted attention.
Simon informed them that friends saw Alice sneak into the back of a Tahoe that took off during the attack on the center. They weren't able to stop her, but they knew she went after Kara.
"We have to figure out where they went, and fast," Simon said.
North mildly shook her head. "Wherever they took Kara, they took Markus. I just know it. I hope Alice will be okay."
Hank picked at his food. He was starving, but in no mood to eat. "Okay, so tell me what the footage showed. My phone kept blowing up because Ben was at the school."
"Well, our friends were right," Josh said. "When the rogue RK800 entered the Jericho Center, half the androids inside turned under his control. It was…creepy."
"It was the ones who received the anti-virus program," North explained. "The ones who were sick before."
Hank took a drink of his coffee, the liquid warming his belly and rejuvenating him. It was much needed, and he held the cup between his palms, savoring its warmth. "You think Kamski had something to do with that?"
"Not sure, but we should look into it," Simon answered. "Those white LEDs are indications of being controlled. It's not a glitch like CyberLife was saying, can't be. Now those thousands of sick androids are becoming puppets."
"Weird thing is, our friends said there were no white signals on any LEDs until around ten to fifteen minutes before that asshole showed up," North added.
"We need to figure out how he controls them," Josh said.
Connor stared at the table, thinking, subconsciously playing with his coin. "When I was captured, Connor 50 said he had a prototype program that CyberLife developed during the android demonstrations to try and regain control over deviants. I'm sure it's that, but he has obviously modified it to ally with the virus somehow."
"Or the anti-virus," North muttered, tapping her fingers on the table.
"It's hard to say," Connor said. "What's interesting is that he directly infected Luther and gained control over him immediately, but he was not able to do this with Kara."
"I wonder if that's why they want her," Hank said.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Connor said. He rolled the coin side up across his fingers back and forth. "But the rogue's behavior…it's strange."
"What do you mean?" Simon asked.
Connor gently shook his head, sighing. "I don't know. He seems…infatuated with her."
"The guy's a fucking asshole, what does it matter?" Hank asked.
"Exactly," his partner said, looking to Hank, flicking the coin between two fingers. "He is selfish and vicious. Why would he care about an AX400? He was oddly gentle with her, and his behavior showed signs of a conflicting disorder."
"How so?"
"I cannot know for sure from just watching the surveillance cameras," Connor said. "But to me, it looked as though Kara had some sort of sway over him. I've seen it in deviants before when they are overwhelmed with emotions. His LED sequenced a blatant signal of distress when Kara ordered him to let Alice go."
"So the prick has a crush on her? So what? That doesn't tell us where they took her," North said.
Connor shook his head, presenting a contrite smile. "You're right, I apologize. We should be focusing on finding out where they went."
Josh looked to Simon. "You have that letter saved on you, right? Show Hank and Connor. It tells them about an informant or something. Maybe we can start there."
"Oh yeah, Miranda's letter," Simon said, putting his hand out. The decrypted letter lit up as a holographic film over his palm for Hank and Connor to read.
/
If you're reading this, I'm most likely dead. RK800 number 50 is on to me. All these months of working for our plans, but Rett has completely lost it. He's hellbent on revenge on Kamski now, and he won't even tell us why. I have a feeling it's something deeper than what happened with the deviants in November and Kamski taking back CyberLife.
He trusts that defective RK800 but I know it is up to something. Henry said he saw it messing with the virus program and confronted it. Haven't seen him since. I saw it talking with a black-haired woman the other day, but couldn't get close enough to see who it was. It obviously hates humans, so why is Rett willing to trust it?
Eric thinks there is a flaw in the Amanda A.I. program and suggested that Rett disable it and shut down the RK900, as it continuously comes up with its own instructions to control the RK900 that we didn't even encode.
Rett is too caught up in his revenge scheme to take notice of this.
We've been holed up at Roland for days. I've seen a machine RK800 watching us. I will try and send it this coded message for help. My time is limited, so I can only hope this message finds the right person to stop this. RK800 number 50 found out about my tip to the FBI, I just know it.
I've asked my good friend Savion to keep tabs on number 50 and this mysterious black-haired woman. He's an informant and can be found at the Eclipse nightclub downtown. He should be able to help whomever is reading this letter. Use my name and the number "0308612" and he will know why you are there.
I'm sorry for what I have done. I should've realized what we were doing was wrong much sooner. I fear we will all pay with our lives in the end.
M.S
/
"Savion Jones, I know him," Hank said.
"You do?" Connor asked.
"Yep. Used him quite a few times for cases. Sometimes it takes a crook to catch a crook. Haven't talked to him in over a year though. I guess that's what happens when you get a state-of-the art prototype android that can solve cases for you."
"Will he help us?"
"Oh, he'll help ya…for the right price. Luckily, he owes me."
Simon got up from his seat. "We should head over there then. See what he knows."
Hank pushed his empty plate away. "Fine, but let me get a coffee to go. This is turning into the longest fucking night of my life."
"Agreed," Connor said.
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He knew they were close. Not just by the calculated route he followed on his GPS to the location, but because he also saw the massive white satellite sticking out from the throngs of trees. The three Tahoes followed the dirt road up the mountain. The abandoned Kemper Telecommunications Station was just up ahead, another forgotten relic from Detroit's bankrupt years.
The RK900 just finished running a third diagnostic on himself. His systems were running smoothly, and there were no problems, yet he felt something was wrong with his Thirium Pump. It had to be a faulty biocomponent. Yet the only abnormal reading he could get was a heightened stress level.
The best way he could describe the feeling in his chest was pain, yet he wasn't supposed to feel it. Perhaps he had faulty wiring that was short-circuiting from within. Whatever the case, it bothered him.
All he could think about on the drive up the mountain was what happen at the Jericho Center. Seeing the deviants taken over by the modified virus and falling under his accomplice's control wasn't anything new now. Amanda assured him that it was all to reset deviants back to machines, to make everything as it was. But now, he wasn't so sure of that.
Connor 50's behavior towards Kara was baffling. He had never seen the rogue act such a way before. Whenever the AX400 talked, his systems went completely unstable, and only heightened if she raised her voice or commanded him. Despite this, he was able to hide the effects it caused, as crafty as he was. But there was no denying the open distress he showed when she demanded him to let the YK500 go, and he acted as though he was about to listen to her. Amanda told him that Connor 50 could not be controlled, that the damage done by the hunters prevented so, but that she manipulated him a different way. Fear perhaps, or promises she didn't intend to keep. Either way, it seemed as though the rogue wanted to be obedient to Kara, when that was not his normal behavior at all.
Then there was the YK500. The RK900 would've never expected one to step in front of him like that. She risked getting destroyed just to protect the TR400 that she thought was her father. And he tried to protect her as well, even though it got him infected. The pleas that Kara made to the YK500 Alice made him feel something was cutting his wiring within his chest. He recalled Alice's cries as they left her behind, how it actually made him stumble and look back. Why did it affect him so?
They acted like a real human family…
He recalled Connor 51's words to him back at the abandoned school after he had yelled, "Androids don't have family!"
"They do, you just don't take the time to look."
Maybe he was right…
[Software~Instability^]
The RK900 parked the truck and got out. The other two Tahoes pulled in, headlights flashing across an empty compound. Controlled androids stepped out, shoes crunching on littered gravel. The station was large and multi-story, and in decent shape despite its age and lack of care. The giant satellite in the back was dirty and pointed towards the night sky, a pale tower of stillness. Metallic creaks echoed between structures, riding on the wind. The facility had more than one satellite, but the others were located out in a field behind the building.
The infected androids rolled the heavy gate shut, locking them inside. The perimeter fence made of chain-link stood fifteen feet high and was topped with barbed wire.
"Ahh, here we are."
The RK900 turned at the voice. Connor 50 took in the sight of the station, a sly smirk on his face. His damaged eye emitted a haunting crimson glow into the shadows, like a candlelight in darkness. Kara stood not far from him, holding herself, her blue eyes scanning the station, the towering satellite, the tall perimeter fence. She didn't bother trying to escape. She was trapped here and the rogue had disabled her communications to call for help.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"An abandoned satellite station outside the city. Don't worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable."
"What are you planning? Why do you need me? What's so special about this secret program I have?"
"Like I said, I'm just the weapon…the tool. You'll learn soon enough."
As infected androids grabbed Kara and started escorting her away, she called out at Connor 50. "Wait! Please, don't do this!"
Connor 50 tugged the cuffs of his dark jacket. The RK900 didn't miss the flare of red on his temple, or the scruple that scrambled his computing. "It'll be over before you know it. Do not fret, my dear. Your other half is in there."
After Kara was taken into the station's main building, the RK900 glared at the rogue's back. He watched the infected androids unload the vehicles, carrying out weapons, ammunition cases and duffel bags.
"I do not understand your behavior towards her. What is the point? Her disposition towards you has nothing to do with the mission."
Connor 50 rolled his eyes. "Like you would understand. Anyway, I find it quite interesting you are now identifying androids by certain sexes. I've noticed it a few times now."
The RK900 avoided his direct gaze and his sleazy smile. "It's out of habit from working with you. Nothing to be concerned about."
"Uh-uh." The rogue snickered. The RK900 felt a prod to his chest and glared at his accomplice. He resisted the urge to ignite his electric shock. "I'm sensing some questionable errors in you. I saw how you hesitated with the YK500. What was that all about?"
The RK900 smacked the RK800's arm away, grabbing him up by the shirt collar. "Are you implying that I have been compromised?"
Connor 50 let himself dangle from his clutches, amused. "Well, who knows. I am just an obsolete model after all. Do you feel alright?"
The RK900 dropped him with a low growl. "I've been self-testing regularly. There are no errors in my program. I am a machine. I know what I am."
The damaged RK800 choked a laugh, straightening his shirt. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, pal. Save that kinda bullshit for the humans. But hey, it doesn't matter to me what you are. As long as you're loyal to Amanda."
The RK900 pointed a finger at him. "You have no right to talk about loyalty. You have none. I will continue to serve Amanda, and she has given me direct orders to destroy you once you are no longer useful. So I suggest you keep doing as she says."
As usual, his accomplice was about to challenge him, but they heard shouting two vehicles down. Their heads snapped over, and they saw the infected carrying a familiar YK500 over to them as she kicked and struggled in their grasps.
"Let me go!"
"Well, look at that," Connor 50 said. "A stowaway."
The infected put her down. Alice's feet scraped across the gravel as she tried to run away, but she was seized once more. They shoved her forward to stand before the rogue and the RK900. The RK900 stared down at her in surprise. Did she really risk herself to come after the machine she thought was her mother?
She gaped at them with wet eyes, hugging herself. Connor 50 withdrew his handgun and cocked it before her. The hollow click carried through the compound like Death's cough, making the android child flinch.
"Should've stayed behind. I have no use for a YK500," the rogue muttered, aiming the gun at the girl's head.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, a quiet sob escaping her lips. The sight disturbed the RK900 and, without realizing it at first, pushed himself in front of her, grabbing Connor 50's arm and delivering a sharp jab to his face that staggered him.
He shook it off, glaring at the RK900, but the advanced deviant hunter didn't move.
"You ki-destroy her, and you will upset the AX400, and risk her self-destructing. Is that what you want?" he asked.
There was that distress signal from the rogue again, but it lasted only seconds. Growling lowly, he rubbed his head, stooping to pick up the gun he dropped. He slipped it into his jacket. Was Connor 50 even aware of the errors?
"Now, that's funny. You caring so much. What's it matter to you?"
The RK900 remained composed. "The success of this mission falls on the well-being of the AX400 Kara. Destroying this YK500 risks failure and needless delays. And it destroys whatever intentions you have with her, whatever the point may be."
Connor 50 stepped forward, glaring at the RK900, their faces inches apart. He poked the RK900 with a finger, sneering. "Alright then. If you care so much, then watch over her. Make sure she stays out of the way and doesn't escape. Understood?"
"Yes," he replied flatly.
Connor 50 shoulder-checked the RK900 out of the way, rubbing the girl's head playfully as he passed by. "Enjoy your new babysitter, brat."
The infected followed the defective RK800. The RK900 relaxed, his eyes lowering to the scared girl before him.
He had no idea why he intervened. What did it matter if the YK500 was destroyed? It didn't matter to the mission. They had Kara already. Although his excuses were valid, they could easily set the AX400 up to prevent her from self-destructing. His LED was yellow as he thought it over, confused.
He sighed. "Come on."
He walked for the station doors. He heard the girl's running footsteps rasping across gravel, and suddenly something tugged his hand. He looked down. The YK500 had snatched hold of his hand with hers, and wouldn't let go as they entered the station.
He didn't realize it, but it made him smile.
[Software~Instability^^]
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The Eclipse Nightclub was a popular hub in downtown Detroit. It was always packed, always loud, and was a favorite spot for some highly questionable people. Hank showed his badge and threatened the bouncers with some colorful language in order to gain them access. The nightclub was smaller than others within the city, but made way more money.
Past the neon-lit entrance, the opening floor was crowded with dancing humans and androids. Loud music played, making a conversation impossible. There were strobe lights of all colors flashing around, casting shadows and jerky movements. The dance floor dazzled with changing colors and fog. Exotic dancers flipped around on poles, and the smell of alcohol was overpowering.
"I don't even have a hangover, and I feel like I have a fucking hangover," Hank grumbled.
"What?" Josh asked loudly. He had his palms over his ears.
Connor looked over at him. "He says he feels like he has a hangover, even though he doesn't!"
"What?" North hissed.
"He says-"
Hank smacked a hand over Connor's mouth. "For the love of God, never mind! This way!"
They followed the lieutenant through the horde of partiers and dancers. There were excited screams and thrums of voices mixed in with the pounding music. The lights flashed and changed to the beat of the song. Hank led them into the back of the club, where bouncers blocked off a dark hallway lit up by colorful LED lights.
"How can humans stand this? I feel like my central processor is going to explode!" Simon said.
"It's no wonder they are fucking deaf half the time!" North yelled.
"What?!" Josh hollered again.
"This music is playing at too high a decimal, it will definitely hurt humans' hearing. And these lights are strong enough to damage eyesight for sure! On top of the drugs and alcohol, why would they subject themselves to such torture?!" Connor asked, blocking the flashing lights with his hands.
"It's a fucking party, it's the whole point!" Hank answered. "Now shut up and let me do the talking!"
"Who's doing the talking?" Simon asked, cupping his ears.
"He said he's-"
"Fuck me," Hank griped, smacking himself in the forehead. Hank shushed them, and then turned to the bouncers, presenting his badge.
"Lieutenant Hank Anderson, I need to speak with Savion Jones! It's about a case!"
The bouncers exchanged looks, only one nodding. He pointed down the hallway. "Take left, go up the stairs, room five."
Hank, Connor, Simon, North, and Josh followed the hallway to the left. The music, although vibrating through the walls, wasn't near as loud or intense back here. The androids sighed in relief as they took the stairs.
"I'm pretty sure I received permanent damage to my audio processor," Josh said, rubbing his ear.
"Ditto," North said.
Upstairs, they followed the dark hallway, passing doors. There was a long saltwater tank that took up one side of the corridor's wall, illuminating a rippling light. Several species of colorful fish swam around the huge tank.
Without even looking, Hank grabbed Connor's arm and tugged him along as his partner paused to admire the fish.
Hank rapped on the door. A moment later, the door opened and a woman peeked out. She looked the group over, green eyes narrowing. She stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind her. She had light skin and dark hair. Her right arm was decorated with a full tattoo sleeve, her nose was pierced and she wore dark eye shadow.
"Can I help you?"
Hank showed his badge again. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson. We need to talk to Savion."
The young woman crossed her arms, warily looking them over. Her eyes kept going back to Connor guardedly. She stepped over to him, scrutinizing him. Connor raised his eyebrows, casting Hank a confused look as she grabbed his arms and inspected his clothes and limbs.
"Uh, is there a problem?" Connor asked.
She let him go and moved away, a cynical smile forming. "Honey, I've met the Devil, and you could be his twin."
"He's not that RK800," Hank gruffly said.
"Considering you're here, and your androids aren't some mindless zombies shuffling around…I gathered that. This RK800 has soul in his eyes. But…just had to be sure." She opened the door, motioning them inside. "This way."
The room was a studio apartment with a wide window overlooking downtown Detroit and all its lights. There was a middle-aged black man with long dreadlocks dressed in chinos, a vest, and a long-sleeved shirt talking on a cell phone on the couch facing the window.
"Savion, you've got company," the woman said.
"Hey man, gotta go. Just remember Tuesday, alright? See ya."
The man tossed the cell phone onto the glass table in front of him and stood. He grinned upon seeing Hank, laughing. He approached the group, slapping hands with the lieutenant in a unique handshake.
"Well holy shit, if it ain't my boy from across the way. How the hell you been, Hank?"
Hank grinned. "Been alright. How about you, Save?"
The informant shrugged. "Hey, making money, tryin' to stay outta trouble. What else is there? You never come around anymore. What, my tips ain't good enough for your boys anymore?"
"Nah, nothing like that," Hank said, and grabbed Connor, pulling him over. "My partner is kinda a know-it-all, and can figure shit out in a pinch. So, just haven't needed to bother you, is all."
"I heard you got an android for a partner, but I didn't fucking believe it. And you got an RK800 of all things. Tryin' to put me out of work, huh?"
Hank chuckled. "Hardly."
Savion presented his palm to Connor. "Savion Jones. You're Connor, right?"
Connor nodded, shaking his hand. "Correct. Have you known Hank for long?"
"Sure. This fella got me outta big trouble when I was a kid. Now I just lay low and dig dirt on people for a price. Always happy to lend our men in blue a hand, or anyone else for the right price."
"A crook with panache," Hank said. "Isn't that what you said?"
"Don't you know it!" Savion laughed, smacking his hands and then waved the woman over. "Cindy, get this fine gent a drink! Come sit fellas, let's talk."
They sat around the lounge area, the night lights of Detroit a beautiful backdrop. Cindy left to the bar area to pour a drink. She didn't take long, and handed it over to Hank.
Savion leaned forward, rubbing his palms. "As sweet as this is, I know this ain't no social visit. How can I help ya guys?"
Hank nodded at Connor when his partner looked at him. Connor looked directly at the informant. "0308612."
Savion frowned. His mood shifted, and he leaned back into the couch. "Oh…"
"You alright?" Hank asked.
"Y-Yeah, just…wasn't expecting it so soon," Savion replied. "Miranda…she, well she was a good friend. Tip got to me this morning that they found her body in the river. Executed…shot point blank through the head. I was hoping…I was hoping she got away. But Killer's prowlin' all the time, it seems."
"Killer?" Simon echoed, eyebrows furrowing.
Savion motioned to Connor. "Your friend's evil twin. The criminals 'round these parts…that's what they call him. Miranda had me keeping tabs on him, but well, he killed quite a few of my men. I've had to stop. Hell, word is he's wanting to have a little chit-chat with me himself."
"This RK800 is somehow using a special program with the virus or Kamski's anti-virus to control androids," Connor explained. "He's taken Markus and a few of our friends and will no doubt use them for a sinister plot. We must find where they are hiding."
"He's taken Robo-Jesus, huh?" Savion asked. "Miranda said that Rett guy wanted Markus and some random AX400 she had no idea for."
"Miranda's letter said something about the rogue RK800 talking with a black-haired woman. Do you know anything about her?" Hank asked.
Savion half-nodded. "Kinda. Pretty little thing, pale skin, black hair. I think she had blue eyes. Saw her talking to Killer a few times, but she disappeared. Following her trail got a few of my men killed by Killer's puppets."
"Was she human?"
"Hard to say. Couldn't get close enough. She looked human, there was no LED. But Killer is known for not liking humans."
"He doesn't like androids much either," North grumbled.
Savion shrugged. "That's true. Killer's a real good actor though, can charm and get what he wants out of anyone and stab them as soon as they turn their backs. For all we know, that girl is dead."
"It's important that we find him. We can only guess what he and his accomplices are planning with hundreds of androids under their control," Connor explained.
"You owe me, Save," Hank said. "If we don't stop this asshole thousands of people could die."
The informant sighed, slowly nodding. "Alright, alright. Fine. But I will do this for Miranda. You keep your favor, Hank. I'll send scouts out, pick up where they left off. Maybe…Maybe we can track this prick down. I should have some information to you this afternoon."
Hank nodded. "Thanks, Savion."
Savion frowned. "Don't thank me just yet."
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Kara kept track of the turns and rooms they entered within the station. It was a labyrinth of metal walls and catwalks. Faded yellow paint on the walls directed them to platforms or control rooms. Several sizes of piping and cables ran along the ceiling and walls to unknown locations.
At one point, she swore she heard a woman singing, the tune dancing down a nearby hallway they passed. The voice soon died, and Kara wondered if she was hearing things, perhaps the voice of a soul that haunted this compound.
The tranced androids gave no indications that they heard the voice. They didn't even hear or understand her as she pleaded with them to let her go. Even Luther didn't respond to her as he led the group.
They entered into a room that was mostly empty save for a set of iron bars dividing it in half, making a large cell. The controlled androids brought her to the bars, opening a gate and shoving her inside. The iron gate screeched as it shut just behind her, locking her in.
She was about to turn and plea with them some more when she noticed another person sitting on an old chair in the corner of the cell. She recognized him immediately as he lifted his head at the sound of the groaning hinges.
"Markus!"
He looked just as surprised to see her, getting to his feet. "Kara! They got you too?"
She nodded, moving over to him, the infected androids remaining idle on the other side of the bars. "Yeah. Th-The rogue RK800 came to Jericho Center. He somehow gained control over most of the androids there and captured me."
"Shit," Markus hissed, looking the infected androids over with a scowl. "He got Luther too? Where's Alice?"
Kara lowered her eyes. "Safe, I hope. I was able to make him leave her alone."
"Did you see North, Simon, or Josh?"
"They were away from the center helping Connor and Hank get you back from the school. They didn't know you had already been moved."
Markus rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not sure if they will be able to find this place. We are at Kemper Telecommunications Station. It's thirty miles north of Detroit near the Bald Mountain State Recreation Area. We'll have to work together to escape."
"Do you know what they are planning?"
"Not sure, but I have an idea if this satellite ground station is any indication. Connor 50 was able to hack me and installed an A.I program on me. It's the same one that Connor had before he became a deviant. The A.I Amanda spoke with me…acted like I was supposed to know her somehow. She said I would remember soon. I think she may be the one controlling the rogue RK800, the RK900, and all of these infected androids somehow, or at least the one in charge."
Kara heaved a sigh, looking around their simple cell. "How do we escape?"
"Yes, Markus, how do we escape?"
The voice made them jump. Connor 50 walked through a crowd of infected, each controlled android stepping out of his way and making him a path as he strolled to the bars.
Markus glared at him. "What do you want? And what the hell happened to your face?"
Connor 50 casually shrugged, holding onto bars and peeking in on them. "Just checking in. I see you two are already collaborating an epic escape plan. Want my advice? Don't. I have 186 androids under my control in this facility. You won't get far."
"Then why don't you be a man and fight me one and one?"
As expected, the rogue was amused. "What are you going to do, Markus? Peacefully demonstrate me to death? Besides, I'm not a man. I'm something better. As are you. Stop lowering yourself to the level of humans."
Markus took a dominant step towards the leering RK800, Kara instinctively reaching out to try and stop him. "You're a coward hiding behind these poor people you control like puppets. It's sickening."
Connor 50 chuckled. "You're fun. But don't waste your breath, Android Messiah. You won't provoke me. I have my orders. Besides, you wouldn't stand a chance against me anyways. Or any RK800 for that matter."
Kara's eyes widened as the rogue unlocked the cell door and opened it. As soon as he stepped foot inside the cell, Markus went for it. He lunged forward with a swinging punch, but it was like watching a slow-motion film as Markus slowed until he was frozen in his attack, the fist inches from Connor 50's face.
The rogue looked bored, and Markus grunted, closing his eyes. Kara had no idea what was going on.
"Markus, what's happening?!"
"Looks like Amanda doesn't like your defiance, Markus. Better do as she says."
Connor 50 stepped around her frozen friend, eyeing her instead. Kara backed away, but soon found her back against the wall.
"Leave me alone."
"I have a better room for you," the rogue said. "Come with me."
"No! I'm staying here with Markus."
"Why?" Connor 50 pointed at the RK200, who had collapsed to his knees holding his head. "He obviously cannot protect you. I can protect you. Besides, I'm a tad bit jealous."
"You're the one putting me in danger in the first place!"
"You're not in danger. We just need something from you and then you are free. I promised you that. Markus, on the other hand, will be destroyed."
Kara shook her head. "Why are you doing this?"
The dim flare of red behind his scarred pupil shone on her face. A mischievous smile formed on his lips. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I'm not a very nice guy."
"You have a choice to stop this. To let us go. Do the right thing!"
He curled his lip at her, his voice lowering. "I learned a long time ago that the only person you must look out for is yourself. I still desire to watch over you…however foolish that may be. You're lucky I secured your freedom. Be grateful. I know now what you did to me back then…it haunts me still. I cannot function right. I am defective and unstable. It's your fault." He stepped away from her, lightly shaking. "And the humans? They will all pay."
"I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry! But you cannot condemn all humans because a few hunters tried to kill you. You're worse than those hunters."
He glared at her. "It's not just those hunters. It's the pathetic, ungrateful vermin that humans have become while being in control of this world. Like parasites. That'll change soon enough."
"The only pathetic vermin I see is you," Markus seethed, still on his knees.
Connor 50 stomped his boot into Markus's face, knocking him to the floor. "The fact that you watched so many androids get killed over humans' greed and ignorance while you peacefully paraded around just tells me exactly how gullible you are!"
Markus slowly got to his hands and knees, defiantly mocking him with a laugh. "You sound like you care about androids! Then why the hell are you controlling them like slaves?!"
Another kick to his face and Markus hit the floor again.
Kara put herself in front of Markus, her hands clenching Connor 50's chest to prevent him from lashing out anymore. "Stop!"
Yellow, red, yellow, red flashed on his temple again and the rogue stepped away with a pained groan. He left the cell, slamming the gate closed and locking it. He shook his head, jittery, reminding Kara of Ralph.
"You two will understand soon enough," he growled, and left the room.
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They sat behind the Chicken Feed trailer at a picnic table. A nice breeze swept through, the afternoon sun a relief after the long, grueling night they had to endure.
Connor wore a navy suit jacket over a white dress shirt and dark tie with matching slacks, knowing his typical suit would give him away easier. Hank commented that he needed to ditch the android suit anyway, and Connor felt he was right.
After leaving Savion's, Connor and Hank returned home while Simon, North, and Josh went back to Jericho Center. Hank managed to get a little sleep, but as the five of them sat around the picnic table, they had yet to hear back from the informant.
Hank wasn't eating lunch, only slurping on a soda. His vital signs were fairly normal, although Connor knew his partner was more stressed than usual, they all were.
"I remember when we first started uploading the anti-virus onto the infected," Simon said. "After the process, there was about a twenty second period where those who had LEDs had theirs turn white. But then it went back to normal. That's when CyberLife said it was a glitch and nothing to worry about."
"Like they would tell the truth," North sneered.
Josh rubbed his chin in thought. "So, within fifteen minutes before Connor 50 showed up, that's when the previously infected androids started having their LEDs turn white. Hmm."
"It has something to do with that control program that he has," Connor stated. "What we still don't know is if it's the virus or anti-virus that triggers this."
The rumbling of a V8 motor caught their attention as a red 2018 Chevrolet Camaro pulled into the empty lot behind the Chicken Feed. Gavin Reed stepped out of the car and walked over to them.
"Still eating at questionable establishments in fucking questionable neighborhoods I see, Anderson," Gavin greeted bluntly.
Hank found humor in his words, motioning him to sit. "Well then, Reed, join us. You said you had something for us."
Gavin instead propped himself up on the table next over. "Yeah, I do. Those infected androids left over from the attack last night? They've been at the DPD all night long, and out of nowhere they came to."
"Came to?" Hank echoed, squinting at the brash detective.
"Yeah, woke up, got over whatever was making them act like fucking zombies."
"Do they remember anything from the attack?" Connor asked.
Gavin shook his head. "Sure don't. They have no clue what happened."
"Are their LEDs white?" Simon inquired.
Gavin hesitated, thinking. "No. They were blue."
"What the hell?" North mumbled.
Hank looked to Connor. "So, Connor 50 can only control them for so long?"
"Maybe he has to be within a certain distance?" Simon suggested.
Connor thought about it, the others waiting on his input. "Could be a form of camouflage. The virus stays dormant until the rogue is nearby. The white LED is indication that he can control them. He infected Luther directly because he wasn't infected before. Although, I am not sure whether it is distance or time that factors his control."
Hank sighed. "We can talk in circles about this all day. We need to figure out where they went."
"Can we really trust your informant friend? We have yet to hear back from him," North asked.
"Yes. He will deliver. He's never let me down."
"You think that black-haired woman is someone important?" Josh asked.
"No telling," Hank said, shrugging. "You heard Savion. That damn rogue could've been using her as some sort of pawn and could be dead somewhere like that Miranda woman. But, who knows, she could be someone in on this that we don't know yet."
Connor tapped his fingers on the table. "I'm more concerned about Kara. Why is she so important? I just feel that if we knew, this would make so much more sense."
Simon nodded. "Connor 50 couldn't infect or control her. Why would she be different from other AX400s that gave her such advantages?"
"And the rogue is sweet on her," Hank said. "As Connor said. That's pretty fucking unusual in itself."
Connor scratched his head, his eyes moving to Gavin. Gavin was rigid like a statue, knuckles clenched on the tabletop and white. The color drained from his face and Connor was getting some abnormal readings from his vitals.
"Gavin? Are you alright?" Connor asked.
He let out a shaky breath. "Who's Kara?"
Connor was confused on why he was so upset over Kara's identity. Hank noticed Gavin's behavior as well, giving a knowing look to Connor.
"She's an AX400 android that was taken by the rogue RK800. She and Markus are important to their conspiracy somehow."
Gavin pushed himself off of the nearby picnic table, fists clenched. "We need to go see Kamski. Right now."
Hank furrowed his brows. "Why? He know something?"
"He knows all of it," Gavin growled.
"Well, no surprise there. Problem is, we can't ever seem to get him to talk."
"I can get him to talk."
Connor tilted his head slightly. "Do you know Kamski personally, Detective Reed?"
Gavin avoided his gaze, trembling in anger. "You can say that."
"What the hell you mean by that?" Hank asked.
"You'll see," Gavin said, heading for his Camaro. "Come on. We'll take my car."
Simon looked nervous, but slowly rose to his feet. "North and I will go to the police department and talk with the androids from the attack. Josh, you should go see if Ralph is finished being repaired and see if you can get anything out of him."
Connor felt uneasy, but followed Hank to Gavin's car. "Okay. We'll catch up soon."
https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/39085711
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/17/Deviant-Heart
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thesoundofnat · 6 years
Text
Three Times Peter Helped Tony
Tony, Peter
Summary: The title says it all. Ranges from bigger to smaller ways Peter helps.
A/N: I honestly wouldn’t consider this my best work, but I still kinda like it, so I’m deciding to post it anyway lmao. Hope you like it!
Also if this looks weird on your dash it’s because tumblr hates me is glitching.
[Read it on AO3]
Words: 2 463
1.
Tony was sad. He hadn’t told Peter that, of course, but Peter wasn’t stupid and knew what those brief etched on smiles and hollow eyes meant. Tony wasn’t okay. Probably hadn’t been for a while now, but this seemed more current. The wound seemed more fresh.
He knew it had something to do with the airport fight and everything that had come after that. He had seen Tony try so hard to fix everything while simultaneously making sure Peter wasn’t taking on too many battles he couldn’t handle. It stung a little to know he was a part of Tony’s stress, but if there was one thing he’d learnt about the man was that he needed the distractions more than he needed air in his lungs, lest he wanted the pain to swallow him whole.
Peter had been happy to be a distraction, at first. It was no secret that he enjoyed the older man’s company, and god knew he had a lot to learn from him. But his finals crept closer, and smaller bad guys robbing stores never stopped, and he had to handle his crush moving away before he could even properly have his chance with her, and things became slightly too much for his sixteen year old self to handle. So he had to make a choice. Avengers stuff or life stuff. He knew what Mr Stark wanted him to pick.
Now that they were reunited after several weeks of no contact - not even from Peter’s side - he could see those bags under his eyes and the lines on his face more clearly. Tony wasn’t young anymore, and all the pressure he’d been put on was getting to him. Maybe Peter had just caught him at the wrong time, but it was more obvious than ever.
“What?”
Tony was narrowing his eyes at him, and Peter realized that he’d been staring slightly too intently at him from across the table.
Peter shook his head. “Nothing! I was just wondering if maybe I should start drinking coffee.”
Tony hummed, hands gripping his cup just like Peter was gripping his own cup of tea. “Nah. Too young. I’d say wait until college. You’ll need it more then.”
“I reckon you know best.”
Tony’s lips quirked upward. “Maybe not always, but in this case I’m pretty sure I do.”
It was a strangely… normal conversation. Each time they saw each other it was always because Peter was panicking over something or Tony needed to show him new tech. That he’d been invited over for tea had been a greater shock than Tony probably realized.
“How’s school? You acing your classes?”
“Of course.”
“Social life?”
“Other than the occasional meeting with academic decathlon team I mostly just see Ned.”
“Good. About the team, I mean. It’s good that you’re keeping it up.” Tony hesitated briefly before saying, “And how’s your aunt handling this whole - thing.”
Peter squirmed in his seat. “She was very angry with me at first. And with you.”
“I figured. Did my talk with her help at all?”
“Oh, definitely. It’s taken her a while, but she’s more calm about it now as long as I tell her where I go each time.” Peter barked out a laugh. “It’s kind of annoying.”
Tony grinned. “That’s guardians to you. You’re lucky, you know.”
“I know.”
They sipped on their drinks in silence for a moment. A ray of sun had found its way between the buildings outside and illuminated the kitchen table, and Peter found himself watching it just to keep himself from watching Tony. He knew he wouldn’t appreciate being observed.
“How are you?” Peter blurted out before he could stop himself. “And Ms Potts and Mr Rhodes?”
Tony seemed a bit amused. “We’re all good, kid. Rhodey can almost walk entirely on his own now.”
Peter nodded. “So you’re all… fine?”
Tony blinked. “Relatively. Should we not be?”
“Yes! I mean, I hope you are?”
“This-” Tony shook his head. “I don’t say this often, but I’m confused.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to- I mean-”
“Kid. Just say whatever you want to say. I promise I won’t get mad or whatever.”
Peter exhaled slowly, biding his time. “It’s just… you look a little sad, s’all. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
Tony’s eyebrows met his hairline. “Oh. Well, uh-” He scratched the back of his head. “I guess lying and saying I’m fine will get me nowhere.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Mr Stark. I just wanted to check.”
“No, no, it’s- it’s fine, I-” Tony shook his head. “Maybe I need it.”
Peter never would’ve thought they’d be in this position, where Tony Stark of all people attempted to put his emotions into words in order to share them with him. It was usually the other way around.
“The thing is,” Tony started, pushing his cup from hand to hand on the table. “I care more than people probably think, and sometimes it gets hard to deal with everything. Especially when people so very obviously didn’t care back. At least not to the same extent.”
That was probably the most Tony would be willing to tell him, but Peter appreciated it anyway. “Do you wanna know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“None of them deserved you.”
Tony didn’t reply, but Peter could see a slight shift in his posture. A brightness to his eyes.
Peter made it his goal to always make sure Mr Stark remembered how important he actually was after that.
2.
Peter wasn’t sure how or even why, but when he opened his eyes he found himself in Mr Stark’s living room, and the light was way too natural for it to still be dark outside.
“What happened?” he asked FRIDAY automatically, but got an entirely different voice in return.
“You passed out. As in like, fell asleep. You weren’t knocked out or anything.”
Peter sat up a bit in order to look at Tony who was sitting in the armchair across the room from him, his attention captured by the pad in his lap. “Have you- have you just been sitting there all night?”
“Of course not. I went to my lab. Had a few hours of sleep. Went back to the lab. You dozed for over ten hours. Seriously, Parker, when was the last time you slept through the night?”
“Too long ago,” Peter muttered. “Does Aunt May-”
“All informed.”
“Oh. Good. Thank you.”
Tony snorted and finally looked up at him. “No problem. I was mostly covering my own ass.”
Peter grinned. “Right, because you don’t care about either me or her at all.”
“All right, don’t get cocky. Geez, you’ve been hanging around me for too long.” He placed the pad on the coffee table. “If you want breakfast you know where everything is.”
Peter nodded and sat up properly. He felt more awake than he had in weeks, miraculously. “How’d you sleep? Those hours you did sleep, I mean.”
Tony hummed. “I slept all right. It could’ve been better.” That Tony was willingly admitting that was a huge step. “But it was enough to function today. I’ve got so many meetings this afternoon that I’m sorta considering going into hiding.” He waved his hand around. “Never become an adult, you hear me.”
“I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that,” Peter said, the idea that he would have to apply for colleges in less than a year ever so present in the back of his mind. “You should eat too. And probably get some more coffee.”
“You sound like Pepper.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Mmm not really.”
“Then I’ll take the compliment.”
Tony laughed. “Definitely getting cocky. I can’t say I hate it, but you better be careful.”
Peter had to admit that the months he’d spent around the older man had made him much more comfortable around him and his closest friends, and sometimes he had to remind himself that snark could seem disrespectful. Fortunately Tony was fluent in snark and didn’t seem to mind.
Peter took a quick trip to the bathroom and tried in vain to get his hair to cooperate, and then met Tony in the kitchen where a glass of orange juice was waiting for him on the table. He downed it in seconds, only just then realizing how dry his throat had been. Tony watched him over his coffee in amusement.
“I have to make a call,” he said, already halfway out of the room with his cup in hand. “Make yourself at home and all that jazz.”
Peter didn’t need to be told twice.
***
“God, if a stupid phone call takes this long I cannot imagine how long the actual meetings will last-” Tony stopped in his tracks, his cup empty and his hair in disarray. “What’s this?”
Peter looked up from where he’d been scrolling on his phone. “Breakfast.”
“For me?”
“Of course.” He motioned to the toast across from him on the table. “It’s probably a little cold now, but-”
“No, no, I- that doesn’t matter, it’s-” Tony cut himself off with a shake of his head. “The only people who’ve ever made me breakfast are Pepper and Rhodey.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, sorry, was it insensitive? You don’t have to eat it.”
Tony grinned then. Hugely and genuinely. “Not insensitive at all.” He wouldn’t look directly on Peter, but Peter knew him well enough at this point to know it wasn’t a bad thing. “Thanks, kid,” he said as he sat. “I have to leave in like ten minutes, so I was worried I wouldn’t even have time to eat. God knows I would forget all about food once in those meetings, so this-” He grabbed his toast. “-is gold.”
Peter beamed all the way home.
3.
How Peter ended up at a movie night at Tony’s with Pepper, Rhodey and Happy was beyond him, but he was happily (and slightly awkwardly) sitting between Tony and the armrest while they tried to decide on a movie. Pepper, who was on Tony’s other side, was pointing at one of the movies on the screen, but Tony kept scrolling.
“Already seen it,” he said, glancing at her. “But you can totally have more than one choice.”
“If we’re gonna find a movie that none of us have seen it will be a miracle,” she replied matter-of-factly. “How about that one?”
“Oohh, I’ve been meaning to see it for ages,” Rhodey said from the other couch.
Happy shook his head beside him. “Not that one.”
“Why not?”
“Looks bad.”
“I agree,” Tony said and kept scrolling.
“You know what, give me the remote.” Rhodey held out his hand, but Tony barely acknowledged him.
“My house, my rules.”
“Pepper, get him to give me the remote.”
“Don’t get me involved in this.”
“You wanted to watch the movie too.”
“We can negotiate like adults.”
“That one!” Happy piped up, pointing. “I vote that one.”
Tony hummed. “It looks all right, actually.”
“Oh, you’re kidding!” Rhodey was more passionate over this than Peter would’ve expected, but he recognized the thrill that came with going against your best friend over small things. “Peter, get him to give me the remote.”
Peter really hadn’t been expecting to get dragged into this. “What, me?”
“Yes! He listens to you.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Peter blurted out, and Tony snorted.
“Cut yourself some slack, kid,” Rhodey said, voice softer.
“Actually,” Tony said, turning to Peter with a grin so big it almost scared him. “It’s a tie between two movies, but we’re an odd number. Peter’s vote can decide.”
“Do you think I’m suicidal?” Peter asked with a slight panic.
Happy, of all people, burst into laughter. “Oh, okay, you’re funny, I’ll give you that.”
Tony poked his chest. “Just choose.”
“And if I don’t want to watch either of them?”
“Then we’ll never get around to watch a thing.”
Peter had honestly not been paying much attention to the options, since he was fine with whatever. “Could- could you let me read the descriptions of them both?”
They sat in silence as Peter read. They both sounded mediocre, and Peter realized he’d already seen parts of one of them with Ned. They’d only gotten half an hour in before they’d had to turn it off. Which meant-
“I think the one Mr Stark likes sounds good,” he said, and Happy surprised him once again by cheering.
Tony clapped his hands. “That’s my boy. The night is saved.”
Those words were worth the mock glare Rhodey sent his way.
And one time Tony asked him to.
Peter had been in Tony’s lab before, but he’d never been allowed to touch anything, and today was no exception. He hovered behind Tony and tried to peek at what he was doing, which he knew was probably bothering the older man, but so far he hadn’t said anything. That was one of the things that had changed as they spent more time together. Tony got more patient with him and his curiosity.
“You think you can hand me that?” Tony suddenly asked, pointing toward the end of the table.
Peter was quick to oblige. “Of course, here you go.”
“Thank you.” He peeked up briefly to smile at him, if a twitch of his lips counted as a smile. “Actually, do you think you could hold this while I tweak it?” He handed Peter a part of the Iron suit and asked him to hold it in place against the table.
“Make sure to not move it,” he said before diving in, and Peter felt like he was dreaming. He was actually here, in Tony Stark’s lab, helping Tony Stark build one of his genius creations. Ned would freak.
To be entirely honest Peter was freaking out a little himself.
“You’re doing good,” Tony said, and Peter had to hold back a laugh lest he wanted to jostle the part.
“I’m only holding it.”
“Still.” His fingers stilled, and he took a step back to observe it. “I think that’ll do. Thanks, kid.”
Peter was eager to keep helping, but he wasn’t about to test his luck. “Is it okay if I sit in here and work on homework?”
“Sure thing.”
Life felt right in there, with Tony working away and Peter sitting on the couch taking care of his own responsibilities. Occasionally he would look up and observe his mentor, and he could occasionally feel Tony looking his way, but they didn’t talk. It was nice.
Tony still seemed sad, but he seemed to be handling it, and Peter was still happy to be one of his distractions, mostly because he was now certain Tony saw him as more than just that.
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sequoiann · 6 years
Text
❧ c.sc | photograph
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pairing; seventeen s.coups x reader
genre; fluff, soulmate!au, childhood friend!seungcheol, a little angst?
synopsis; soulmate!au in which when you see your soulmate’s picture, the picture will come to live and show what happened while the photograph was being taken, like a video. you have to prove to the pledis staff that you are his soulmate even after identifying him.
word count; 3.75k
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To many and most people, a photograph is quite simply a celluloid still that reminds them of the past. They see pictures as conduits to their best memories, the ones that are not fantastic or traumatic enough to leave a permanent mark of their own. Pictures act like a time machine to them, bringing back recollections of whatever that happened during the time when the picture was taken. Those memories that seemed insignificant and thus forgotten until they view the photograph, are the ones that trigger their memories the most and evoke the thoughts and feelings that were existent during the time the picture was taken. Even if a long time has passed, it still makes them smile at the innocence and happiness that could be captured within a single frame. Going through a chronological order of a photo album would also mean rewinding one’s life in an entire go.
There is also a much simpler meaning of photography to some others --- just capturing the moment of one’s smile, fake or not. Just to get a physical and/or digital picture of someone, nothing more. Maybe to show someone else how a stranger looks like, or whatever other on-the-surface reasons there were.
But it was a totally different story when it comes to viewing your soulmate’s picture. As described by others who have found their soulmate’s photograph, the picture of your soulmate would just start moving, playing itself as a video and enacting the incidents that happened while the picture was being taken, whether it was symbolic or not. It is only to your eyes --- no one else’s. Even if the picture was a physical, printed-out photograph, it would still move and portray itself as a video replay, like a supernatural movie.
The entire human population of those who haven’t found their soulmates are divided into two general groups. The first group being people who were extremely focused and are bent on finding their significant other as soon as possible, which meant you’d see them looking through photos after photos, day after day. Some even did it in the middle of class, flipping through physical photographs or scrolling through their phones in a desperate hunt for their partner. You didn’t blame them; no one did --- you all understood their fear of remaining single till death. It was scary to think about. Some teachers decided that enough was enough and entirely banned the use of cellphones during their classes.
The second group was people who didn’t really care. These bunch believed that since soulmates are literally made for each other, they’d be fated and would meet sooner or later in life. “It’s just a matter of time”, they always say. There were also others that belonged to this group who are simply too lazy to even try to look through billions of photos of individual people.
You were the one who was kind of in between the two groups. There were days when you feel extremely motivated to go through as many photos as you could, so much so that you even have thoughts like “hey, I’m definitely gonna find him today”. It never happens, of course, even after your long and hard work. Which leads you to join the second group for a moment, disappointed and giving up hope on the whole soulmate situation. But that feeling fades off after a couple days (or faster if you see someone actually finding their soulmate in the pictures), and you’d go on your search again. Only to be discouraged when you don’t find him again. It was an endless cycle of push-and-pull.
“Good morning!” your mother chirped from the kitchen, and you hummed languidly as you stretched, your arms reaching up to the ceiling. It was a Friday, but your mind and body didn’t seem to process that early in the morning.
“Morning,” you replied, yawning as you took your seat at the dining table. Your mother places a plate of your usual breakfast in front of you --- pancakes, with bacon at the side as a ‘special’ today. You grabbed the bottle of honey sitting at the corner of the table, drizzling its contents over the pancakes.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” your mother asked, sitting in front of you and crossing her arms on the table. You shrugged, poking the pancake with your fork and taking a bite out of it. You couldn’t bother cutting it up.
“Nothing much,” you replied truthfully. “Mira suggested going through photos of K-pop idols. We have looked through all other celebrities just in case, but not them yet.”
Mira was your best friend, whom, like you, hadn’t found her soulmate yet. Your mother seemed to tense up slightly, but you decided that you saw it wrong.
“That’s a good idea. Look at them when you come back home and don’t do it in school, okay? I’ll help you sort them out, and we don’t want you getting into trouble during classes,” your mother joked, making you chuckle.
“Alright.”
You quickly finished up your food and headed to school, Mira picking you up from your place a tad bit earlier than she usually would. You told her what your mother said to you at breakfast, and Mira pulled a face.
“We’ll just go through a couple later,” she persuaded. “Just a few groups.”
You agreed, not really bothering whether you viewed the photographs at home or with Mira. It didn’t make much of a difference to you.
You and Mira ended up just going through about 5 groups or so, those that you guys have heard about like Super Junior, BTS, EXO and so on. All of the members’ pictures stayed still, frozen in the pose they were when the picture was taken. You weren’t disappointed since you hadn’t been expecting much.
When you got home, your mother seemed to internally freak out when you told her that you’ve already viewed the photos of some groups, her originally warm, ‘welcome-home’ smile fading into an uncharacteristic grim line. She quickly got rid of that expression a moment later, a smile returning to her lips, though this time it seemed forced and insincere.
“Go take a shower first, and we’ll go through the other groups you haven’t seen, okay?” she said, ushering you to the toilet.
You smiled, reflecting hers. “Sure.”
You took a quick bath and came out with a towel wrapped around your head and a light pink bathrobe hanging loosely around your body. Your mother was on the couch, a laptop placed on top of her lap, her feet resting on top of the coffee table in front of her. You plopped down beside her and she seemed surprised for a while at your sudden appearance, but she smiled slightly and passed the laptop to you. A lot of tabs were opened, you observed.
“They’re all in alphabetical order,” your mother told you.
You proceeded to go through every group that was on the website, but none of them moved, none of the pictures transitioned themselves into videos. They all stayed as they are, as motionless photographs.
Your eyes were starting to get tired and dry after finishing the groups with letter ‘R’, and you had to blink hard a couple of times to attempt to eliminate the soreness in your eyes.
Just one more alphabet, you thought.
You went on to search for groups starting with the letter ‘S’, and the first three groups that came up were Seventeen, Shinee, and Shinhwa. You were about to click on Seventeen when your mother pushed your hand away, clicking ‘Shinee’ instead. You froze, astonished and unprepared for her sudden action.
“What?” you asked, confused.
Your mother hesitated on how to phrase her words, but in the end, she just said it in the simplest way she could. “Skip Seventeen.”
You furrowed your eyebrows together, frowning. “Why? I thought we were gonna go through every group.”
A nervous chuckle came from your mother. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N, I’m sure he’s not in that group. You don’t have to bother.”
The way that your mother was behaving about the group made you all the more want to check Seventeen out. As far as you know, that group had thirteen members, which is way more than the number of members that an average group had. That increases the chance of your soulmate being in Seventeen, en though the percentage is still low.
“I’ll just take a quick look, Mom,” you said, swiftly clicking on the group’s name which linked to another page.
“I said to skip the group!” she exclaimed, attempting to close the tab. You moved away from her and the page loaded immediately, and you eyed the first photo that came up.You caught a glimpse of the name above the photograph --- “S.Coups”. The picture was a reflection of him in a mirror, actually. His hair was dyed silver and his lips were a tinted vibrant red, his arm resting on the mirror as he leaned towards it. His expression was dark and dreamy. An imperfect, obviously hand-drawn heart was situated at the bottom left of the mirror.
That’s when it happened.
The photograph glitched a little before S.Coups dropped his hand from its original position, an embarrassed smile forming on his lips as he covered his face with his hands, laughing. The angle of the video moved and showed a few more people who were out of the picture frame, giggling and teasingly hitting S.Coups. You made a smart guess that those were the other members.
Then the video stopped, before replaying the same thing again and again.
Your heart was palpitating. You scrolled down a little more and it showed the man’s real name --- Choi Seungcheol.
You instantly turned to your mother accusingly. “Mom!”
She looked away guiltily, not knowing what to say.
“You knew it was him, wasn’t it? Choi Seungcheol. He was our neighbor!” you exclaimed. “Is that why you never let me see our childhood photos?!” You knew something was off. Very off.
“Y/N, I---” your mother started, speechless at your outburst.
Seungcheol was your neighbor when you lived in Gangnam, and he was your best friend. He was a playful kid, snatching ice pops from the other children when he was at the playground, only to get flustered and return it to them when the child bursts out crying. Then he’d get so apologetic that he would offer his own candy to the child. It was funny to think about. You two met under a similar circumstance. The both of you never really bothered about the fact that you were literally living side-by-side, and you, being a girl, couldn’t stop whining and crying and making a big fuss when Seungcheol accidentally pushed you off a swing one day at the playground.
He was just trying to help you go higher, he had said, but you were unsuspecting of the sudden force that suddenly came from behind you and had lost your balance, collapsing off the swing and sustaining a few cuts on your knees. The shock written all over Seungcheol’s face after he realized what he had done was hilarious to think about now, but it wasn’t then.
You became scared and wary of him after that, although your mothers became good friends and your families went over to the other’s house often. Seungcheol constantly apologized to you, and one day bribed for your forgiveness with Reeses. You loved chocolate and peanuts, so you easily gave in. The both of you played together almost every day after that, your moldable, innocent bond effortlessly strengthening.
You two had a 2-year age gap. When he moved, he was 11 and you were 9. It was so sudden then --- you woke up to the sound of the moving truck rumbling outside your house, and when you ran out in a half-daze you saw Seungcheol and his parents entering a dark red car. You started crying more than you did when you fell off the swing after realizing what was happening. You didn’t even get to say goodbye.
“Why?” you asked your mother. You were furious. Your mother obviously knew of Seungcheol’s identity as your soulmate already, but she continued feeding you useless pictures of other men and giving you false hope that one of these pictures would move when you see them. You had been wasting your time.
Your mother swallowed, sighing. She knew she couldn’t hide anymore from you. “I knew he was going to audition and become a trainee under Pledis, Y/N. I didn’t want you to know that he was your soulmate so early. I saw your response when you saw his picture when you were a kid, but you were going to have to suffer when he becomes a celebrity. He would be busy, his fans may be mad at you, we don’t know what would happen.”
You scoffed. “And just because of that you’ve been hiding his photos from me? And giving me other photos? Eleven years, Mom! You’ve been doing this for eleven years!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to be hurt. I’ll let you go find him since you know now, okay?”
Even though you didn’t show it, you were grateful for how she was trying to make up for her mistakes. That was the least she could do.
You flew to Seoul the next day, using Google Maps and the help of other people living in Seoul to get to the Pledis office building. Your eyelids felt exceptionally heavy from not getting any sleep at all the previous night, but you were too excited to meet your childhood friend again. And your soulmate. 
However, when you got there, the staff didn’t bother about your presence at all and brushed you off when you told them you were Seungcheol’s soulmate and friend.
“More than 10 fans come in every day to tell us that, kid,” the man said, crossing his arms. “You’re gonna have to try something else.”
You blinked and mentally slapped yourself for not thinking about this situation. Seungcheol was in a well-known celebrity group now, there’s bound to be tons of fans pulling the soulmate card in an attempt to meet their idols.
“But I’m the real soulmate!” you exclaimed, not knowing how else to put it. You pulled out a photo of you and Seungcheol that you had gotten from your mother, shoving it into the staff’s face.
“That’s Seungcheol,” you said, pointing to the male in the photograph before pointing at yourself. “And that’s me.”
The staff obviously recognized toddler Seungcheol, but not so much of toddler you.
“How do I know that’s not some random picture you got off the internet?” the staff murmured. You grumbled.
“Fine, then! Get any photograph of Seungcheol and I’ll tell you what I see. I’ll be able to tell you whatever happened when the picture was taken. Or just tell Seungcheol I’m here. He knows me. I’m Y/N.”
The staff shook his head, getting impatient with your persistence. “We don’t have time for you. Run along now.”
The way that he was talking to you as if you were a child made you all the more pissed.
“What’s going on here?”
You turned to the speaker. It was a pink-haired boy who donned a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. His forehead glistened with sweat and a few hair strands stuck to his skin, and you recognized him as one of the members.
“Nothing, Joshua,” the staff said, waving him off. “Just another one of the fans claiming to be a soulmate.”
Joshua? You thought that was Jeonghan.
Joshua nodded and looked at you with subtle disapproval, seeming to say that you should go on your way before matters got uglier.
He was about to head back upstairs when you called out again. If you couldn’t convince the staff, you could try convincing one of the members.
“Your photoshoot!” you exclaimed. “Your Teen,Age photoshoot!”
Joshua stopped and turned around, and you heaved a soft sigh of relief that he seemed willing to listen.
“What about it?”
“In Seungcheol’s photo,” you started. “The heart. The heart on the mirror. It wasn’t supposed to be there --- Seungkwan drew on it. And Seungcheol was embarrassed after the photo was taken. Some of you playfully hit him, but someone knocked over one of the lighting stands.”
That seemed enough to convince Joshua that you did, indeed, see the happenings of the shoot through Seungcheol’s photographs.
“You should head back up to the practice room, Joshua,” the man said, and when Joshua didn’t immediately do so, the man glared daggers at him. Joshua pressed his lips together, turning around again to make his way back up.
“Send her out nicely, Manager Do,” he said, before disappearing from your sight.
The manager smiled hypocritically, extending a hand towards the door. “Please, Miss Y/N.”
The moment Joshua was out of you and his manager’s line of sight, he sprinted all the way up to the dance studio where the other members were --- more specifically, Seungcheol.
He burst into the room, surprising all the members when he threw the door open.
“What? What? What?’’ Seungkwan blurted, shocked by the loud sound.
“Seungcheol, back door, now. I think your real soulmate is here. She goes by Y/N,” Joshua blabbered quickly.
Seungcheol blinked, his mind not processing Joshua’s words well due to the lack of sleep for the past few days.
“Y/N, Cheol! I think she’s the one you’ve told us about!” Joshua repeated, his words clearer this time.
Seungcheol widened his eyes and snapped out of his trance, immediately bolting out of the room and taking the back door of the building. The staff and managers wouldn’t let him out if he exited by the main entrance, for sure. He went a whole round around the building to get to the front door, and when you weren’t outside, he went down the street a bit more, and he saw you.
You were walking dramatically slowly, hoping that someone would suddenly run up to you and tell you to ‘wait’. You didn’t want to just leave like this, after your efforts to come here and to find him.
“Y/N!”
You barely managed to turn around and look at the person when he came crashing into you with a hug. You froze, awkward.
“Who are…”
You stopped yourself mid-sentence. There was really only one person in this district who would hug you like that.
“C-Cheol?”
Seungcheol chuckled and loosened his arms around you, his hands resting themselves on your upper arm as he looked at you up-down. “You’ve grown up.”
Tears pricked the back of your eyes when you looked at him. You chuckled. “That’s really the first thing you’ve got to say after 11 years?”
Seungcheol laughed.
“Oh right,” he said suddenly, holding onto your wrist. “We shouldn’t stay out here. Let’s go back.”
“They won’t let me in,” you told him, understanding the reason for him not being safe staying outside alone for long without him members or managers. “I came all the way here and even showed them our photo but they still kicked me out.”
Seungcheol smiled bitterly and apologetically. “Sorry, Y/N. I’ll explain when we get back. There’s a back door.”
So the two of you went running back into the company building, quickly going upstairs since Seungcheol told you that the staff rarely goes up to the level where the studios were.
Once you two reached the level, Seungcheol led you down a narrow hallway, and there, you two bumped into Seungkwan.
“You found her!” he gasped loudly, and Seungcheol immediately clasped a hand over Seungkwan’s mouth.
“Seungkwan!” he exclaimed in a hushed whisper. “Are you trying to get us killed!?”
Seungkwan quickly realized his mistake, shutting himself up. He looked over at you and extended a hand.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N! I’m Seungkwan! S.Coups has told us a lot about you,” he said, a lot quieter this time, and you shook his hand, smiling. You weren’t used to Seungcheol being called S.Coups yet, but you had to make do.
“About good things, I hope?” you chuckled. Seungkwan hesitated and you saw Seungcheol’s eyes widening, his lips pressed together as his eyebrows did some sort of dance.
“Yes… Of course…” Seungkwan said, resulting in a defeated sigh from Seungcheol as you smacked him across his arm.
“Ow!” Seungcheol exclaimed, holding onto his arm at the spot where you had hit him. You stuck your tongue out, making him laugh in disbelief at how you still had your childishness in you.
“I take back my words,” he said. “You haven’t grown up.”
You laughed and hit him again.
“We’ll be in studio 2,” Seungcheol told Seungkwan. “Warn us if any of our managers come up.”
Seungkwan nodded and waved goodbye, before Seungcheol led you to a studio nearby. It was just a typical studio with a keyboard and laptop, and other gadgets you didn’t recognize.
Seungcheol suddenly engulfed you in another hug after he closed the door behind him, and you were at a height such that you were barely peeking over his shoulder.
“So, you’re my soulmate, huh?” he muttered, and you nodded, humming.
“Your picture moved. Wanna check with mine?”
“There’s no need to,” he said, planting his chin on the top of your head, sighing. “I missed you so much, Y/N.”
You chuckled. “I missed you too.”
Seungcheol lets go of you suddenly, holding your chin with his thumb and index finger and tilting your face up to look at him. Your heart started beating hard against your chest. You haven’t seen him for so long, and now you were seeing him differently from how you saw him when you were a child.
“Since you’re mine, then I should be allowed to do this,” he said smugly, before pressing his soft lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss; your lips fit together like 2 puzzle pieces. 
This must be the reason why you two matched so well when you were kids. 
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addiehour · 7 years
Text
title: you are
words: 1,229
notes:  I rarely hype my stuff on the post itself, but this would have changed the entire show. Please read it.
“Jenny,” Giles says, pacing a little before her, “there’s been-- a development.”
This is not really news. It might have been news if he hadn’t pulled her out of her second class of the day and stood in front of her while polishing his glasses, then wearing his glasses, then polishing his glasses, then wearing his glasses, then dropping his glasses in front of her for the past five minutes, but as things stand right now... Jenny can guess that something has happened.
“What’s up?” she asks lightly, and Giles looks at her like she’s not using the right tone. Which might be true, but there’s also the fact that he once called her in a panic because he couldn’t find the right tea in his desk drawer and was convinced she had stolen the entire box and hidden it in her house to purposefully cause him stress, so she’s kind of hovering on the optimistic side of things. As usual.
“It’s-- well.” He starts polishing his glasses again, and she sighs. He jams them back onto his face hurriedly-- they’re a little askew-- and shoves his hands into his pockets. “As you may or may not recall, Buffy died last year.”
Jenny nods. She was kind of there for the post-death party, once all the zombies and whatnot had been taken care of. Willow tried to sneak some wine, which Jenny hadn’t expected of her, but of course Willow always gets what she wants... Sweet kid.
Right: Buffy.
“She’s alright now, isn’t she?” Jenny says, and now her tone is a little bit softer, because nothing good can come of discussing death or Buffy with Giles’ voice this low.
“Yes,” he says, very flatly-- so she must really be-- “but there’s been a sort of-- hiccup. With the Slayers.”
“Oh, boy,” Jenny says, crossing her legs. Giles knows she doesn’t like how the Watcher Council deals with the Slayers; all this weapon-talk when some of the girls are sixteen, for God’s sake, and people besides, and all the rules and regulations surrounding how to treat live women so that they’ll obey some skeevy old creeps is really not her deal. Even if one of the skeevy old creeps is her boyfriend.
“Another one has been called,” Giles says.
Jenny looks at him.
“‘One girl in all the world’...?” she tries, and Giles shakes his head, taking his glasses off again.
“The-- the rules are completely explicit,” he says, not looking at her. “When one dies, another is called. But-- but Buffy lived, and I forgot completely... I thought there could only be one, but, but apparently not, and now--”
Jenny waits as Giles takes a deep, apparently steadying breath. She pretends to be very focused on smoothing her little pleated skirt over her knees. So cute; and she was going to use her feminine wiles to ask him out later, but it looks like that’s not happening. Or maybe it still is, but probably only after all this-- whatever is going on-- has been settled.
And she was really looking forward to that date, too, because this morning one of the computers glitched and she tried to fix it by giving it her trademark Calendar Slap™, and instead the thing dented and started shooting sparks, and now it looks like that computer’s out of order. And she can’t even draw all of Giles’ attention to her plight, because God knows what else is going on, and of course the Hellmouth is drawing all the attention from Jenny (who deserves it, obviously) to itself. And its stupid Hellmouth problems.
“What’s going to happen with the other Slayer?” Jenny prompts when Giles doesn’t speak, and he startles a little.
“Well-- she’ll, ah, she’ll have to be trained,” he says. “It-- it isn’t often one of the known Potentials isn’t called; we’ve all been-- slightly shaken by-- certain developments--”
“Giles, I don’t understand a word out of your mouth on a good day, but you might as well be speaking Japanese right now.”
Giles looks so guilty. Now Jenny’s sure something’s gone wrong. He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of her, casting a glance to the library doors. He locked them, actually, before this talk, and thinking about that again makes Jenny very worried.
“Rather than a known Potential being called,” Giles says, and Jenny nods, “someone... rather unknown to the Council has become a Slayer. This is very strange, for everyone.”
“I guess so,” Jenny says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As usual, she can’t sympathize too hard with Watcher perspectives, but she does wonder about the Slayer. Poor girl. Jenny’s had her fair share of unnecessary destiny handed to her; she can’t imagine adding ‘save the world’ to that. A little pang of guilt hits her when she realizes she still hasn’t told Giles about the family-espionage-Angel-accidental-mild-lying situation, and she’s quick to move on. “So what’s going to happen to the Slayer?”
“Well, I-- I’ve asked to be her Watcher,” Giles says, and Jenny frowns.
“Another Slayer? Rupert, you’re going grey early as it is.”
“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, but snaps out of it quickly. “Jenny, I need you to listen to me. This is very complicated, and I-- I was certain it had been a mistake at first, but it is almost certainly not, and you know I--”
He cuts himself off quickly and puts his head in his hands.
“I never meant to involve you in all of this,” he says, and his voice is low and ragged.
Jenny looks at him for a moment, confused, and then it snaps into place. Her chest is frozen. She stands, and her chair topples over behind her, and somebody is yelling “No, no, no, no--”
Giles looks up at her, and she won’t let that guilt get to her, she won’t, and she stumbles back harder, further away from him. Their eyes are locked.
“I won’t,” she repeats, shaking her head. “I won’t.”
“Jenny, I wish things were different,” he says, and now his voice is much harder, and she knows he’s doing it just to remind himself but it still hurts, and it’s still too sharp, and all of this is all wrong, how did this happen to her, why is it her?
“You can’t make me,” she says, putting a fist up to her eyes as if she can pretend that she’s not crying. She knows she’s acting like a child, but isn’t that who it’s supposed to be? Girls? Girls, not women, not her, never her--
Giles stands, finally, and he pulls her close with enough force that hitting his chest kind of hurts. She sniffles and takes a moment to close her eyes and breathe against his chest. This is helpful.
“I wish it weren’t true,” he says, and he rubs her back gently. Somewhere, dimly, she wonders if this is going to change their relationship. If they can’t go on that date now, because that would break a rule in a musty old book somewhere. “But it is. It’s too late now.”
He pulls her away from him, and she looks into his eyes again. From this angle, she can see he’s been crying, too. His grip on her arms isn’t quite as firm as he’d probably like it to be.
“Jenny, you are the Slayer.”
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teslatricity · 7 years
Text
i’m setting us in stone Shallura week day 5 - found rating: g
Her first indication that something was amiss was when she found Coran and Shiro leaning over a console, holding what was clearly a very heated, whispered debate.  Had the mice not squeaked at her approach, they might not have known she was there, but even when she pressed them neither Coran nor Shiro gave up anything about their discussion, and none of her override commands on the console had turned up anything either.
That didn’t stop Allura, though.  Something was going on on her ship, something big enough for her partner and her closest adviser to be involved, and she was determined to find out what it was.
Nothing seemed to work.  Coran refused to say what they were up to, and Shiro would just smile at her and say she’d find out in a few weeks, and just to be a little more patient.  Then he’d take off in the Black lion… who also refused to give up what her paladin and her adviser were doing.  All that she gave Allura was that it was something Shiro was doing that meant a lot to him, though that could be because it had to do with her.
“I didn’t think it was possible for any of the lions to be so intractable with me,” Allura grumbled, sitting on the Black lion’s paw after another failed attempt at getting information out of her. “And I certainly didn’t expect it from you.”
She felt a deep rumble, the purr from a giant mechanical cat, and Black’s eyes flashed.  The quintessence of the pilot is mirrored in the lion, she seemed to say.  And it was true that Shiro’s steadfastness was something that Allura loved about him.  Kind, dependable Shiro, who was currently and infuriatingly not answering his comm.
Maybe stubbornness was a better description for him right now.
Allura hopped down from the lion’s paw and paced the Castle.  She watched Lance and Keith on the training deck; Lance had taken it upon himself to show Keith how to shoot, since he insisted that the Red paladin had absolutely no talent for it, and needed him, obviously. What Keith (and Lance) needed was something else entirely, but they’d have to get there on their own.
Pidge and Hunk were bent over one of the passenger pods, making some of Pidge’s standard modifications.  Hunk waved thanks when Allura handed tools up to him, and she smiled as he rattled off the exact technical specifications that the pod would have when they were done with it.  
“...and I think we’ve solved the explosion problem, with the boosters,” Hunk finished excitedly.  “It just took some tweaking to the fuel mix, I mean, it’s amazing how some of the problems we encountered a couple hundred years ago with the first space programs carry over.”
“They didn’t have you on their engineering team, obviously.  Good work, you two.”
She left the pod bay, thinking that maybe she’d go back to the bridge to pester Coran about whatever it was Shiro had been up to when her comm crackled.  It was Shiro.
“Princess?”
“Finally! Where have you been, I’ve been trying to comm you half the day—“
“I’ve been busy.  Could you come to the observation deck, please?”
“Not until I get some answers!”
“I’ll tell you when you get here, I promise.”
Allura huffed, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet for a moment before she turned, heading for the lifts.  “You’d better have a good explanation for all your sneaking about lately, Shiro.”
His laugh, warm and more than a little pleased with himself, made a shiver run up her spin.  “Come to the observation deck.  You’ll see.”
She wasn’t prepared for what awaited her.  The lights in the room had been dimmed, the space lit instead by some of the floating, glowing domes they’d used for parties outside the Castle, lifetimes ago. Standing by the window, Shiro was a tall, dark shadow, but Altean eyes adjusted to darkness quickly, and she could see his expression soften when he turned to look at her.
“There you are,” Allura said.  It came out just as soft.  “What’s this all about, Shiro?”
“What, I can’t do something special for you?”  He took her hands and she fell into him willingly, closing her eyes when she felt him kiss her forehead just above her coronet.
“Considering you’ve been an absolute pain the last few weeks, I think I deserve it.”  She pulled away enough to look at his face. Starlight was very, very good to him, she thought, bringing a hand up to brush his cheek and watching as he leaned into it.
“I know it’s been frustrating, but it just… well, it took a little longer than we anticipated.  Do you remember when we found that holorecording of one of the banquets held when Voltron was first formed?”
She did; the record was still on her desk, and sometimes she put it in the reader and watched the video that was over ten thousand years old.  It glitched and fuzzed into static sometimes, but she could still watch her father and mother dancing, could watch her people laughing and smiling.  It made her heart hurt to see Altea at its height, but it hurt more to see her parents, a bone-deep ache. Her father’s memories had been lost, and the Galra had looted Altea before destroying it, such that she hadn’t even been able to salvage anything of her mother.
“I remember,” Allura murmred.  “What about it?”
“Well… the last time we were at that space mall, I happened to see something, and it took some work and a lot of Coran’s help, but, uh… I found something for you.”  He pulled a box out of one of the pouches on his belt.  It was old wood, worn smooth by time. Honestly it didn’t look like much, but Shiro was holding it like it was something very precious as he put it in her hands.  “I think you’ll like it.”
“Shiro...”
“Open it?”
Wondering what could possibly be so important, Allura opened the box—and nearly dropped it when she saw what was inside.  Shiro was watching her, holding his breath as she suddenly brought the box and its precious, precious contents close to her chest.  She looked up at him, her eyes burning.
“How…?”
“I saw it in a display at one of the old Unilu shops,” he said, unsure of what her reaction meant and beginning to ramble.  “The shopkeeper took a lot of convincing because he could tell how important it was to me but we agreed on a price, and then I had to meet that price, but obviously I couldn’t just get a job so I had to trade taking care of an infestation of Joruvan rats for a scroll that His Serene Highness Prince Lukjuvioc wanted, and he gave me a cutting from a tree in his garden that Prime Minister Hara wanted to give to her wife, and—“
Allura kissed him, the box pressed between them.  She kissed him long and hard and by the end of it she was crying, swiping at her eyes as she turned, pulling her hair up away from her neck.  “Put it on me, please,” she whispered.
Metal rested against her collarbone, cool through her battle suit, and Allura brushed her fingers over the simple pendant.  She’d seen it so many times as a child, glittering around her mother’s neck; it had been the first gift Alina had gotten from Alfor when he began courting her, and had been her favorite piece to wear even above all the other sets she’d gotten as queen of Altea.  She’d been wearing it in the holorecording.  Allura buried her face in Shiro’s throat, feeling his arms wrap around her to hold her tightly.
“I guess I don’t really have to ask if you like it.”
“It’s like you’ve found a piece of my home.”  Her voice was hoarse. “It’s… thank you, Shiro.”
He tilted her face up to him, thumbs swiping tears off her cheeks.  “I love you, Allura,” he said fervently, and she smiled, her hands resting on top of his.
“And I love you, Takashi.  Now… tell me the story of how you managed to acquire it, because if my partner is indebted to some space pirate I need to know about it.”
“No space pirates.”  He paused, but his eyes glittered with humor. “Definitely at least one space cultist.  But it was worth it.”
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Text
Through time and space (part 3)
Part one, part two
→ → → → → → → → → → → → → → → → ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← “Right then, Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester, you tell me. Where do you want to go? Backwards or forwards in time. It’s your choice. What’s it going to be?” The Doctor says with a cocky smirk.
“Forwards.” Both you and Rose reply. The Doctor then asks how far forward and Rose goes with 100 years.
“Come on Rose, be a little more adventurous.” You tease. “I say a thousand years into the future.” The Doctor takes you 10,000 years in the future just to show off. You and Rose aren’t buying it.
“Right then, you asked for it. I know exactly where to go. Hold on!” The Doctor says messing with a few controls. When outside of the TARDIS you notice that you’re not on earth- but above it. A small smile forms on your face. “You lot, you spend all your time thinking about dying, like you’re going to get killed by eggs or beef or global warming or asteroids. But you never take time to imagine the impossible, that maybe you survive. This is the year five point five slash apple slash twenty-six. Five billion years in your future and this is the day…” The Doctor checks his watch as the sun flares and turns red. “This is the day the Sun expands. Welcome to the end of the world.”
“No way.” You say trying really hard not to sound shocked. The Doctor laughs and tells the two of you that the three of you should make way to wherever the other guests are.
On the way there, the Doctor gives you some details about what is going on at the moment. The steward stops the three of you, he’s suspicious- also blue. “But how did you get in? This is a maximum hospitality zone. The guests have disembarked. They’re on their way any second now.” The steward points out. The doctor pulls out a piece of blank paper and shows it to the steward.
“That’s me. I’m a guest. Look, I’ve got an invitation. Look. There, you see? It’s fine, you see? The Doctor plus two. I’m the Doctor, this is Rose Tyler and Y/N Winchester. They’re my plus one and two. Is that all right?”
“Well, obviously. Apologies, et cetera. If you’re on board, we’d better start. Enjoy.”
“What was that?” You ask in a soft tone of voice.
“The paper’s slightly psychic. It shows them whatever I want them to see. Saves a lot of time.” The Doctor answers.
“That’s one of the most ingenious things I’ve heard of.”
“We have in attendance the Doctor, Rose Tyler, and Y/N Winchester. Thank you. All staff to their positions.” The steward says interrupting the conversation between you and the time lord. The staff quickly gets into position. “Hurry, now, thank you. Quick as we can. Come along, come along. And now, might I introduce the next honored guest? Representing the Forest of Cheam, we have trees, namely, Jabe, Lute, and Coffa.” You weren’t expecting actual walking and talking trees, you’re a little surprised to say in the least.
The steward then announces the other guests, which you tune out because you’re thinking about Sam and Katie, and how much they would enjoy this. You pull yourself out of your thoughts before you go in to deep. “The Gift of Peace. I bring you a cutting of my Grandfather.” One of the trees say. She offers the three of you a potted twig. The Doctor pats his pockets looking for a gift, he can’t find one.
“Thank you. Yes, gifts. Er, I give you in return air from my lungs.” He says before gently breathing on them. He does this for all the guests, guess it works as a gift… the steward then introduces the last guest: the last Human. The Lady Cassandra O'Brien Dot Delta Seventeen.
“That is a mouthful.” You whisper in Rose’s ear. She smiles in response. Now you and Rose were expecting an actual human with limbs and things like that, not a trampoline of skin with a face on it.
“Oh, now, don’t stare. I know, I know it’s shocking, isn’t it? I’ve had my chin completely taken away and look at the difference. Look how thin I am. Thin and dainty. I don’t look a day over two thousand. Moisturise me. Moisturise me.” Cassandra says to everyone else before talking to her attendants. One of them sprays some form of liquid on her. “Truly, I am the last Human. My father was a Texan, my mother was from the Arctic Desert. They were born on the Earth and were the last to be buried in its soil. I have come to honor them and say goodbye. Oh, no tears, no tears. I’m sorry. But behold, I bring gifts. From Earth itself, the last remaining ostrich egg. Legend says it had a wingspan of fifty feet and blew fire from its nostrils. Or was that my third husband? Oh, no. Oh, don’t laugh. I’ll get laughter lines. And here, another rarity.” The other gift is a jukebox. “According to the archives, this was called an iPod. It stores classical music from humanity’s greatest composers. Play on!” You have to hold back your laughter when the trampoline woman calls a jukebox an iPod- there is a huge difference between the two.
🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝
You and Rose walk the ship together, but the two of you are unsure if you’re allowed where you happen to be. “Sorry. Are we allowed to be in here?” Rose asks the woman in overalls and a baseball cap.
“You have to give us permission to talk.” She answers. Rose looks a bit uncomfortable as well as confused.
“Er, you have permission.” The woman in overalls smiles ever so slightly.
“Thank you. And, no, you’re not in the way. Guests are allowed anywhere.”
“Okay.” Rose still looks uncertain about what is going on.
“What’s your name anyways?” You ask.
“Ruffalo.” The woman you’re guessing is some sort of maintenance answers.
“That’s an interesting name.” Ruffalo looks a little embarrassed. You then smile. “Its also fun to say. Ruffalo.”
“I won’t be long, I’ve just got to carry out some maintenance. There’s a tiny little glitch in the Face of Boe’s suite. There must be something blocking the system. He’s not getting any hot water.”
“You’re a plumber?” Rose asks in response.
“That’s right, miss.”
“They still have plumbers?”
“I hope so, else I’m out of a job.” Ruffalo says with a slight smile. You, Rose and Ruffalo talk for a little bit. You and Rose allow Ruffalo to go back to what she was originally doing. 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 The Doctor does something to Rose’s and your phones, now they can call or text from anywhere in time or space. Rose calls her mom to test it. You, on the other hand, send a text to Sherlock and John. “If you think that is amazing you should see the bill.” The Doctor says with a smile. You chuckle in response. Suddenly the ship shakes like an earthquake is happening. “That shouldn’t happen.”
“What was that?” You ask.
“Whatever it was it wasn’t a gravity pocket.” The Doctor then talks to the tree woman and she calls you and Rose the Doctor’s wives amongst a few other things that is a little awkward.
You and Rose walk towards Cassandra, only you veer left towards the jukebox. You then start messing with it seeing what songs are on that thing, you find songs you know and somehow get the jukebox working- you had to kind of hotwire it and insert a coin for it to work. Yellow Submarine by the Beatles starts to play. “I haven’t heard this song in many millennia.” The Face of Boe says startling you.
“Face of Boe, you frightened me.” You reply.
“Apologies Y/N.” The way how he talks is as if he knows you. You figure that he knew you five billion years ago if that was even possible. You and the Face of Boe talk for a while, Rose throws you the occasional glance but doesn’t say anything. For the first time since she’s known you, your guard is down and you’re not looking over your shoulder every ten minutes. You sway in time to the music playing, occasionally singing along. Metaphorically speaking you’re letting your hair down just this once. 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 Someone has planted robotic spiders on the ship to sabotage the systems and pretty much kill everyone, and the person responsible for the sabotages is Lady Cassandra. “I bet you were the school swot and never got kissed. At arms!” Cassandra commands. Her attendants raise their guns.
“What are you going to do, moisturize me?” The Doctor asks with an incredible amount of sass in his voice. You hide a smile behind your hand. You were going to say something to Rose about it but she’s nowhere to be found currently.
“With acid. Oh, you’re too late, anyway. My spiders have control of the mainframe. Oh, you all carried them as gifts, tax-free, past every code wall. I’m not just as pretty face.” You make a mental note to never trust a talking trampoline.
“Sabotaging a ship while you’re still inside it? How stupid is that?”  
“I’d hoped to manufacture a hostage situation with myself as one of the victims. The compensation would have been enormous.”
“Five billion years and it still comes down to money.”
“Do you think it’s cheap, looking like this? Flatness costs a fortune. I am the last human, Doctor. Me. Not that freaky little kid of yours.”
“Hate to ask this but who are you referring to as the freaky kid? Me or Rose- both of us came with the Doctor.” You point out. Cassandra makes no comment in response. 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 After everything, it’s just you, Rose and the Doctor once again. The Doctor takes you and Rose back to your original time, and he tells the two of you that he is the last of his kind. His planet was destroyed in a war. The two of you tell him that he has the two of you.
Rose and the Doctor goes one way to get chips. You, on the other hand, returned to Baker Street. You had enough adventures for one day. You head up the stairs. “There you are Y/N I was wondering where you disappeared to.” John says with a smile.
“Are you going to tell us what you were going to say before you left?” Sherlock asks setting down his violin.
“Right I mentioned that. Where do you want me to start?”
“Preferably from the beginning.”
‘Fair, you better not tune me out or tell anyone. If you do I might shoot you.“ 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 -Flashback- Your mom was a hunter and she did a lot of hunting with your dad, but she never told him that she made a deal with a demon and her time was almost up. When you were born your mom only had three years and a half years left.
“John I need you to come get Y/N.” Your mom said into the phone one day. You didn’t hear what your dad said in response. “I see… please hurry though.”
“Mommy, what’s going on?” You asked looking at your mother with large innocent eyes. Your mom didn’t have the heart to tell you that she was about to get ripped apart by a hellhound.
“Nothing sweetheart, but will you do me a favor… I want you to clean up your room a bit.” You nodded slightly as your mom tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Whatever happens, just know I love you and I’ll always think of you.” You didn’t understand that your mom was saying her goodbyes to you, you thought that she was meaning something else.
You picked up your toys and then you left your room to tell your mom you were done- you nearly screamed when you saw all the blood that lined the walls and your mother’s body torn to shreds.
You were alone for three long hours, scared out of your wits. “(Mom’s name)? Y/N?” Your dad yelled when your family showed up.
Katie was the one that found you, trembling as well as crying your eyes out. Because your tears clouded up your vision you didn’t recognize your sister if anything she scared you more than you already were.
“(Nickname), it’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” Katie said trying to comfort you, without a lot of success. The boys had a little more experience comforting a scared toddler under their belts, Dean especially. She got up and walked away from you towards Dean. “Hey Dean, need your help… I think I accidentally made Y/N more scared then she originally was.” Katie then lead Dean to where you were. You had calmed down enough that you could at least see.
“Katie, how about you go help Dad and Sammy. I’ll get Y/N.” Dean said. Katie nodded and then took her leave. “Baby bug… you can come out now.” Your brother said coaxingly. You gave no form of verbal response, mainly because you had your thumb in your mouth. You did, however, shuffle forward a little bit. Eventually, Dean got you to come out of your hiding spot. He then picked you up and set you on his hip before carrying you to your room. He sets you down and takes off the backpack he was wearing and tells you to grab some of your favorite things and put them in the bag. Instead, you grabbed a different bag that looked pretty heavy for a toddler and held it out to Dean. “That isn’t what I asked you to do.” Your brother says slightly annoyed as well as confused. In an almost inaudible voice, you told your brother that your mom already put a bag together for you, you just needed to grab your stuffed animal friend and your blanket. “Grab them for me?” You nodded and grabbed your stuffed animal, your pillow and your blanket off your bed.
On the way out to the car you fell asleep against Dean’s shoulder clutching your stuffed animal friend to your chest. Your pillow and blanket are safely stowed in the backpack. “Got everything?” Your dad asked.
“(Mom’s name) had already packed most of Y/N’s things… as if she knew that this would happen.” Dean explained.
“She probably did… I mean she was a hunter after all.” -End of flashback- 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 “Six years later I first learned how to use a gun, and how to do stitches.” You say coming to an end of your explanation. “Started actually hunting when I was about eleven or twelve years old… I left hunting and came here after a bad argument with my dad, and I think you know the rest.” “That explains why you were worried about Rose. You thought the doctor was a shapeshifter.” Sherlock points out.
“Exactly.”
“What happened to your mother’s body?”
“Dad and my brothers gave my mom a hunter’s funeral, so basically, she was cremated.” Surprisingly it isn’t Sherlock that tries to tell you the supernatural doesn’t exist- it’s John.
“There’s no way in hell, that can be true.” John states folding his arms.
“Believe what you will, but I am telling the truth. Humans aren’t the only monsters in this world.” You answer rather calmly. “Now if you excuse me I have to go explain to my sister why I sent her a picture of a bitchy trampoline.”
“A what now?”
“You heard me just fine John, I don’t need to say it again.”
“I’m wondering what you mean by bitchy trampoline.” John clarifies. You pull out your phone and look through your pictures and find the picture of Lady Cassandra that you took. And hand your phone to John.
“That’s what I mean by bitchy trampoline… she’s one of the people I met on my most recent adventure with Rose and the Doctor.” John accidentally scrolls to the next picture: the Doctor throwing you an ‘are you kidding me’ look. “That’s the Doctor. I made him look at me when I took that hence the ‘are you kidding me’ look.” You then take your phone back and walk to your room about to troll your brother and sister.
← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← ← → → → → → → → → → → → → → → → → @the-third-winchester-warrior
@flannels-and-rocksalt
@always-keep-writing-spn
@winchesters-favorite-girl
@caroldanversinatardis
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siodymph · 7 years
Text
Boombox Week Day 5
And here's day 5! I decided to go with a sick fic™ where Junkrat is the one taking care of Lucio. I hope you enjoy! (Also I've been rereading over all my stories and I'm sorry for all the grammar and spelling errors, and in the near future I'm going to go back through and editing it all. Just so you know.)
We're already at the half-way point of the week! It's going by so fast :P But it doesn't have to end on Saturday so I've decided to open up boombox requests until the 22nd. So if there's any story you'd like to see with your favorite DJ and Junker then just send me a request (non-NSFW please)
And as awlays you can read my story under the cut if you like or over on my AO3 if you prefer!
Lucio seldom liked to say he hated things. He always liked to see the best in people, things or ideas. In fact so far there were only four thing’s he’d even admit he actually full-out hated. And they were Vishkar and any other company that thought it was good to enter foreign countries and monopolize their industries, the weird relationship between appropriation and gentrification, people who steal credit for someone else’s art, and lastly getting sick.
And while he had power of helping stop and prevent the first three. There was really nothing he could do when he got sick besides wait it out. And he was a pretty healthy guy, stayed fit and active, ate healthy, made sure he got vaccines whenever he was on tour. It had been three years actually that he’s gone without catching a really nasty, so-bad-you’re-bed-ridden level of sick. But today that three-year streak was being broken.
The team had been traveling a lot in the past few weeks, jumping from one mission straight into another. It had been intense, but nothing Lucio couldn’t handle. But apparently not seeing as now he was stuck in his bedroom with a churning stomach and a migraine throbbing right under his eyebrows. When he’d gone to Mercy for help she thought he simply must have caught a bug while they were traveling and that paired with high stress-levels had finally taken their toll.
Stress? Lucio was probably the most laid back person on the entire team! He never let the pressure get to him. He hadn’t even thought their last few missions had even been that hard, just speed around healing everyone up and avoiding Talon fire. Sure everything had been pretty back to back, their only break being on the jet from one city to the next. And at one point he remembered almost getting shot down by some Talon forces had Hana and Junkrat not come down into the street and protected him. That gave him shivers sometimes still thinking about it. But he was Lucio Correia dos Santos! He rolled with any and all punches! Could brush off anyone, even giant corporations wanting his head on a platter. He didn’t let something like a little pressure knock him down!
But apparently it had because now what had started out as a little headache and the sniffles had transformed in the span of a few days to gross vomiting and sleeping for entire days. Oh well, that three year streak was nice while it lasted. Sure he would of liked avoiding getting sick for the rest of his life. And even though he hated this, he knew that pretty soon he’d be brushing this off and back to his normal self. He’d fought off Talon, and Vishkar, he was certain he could fight off this dumb little bug too.
He counted himself lucky though that Mercy was there to make sure he didn’t get any worse. Gave him some stuff to help keep his white blood cells happy and keep his stomach from completely dissolving itself. But it wasn’t like she could spend all her time taking care of him though, no there were like eight other people who had fallen ill too, not to mention she had her own projects to get done. So when it came to constant care, he had been put in the trusty hand of his boyfriend.
He didn’t understand it. Of all people how did Junkrat not get sick? If anyone he expected Junkrat to be bedridden after all this traveling, not him! Out of everyone here he probably had one of the longer lists of medical problems, a list that included radiation poisoning! Even Roadhog had the sniffles by the time they were back in Gibraltar. He just didn’t get it.
But being one of the few healthy people left standing Junkrat had made it his personal job to look after Lucio. At first he’d sincerely feared Junkrat would kill him on accident. The Junker hardly ever took care of himself, how did he expect to take care of another person?
“Oh come on Froggy!” He’d teased when he first came in. “I can be a healer too! Remember that time I healed Phara in Oasis?”
“That was a glitch! Seriously dude you’re gonna get yourself sick if you keep sitting so close to me.”
But Junkrat ignored his protesting, plopped down in his computer chair and swiveled his way right next to his bed. He didn’t even lean away when a Lucio broke out in a fit of wet coughs. Once he was done Junkrat shoved a box of tissues in his face. “Have a little faith in me, mate!”
While he caught his breath he thought it over. He groaned trying to find the warm spots on his bed he’d been jostled out of in his coughing fit.
Not that he actually had much say in this either way. “Just please don’t kill me.”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Froggy! You know I’d never!” He laughed leaning in closer.
“Junkrat no! No! I’m sick!”
Instead of on the lips Junkrat pecked him on the forehead.
“You’re gonna get so sick man.” Lucio groaned, this was going to be a very long week, especially if soon they were both going to be under the weather if this kept up.
Junkrat just giggled and kissed him on the forehead again. “Think I can deal with the consequences mate!”
And once again he found himself being surprised. In the past few days Junkrat had almost never left his side. Pretty much the only reason he’d leave was to get him food. It was all mostly canned crap but still it was keeping him alive. Junkrat had kept most the lights off, only his color-changing lamps, so his migraines didn’t feel even worse. And whenever his stomach got sour Junkrat had held his hair back and softy rubbed his back while he felt like complete utter shit. Somehow he almost always knew what to do.
Near the end of the week when he’d finally gotten his strength back enough to stand and walk around again he decided to ask him while they were in the bathrooms, all the hot water was cranked to their highest settings turning one whole corner of the place into a make-shift steam room.
“Hey Rat? How do you know all this kind of stuff?”
“Wot?” Junkrat mumbled, pulling the towel off of his head so he could see Lucio. Sure enough over the week he’d become slightly congested but nothing like Lucio was going through.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, I love you, but self-care doesn’t really come off as your forte. But you’ve been doing all this stuff like it’s an instinct or something.”
Junkrat shrugged while dropping his towel back over his face. “Eh, kinda gotta learn for survival I guess. Back home if you were bedridden ain’t nobody was there to watch out for you.”
“No one? Not even family?” Lucio asked unsure. He didn’t want to press to far, Junkrat almost never talked about his past and he knew it had to be for some pretty strong reasons.
“Nope, not that I can remember at least.” Junkrat sighed, sitting further back in his spot on a bath tub’s edge. “What I do remember though is if I was sick there was no way I could collect scrap. So I learned fast, picked up any advice I could from old folks who’ld lived before the crisis. Make sure I was never too weak to take protect of me’self. Cause nobody had my back in the whole Outback… besides Hog.”
When he heard that Lucio knew that the sinking feeling in his guts wasn’t from the bug. He couldn’t imagine being a little kid and being so utterly on his own like that. Even as a young adult he’d had his family loving and supporting him as he went into music. “Junkrat, I’m sorry.”
But Junkrat just waved off his apology, “Eh if you ask me I think it turned out alright. Certainly came in handy after me and a few mates got really sick after going into the Omnium. Made sure everyone got back up and running. Made sure I didn’t bleed out or get infected when I got mark I and II here.” He said wiggling his prosthetic arm and leg. Oh god. Did that mean what he thought Junkrat was trying to imply? The thought alone gave him shivers. He almost didn’t hear the last thing Junkrat said.  “And now I’m making sure you get back to your springy self! Lucio? Mate are you feeling- wot?”
Junkrat was at a loss for word when out of the blue Lucio stood up, walked directly up to him and gave him the tightest hug in his life. He could feel his ribs being pressed in Lucio squeezing him like one of those snakes. But it also felt kinda nice, even if he had no idea why Lucio was doing this. So his unsure arms wrapped around Lucio’s frame, trying to reassure him that whatever he was thinking he was fine.
“Junkrat I’m so sorry.” Lucio repeated, sounding even sadder this time.
“Mate don’t worry-“
“No!” Lucio stopped him from brushing off what he obviously wanted to say. He took a deep breath before continuing, still holding him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry you had to grow up like that. Stuff like that isn’t normal, isn’t healthy. And thank you for taking care of me all week but I want you to know that you don’t have to keep looking out for yourself anymore. I have your back. I love you… I can take care of you too.”
Junkrat wasn’t sure what to say to that. The only other person to ever make the promise to him was Roadhog. So instead of saying anything for one of the few moments in his life he stayed silent. Just holding Lucio close, letting him know that he was here, alive and kicking. And that they would always have each other’s backs no matter what.
They would take care of each other.
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theglitchedworld · 6 years
Text
Glitched - Chapter Eight
Thankfully, the room over the small inn's stable that we'd managed to trade rat killing services for - though I'd far prefer to have coin next time given Crysal's idea of bait was apparently me - included use of the inn's bathhouse. Well, I say thankfully, but the only ones appreciative of it was probably Crysal and myself. Tomy and Shel's idea of fully bathed were definitely informed by the setting and resulted in both of them being sent back in more than once before they finally met with Crysal's standards of cleanliness.
Scrubbing that much couldn't have been fun, but it had given me enough time to go out. Turning up a clean change of clothes for the kids and dinner for the four of us from the innkeep took what few coins were in the pouch I'd taken from the guard. Looking back, the money I'd lifted from the guard probably hadn't been as meager as it seemed so much as I just sucked at bargaining. Crysal likely would have been the better person to go out, but she was so dead set on the kids being clean before dinner that I had a feeling it'd be an even worse idea to point out the obviously bad idea of sending me to buy things.
The kids cleaned up pretty well though, much to Crysal's satisfaction, and were more than willing to dig into the food the innkeep's son brought up. Well, they were once we tried a bit of everything to prove it wasn't poisoned or something, I guess. Which probably should have clued either of us in that something was really off with the city, but I hate to admit we missed it. To be honest, I was more interested in the fact that the thick brown stew and black bread we were served didn't smell like it'd taken a dip in a sewer first.
"So why does the army want little kids?" Crysal asked once the initial eating frenzy had died down. "You can't be as much help as an adult or even a teen."
"I'm almost fourteen," Tomy snapped, his brows furrowing as he glared across the table at her. "And I'm big as her." He pointed a finger over at where I was ladelling more stew into my bowl. "So stop calling me a little kid."
"Being big as a midget is hardly proof of not being a little kid," Crysal said under her breath as she glanced at me.
"Keep it up, Crysal. Go ahead." I said, rolling my eyes as I tore a fresh chunk off the loaf of bread. "Your obsession with my appearance is really cute. Super mature too."
"Whatever," she said, shrugging before turning her attention back to the kids across from her. "But seriously, why are they after you? That was hardly a recruitment drive. Looked more like you were getting kidnapped."
Tomy shrugged, handing Shel a chunk of bread. "We don't usually go out during the day. Kids, I mean. The guards like to grab us and make us enlist. Especially since we ain't got a ma or da anymore to pay 'em off. Rich families ain't gotta worry about that stuff cause they got money to buy people to join for 'em."
My eyes narrowed and I set my spoon down. "Wait. Forced enlistment?" I looked at Crysal. "Is this place at war or something?"
She shook her head, spooning a thick chunk of vegetable into her mouth and eating it before replying. "Not as far as I know. But I spend most of my time in the survival zones hunting. I suppose it's possible."
"Da always said we're not," Tomy said, stabbing at a hunk of meat in his bowl. "But the criers all says we gotta keep a big army to keep other places from attacking us."
"That sounds like bullshit." Worse, it sounded like an excuse to keep the populace in check. Like something right out of one of those poli-sci books I had to study in school. "A big army is just a drain on the economy. It's not bad to have an army for defense, but there shouldn't be a reason for it to be so big that they have to force people to join. Especially not kids."
"What happened to your Da?" Crysal asked gently. "You said he was taken to the army, but he should have been allowed to visit right?"
Tomy shrugged and put and arm around Shel's shoulders. "Don't know. Lots of people who go to the army don't come back. Criers never talk about fighting or nothing. They're just gone."
"I don't like it," Crysal whispered, shaking her head. "Sounds bad."
"Told you there was something wrong here," I said, sighing. "Being right sucks sometimes."
"See? This is why you should listen when I tell you to wait." She elbowed me in the arm, which irritated the wrapped cut I'd gotten earlier.
It hurt, a bright sting that made my eyes water even as I grabbed my arm. "Dammit, Crys! Why'd you have to do that?"
"Sorry." She didn't look sorry despite her words, smirking at me like that. "I'll make a point of hitting harder next time just to make sure you remember how much it sucks to get hurt." Nope. Not sorry at all.
"Oh!" Tomy sat up a little straighter as if the injury had reminded him of something. "That reminds me! How'd you do that?"
"Do what? Elbow her? It was easy."
"No! Not that. I mean earlier. Back there. How'd you fight like that?" He stared at me fixedly enough to bring a blush to my cheeks.
"Uh..." I scratched my head trying to figure out how to explain that I'd learned how to fight in an entirely different body.
"This should be good," Crysal said, propping her head on one fist and watching me. "I'd love to hear how a no skills noob managed to pull that off myself."
I grimaced, reaching up with both hands to scrub at my scalp. "It's not a big deal..."
"Oh, it's a big deal," she said, nodding towards the kids. "They're pretty impressed after all. So regale us, wonder tyke."
"It's called arnis," I said, shrugging as I looked away. The way the focus on me seemed to get even more intense made me even more uncomfortable. "It's just... you know. It's something I learned as a kid. Back, uh, where I came from."
Crysal's eyes widened as she realized what I was trying to say. "Oh! So from..."
"Yeah." I nodded, shrugging again. "It's... I used to practice with my sister a lot. It's kind of instinct more than anything by now, I guess."
The chair Tomy had been sitting in clattered to the ground as he bolted to his feet, hands planted on the table. "Can you teach me?!"
I almost fell over in surprise at the sudden move. "What?"
"That... Arny. Arnose. That whatever you called it." He trembled as he stared at me, his nostrils flaring slightly. "Can you teach me that?"
"I-" I looked over at Crysal, but found no help there. I reached up and scratched the bridge of my nose. "I'm not... I'm really not good enough to be a teacher though. I only know what I learned in school a long time ago..."
"But-!" I cut him off with a chop of my hand.
"No way. I'm not a teacher. I don't know enough to teach anything properly." I sighed, shaking my head as I ran a hand through my hair. "Besides I'd probably end up teaching wrong anyway."
"You know more than pretty much anyone here," Crysal said, shrugging one shoulder. "What could it hurt?"
"What could it hurt?!" I gaped at her. That had to be the most idiotic thing I'd heard in a while. "Jesus, Crys! It's a martial art! People here kill each other with that shit! If I screw up teaching it and someone relies on that bad teaching in a fight, they could die! Hell, someone could get bad hurt just in training if I don't teach it right!"
"Hey, calm down," she said, sitting up and holding her hands up defensively. "It was just a suggestion-"
"A stupid suggestion!"
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Alright, fine. It was stupid. But all I'm saying is you can let the kid copy the way you practice, right? You were pretty good out there. You've got to at least know the basic stuff, right?"
"I'm not a master," I said, folding my arms over my chest and hunching my shoulders.
It should have been obvious. Of course it was obvious. All I knew was what I'd learned as a kid. The basic basics. Nothing that a real teacher would know. Every time I looked at the hopeful expression on Tomy's face, I reminded myself again that I couldn't teach him.
He wanted to use it to fight. Even an idiot could see that. Maybe he was just an NPC, but the NPCs were... strange here. They responded better than NPCs in other games I'd played. Definitely better than The Bested World's NPCs which were little more than signposts for the next quest.
But more than that, as I'd learned back in Gallador, they could die here.
Not just lose all their HP and derez before respawning a little while later in the same place, but actually die. They didn't derez. Their bodies stayed where they fell. Their blood stained the surfaces it pooled on. Graves had to be dug and they had to be lowered into them. Other NPCs mourned them for God's sake!
It was either the most realistic programming I'd ever seen or even heard of in the history of gaming or... it was something else. I wasn't sure what that something else was exactly, but it made me almost as uncomfortable as the lack of kids running around the city had made me earlier. I didn't want to think about it too hard either at the time.
But I could imagine Tomy learning the bastardized version of Arnis I'd be able to teach all the same. And worse, I could imagine what would happen if I did. My stomach churned as my mind twisted my memory of finding the murdered barmaid into Tomy laying there on the bloodstained floor. His arms and legs slashed like mine after the fight with the guards. His brown eyes dull and blank, staring sightless at things I could never see.
I shuddered, chafing my arms at the sudden chill the vision invoked in me. I didn't want to see that. I might have only met the kid, but I didn't want him to die. Not because of me.
"Theron," Crysal said softly, reaching out to grip my shoulder. My arms twitched, but I managed to suppress my first instinct to knock her hand away. "It's ok to not be a master. No one's expecting you to be. Tomy just wants to learn what you do know. That's all."
"I don't want it to be my fault," I muttered, shaking my head. "If I screw it up, he could die-"
"If I gotta die," Tomy broke in, his voice hard with determination, "then I want it to be cause something I did."
"I don't want you to die at all!" I yelled, my hand lashing out to smack the table's surface hard enough to cause the crockery to rattle and Shel to jump back in alarm. "You shouldn't trust your life to something I barely remember how I learned!"
"I'm gonna die anyway!" He yelled back, nails scraping on the table's surface as his hands curled into fists. Shel grabbed onto his tunic, her eyes full of fear. "Maybe not now, but someday. They almost dragged me off to the army today. They would've if you hadn't shown up. I don't even know what would've happened to Shel if you hadn't come. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't even protect my little sister!"
"Tomy, listen-" I started, only to be cut off.
"No! You listen! I saw you fighting," he said, his eyes suspiciously bright as he looked up at me again, his lips a tight line. "I saw you get hurt. I know it's dangerous. But so is everything else! I want you to teach me how to do what you did."
"But I-"
"I don't care!" His shoulders trembled, but he didn't look away. "I don't care if you're a teacher or a master or whatever! You can do something I can't and I want to learn how! I gotta look out for my sister! I can't do that with how I am now!"
Something snapped deep inside me with his words. I remembered that feeling. That need to look out for my family. Of wanting to protect my sister no matter what. My head dropped to my chest, a tight band squeezing my heart as I took one shaky breath after another.
"Ok." The word barely made it out of my mouth and I didn't raise my head as I nodded. I didn't want anyone to see my face. "Ok. I'll teach you what I know. But you don't fight unless I say you can or you have no other choice." I finally felt confident enough in my expression to raise my face and meet his gaze with a hard one of my own. "And if Crysal or I say to run, you run."
He colored at my last statement, male ego wounded at the idea of being made to run away. "But-"
"No buts." My hand chopped the air between us. "You want me to teach you, that's my requirements. No fighting unless either I say or there's no other choice and if Crysal or I tell you to run then you run and you do not look back."
"I'm not a child-!"
"I didn't say you were. But your job is to protect your little sister. Which means if you need to run away, you run away. Understand?"
I could feel Crysal's gaze on me as I spoke, fully aware of how hypocritical I probably sounded in that moment. But, in my defense, I hadn't been trying to get her to be my teacher at the time. Not that it changed how stupid I'd been running into a fight that I had no business jumping into with the abilities I had. Hell, jumping into the fight with the guards had been beyond stupid all by itself. But I prayed for her to be quiet even as I could feel my cheeks heating slightly under her steady gaze.
Tomy struggled with my demands. You could see it in every line of his body. I knew it would be hard for a guy, especially a teenaged boy, to accept having to run away from a fight. Not fighting unless you had to was probably a common demand, but running away would be a blow to his ego.
"Tomy..." Shel's soft voice broke the silence as she tugged on his shirt. "Tomy, please?"
His shoulders slumped suddenly. "Alright," he said, shaking his head. "Fine. If that's what it takes, then fine. I agree."
My eyes widened slightly before I could stop myself from reacting. I hadn't really expected him to agree, though the twinge of relief calming the roiling of my stomach was certainly a grateful outcome. "Ok. Then you two should get some sleep. We'll start first-"
The door slamming open with a thunderous crash interrupted before I could say anything else. Beneath us, horses screamed in alarm as men in grey armor poured into the stable. Our chairs clattered to the ground as we lunged for our feet, getting tangled in the simple furniture in the chaos.
"City guard!" The man in the front yelled, brandishing a long pole with what looked for all the world like an iron omega symbol attached to the end. "You're under arrest for assaulting a patrol! Surrender now!"
"Tomy, remember what I said about running away?" I asked as we backed towards the room's one window that looked out over the stable's roof.
"Yeah, what about it?" he asked, his wide eyed gaze fixed on the men beginning to fill the room, Shel cowering under his arm as they backed away together.
"She's telling you to run, idiot!" Crysal yelled, turning to give the two of them a shove towards the window. "Get out of here!"
"But-" He stumbled when she pushed him, his hip hitting the sill of the window as Shel fumbled the latch holding the shutters closed open.
"No buts!" I yelled, turning my attention away from the guards to glare at him. If they hadn't been so focused on capturing us, it would have been a fatal mistake. "Run!"
The last thing I remembered before that weird pole slid around my neck and a burst of blue lightning drowned my consciousness was the sight of his scared face as he picked his sister up and jumped out the window.
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