#went shot for shot with military man my landlord

[pi-cat000]

FMA:B/BNHA Crossover (2)

Summary: Ed gets stuck in the BNHA world after the end of brotherhood. He starts trying to find a way home and ends up inadvertently working for the league of villains.

Part 1 here

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At one point, the ground level of Ed’s building had probably been a nice-looking shopfront, maybe a flower shop or grocers or something more befitting this weird world…like a tech repair store.  Now, the ground level doubles as apartment space, large windows caked with dust and grime, curtains permanently drawn to hide its occupancy. Heck, if Ed hadn’t been around to fix the glass with alchemy the ground floor would have been pretty much unliveable. Like many buildings in the area, it was a victim of a villain/hero confrontation which always seemed to generate an obscene amount of property damage. Great for leveraging his repair skills in exchange for free accommodation and about nothing else. Not that the people here saw it as much of a problem.

Ed scowls, flipping his OPEN sign to CLOSED, yanking the door shut, locking up as he goes.

Ed doesn’t quite understand the whole thing, and he had had one of the worst track records for property damage when it came to state alchemists. The difference being that he had always returned to reverse as much of the alchemical damage as he could and if he couldn’t Mustang had some other military alchemist/personal waiting in the wings to see to the problem. Rebuilding here was the responsibility of some external agency or other. Ed is a little hazy on how the system was supposed to work, seeing as the military had little to no involvement with anything hero related. Though, considering how the Amestrian military had been in the process of feeding the souls of its citizens to a loosely defined truth God, maybe that was a good thing. Honestly, researching how this place ran its bureaucracy was low on his priority list.

“Hey! Ed! You’re out early? Off somewhere interesting?”  

“Did you see the guy who just came through here,” he asks, eyeing his fellow apartment-liver who seemed to have nothing better to do than loiter outside and yell at people on the street. The greasy-haired man is puffing smoke near the corner of the building with his two equally scruffy friends. They all have a physical abnormally, a lizard tail, claws, bulging eyes, that remind him uncomfortably of chimeras despite knowing it was a result of more quirk bullshit.

The guy blows smoke in his direction, “Big, tall dude? Pretty suspicious looking with the hood and all. I saw him go in. Didn’t see him leave …funny that.”

“Yeah…funny…” Ed mutters, “Did you recognise him?”

“I might have.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes and continues down the road. He would leave bribing his neighbours for possible information as a last resort.

He passes the vacant lot holding a near identical half-collapsed block, followed by another nicer looking building, then another, before they gave way to shops and smaller structures. That was something he was still getting used to…the sheer scale of the city. Even Central had barely been a quarter of this city’s size. Luckily, his destination isn’t too far so he doesn’t have to worry about getting lost.  

The building he arrives at is taller than the rest and full of office space. The main lift is out of order so Ed trudges up three flights of stairs to the top floor, stomping into the empty reception/waiting area only hesitating for a second before slamming his hand onto the bell sitting atop the front desk.

There is a muffled voice, “I’m coming. I’m coming. No need for that racket!”

The door behind the desk swings open.

“Edward?”

“Hey, old man,” he gives a small wave, “It’s been a few weeks.”

The man, tall, well-built, cropped brown hair, stares at Ed.

“Yeah it’s been a few weeks! You need to check your phone and answer your messages every now and then. You’re giving me grey hairs. More grey hairs!”

“Right…my phone….” He forgot he had it when not using it to help with navigation. Also, messaging was a pain. He had picked up the local spoken language fast enough out of necessity, but his reading and writing were still a work in progress. Lucky for him, this reality had a few languages similar enough to Amestrian that if he really wanted to read something he could get a translation. It still made written communication tricky.

“I'll try and check it more often," he placates, "I’m here for some information about a job I was offered and seeing you know a bunch of the local businesses I thought I would drop by.”

“Information?” Masao Uraraka lets out a long breath, “And there I went thinking that you were going to take me up on my apprenticeship offer.”

Ed shoves his hands into his pockets, shrugging. The older man grunts, “Well come on through. You’re lucky you caught me in the office. I’m usually on-site supervising about this time. But, can’t do much of that until those idiots at HC Construction.co get the go-ahead from their insurance company.”

Ed slips past and into a dimly lit office space which is surprisingly well organised. Across the wall is a collage of family photos, depicting a woman and young girl at various stages of growth.

“…that’s not your problem though. How have you been kid? Hope you haven’t been in too many fights.”

“Hey,” he objects, “Some idiots need a good punch,” and then adds a little less aggressively, “But no. No fights. I’ve been researching quirks....”

“Quirks. That’s different? Weren't you studying chemistry or something?”

Ed shrugs again, unwilling to divulge much else. Uraraka tended to be nosey out of some misguided notion that he could help Ed ‘get back on his feet’ after whatever tragic backstory he had cooked up for him.

“You’re still living at Old Man Watanabe’s right? He not pulling anything is he? Old coot always tries to weasel more out of his deals.”  

Ed can’t help but agree,  “He’s been trying to get me to re-wire the whole building. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

Of course, this just sets Uraraka off on a round of angry muttering, “Is that right? I can have a talk with him. I’ve told him that he needs an electrician and a proper plumber. He owes me a few favours so I can… ”

“It’s fine,” Ed quickly interrupts. Uraraka had his own problems and family to look after. The guy reminded him of Hughes in that he cared way too much. “One grumpy landlord isn’t worth worrying about.”

Uraraka visibly deflates, “Yes, well, most kids your age shouldn’t be worried about that sort of stuff at all. You should be finishing up your schooling, getting your Japanese up to scratch and studying for college entrance exams. You remind me of my daughter. Stubborn.” He pulls a framed photo from his desk, pointing it at Ed, shaking it for emphasis, “She wants to be a Hero you know. A HERO! Can you believe it! My cute little girl, getting into fights with villains.”

Ed clears his throat awkwardly. Yeah, this guy was definitely this world’s weird version of Hughes. If Hughes had worked in construction and had, you know, not died. This isn’t the first time he has had a picture of Ochako, Uraraka’s daughter, shoved in his face.

“About that information?” He cautiously interrupts and gets another sigh.

“Yes, yes. You kids are always so impatient. What’s this job then? What idiot is going around hiring 16-year-olds.”

“Actually, the guy that came in just mentioned some construction work,” Ed rubs his neck, now slightly subconscious, realising he doesn’t have a whole lot to go on, “he didn’t give me a lot of details, just left this.” Ed pulls out the envelope placing it on the desk next to the assortment of framed photographs and scribbly kid drawings.

With a raised brow, Uraraka pulls it towards him, peering in. The man’s eyes widen and he closes the envelope, frowning, “This supposed to be a down payment in advance of a job, or is it for material costs? Because it’s a bit much for a down payment and nowhere near enough for materials. Not if it’s for anything serious. What sort of work is it? You know I can’t lend you equipment without a licence…but I’ll help you source anything that you…”

“No,” Ed rushes to interrupt, “the guy said it was a sign of goodwill. I take it that’s not a normal thing people do in the, ah, construction business?”

“No. It definitely is not,” Uraraka now looks concerned, “there would usually be a contract for services before any sort of payment. Especially, if you’re going to be working as an independent contractor.”

So that just confirmed what he already knew. Ed continues, “So you haven’t heard about people asking around for under the table construction work then?”

“No. I can ask a few of my freelancers if they’ve had similar offers but I deal above the board with licenced workers only, so it’s unlikely they’ll have heard anything.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He glares at the envelope.

“What did he look like? This man that came in?”

“Oh, he was tall, made of dark purple smoke and had a teleportation quirk…I think. He also asked about my quirk and its limits.”

“I’ll keep an ear out.”  Uraraka promises and frowns at Ed, “I hope you’re not considering this offer.”

Ed grunts noncommittally and gets a look of disapproval that reminds him so much of Hughes its almost painful. He tries not to feel disappointed at the lack of answers because coming to Uraraka had always been a long shot. ‘You’re sad, lonely and the only conversations you’ve had this last week were yelling matches with your landlord and neighbours. Uraraka is a nice man. Of course, you would come to him for advice.’ A voice that sounds suspiciously like Al chimes in. ‘I don’t want him to worry. I’m not staying here long. What’s he going to think when I suddenly disappear,’ he snaps back and immediately feels foolish.

Maybe the isolation is getting to him a bit.

“If it's money you need that I’m more than happy to help you get licenced and certified…” Uraraka continues to talk oblivious to the fact that Ed is barely paying attention.

He doesn’t want to settle down and get a popper job or finish off his schooling or talk to youth services or whatever other things Uraraka had brought up in the few months they had known each other. That would be admitting defeat. Also, he had no ID or history and he was pretty sure you needed both to work any legitimate jobs.

“I can handle myself,” he says out loud.

“Yes, you’re worryingly self-sufficient but there is a difference between unlicensed quirk use and aiding and abetting criminals. No self-respecting, above board, organisation hires a kid to do construction work and throws a bunch of money at them.”

“I know.”

Yeah, he knows Tall-Dark-and-Mysterious was probably a criminal of this reality. He knows he is probably getting himself into something dicey and illegal but he needs to follow whatever lead he can to get back home. Finding a quirk with either the ability to transport him between realities or one with the power equivalent to a few thousand souls was his last hope of ever hearing Al's, the real Al’s, voice again.

The older man rubs his forehead, visibly exasperated, “But you’re going to ignore me. Stubborn brat.”

#fma brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma:b #bnha #mha #fanfiction #CrossOver #edward elric #Uraraka family #dimension travel AU #my hero academia #fanfic

[gemlinz]

Fulcrum ch. 2 - a Working Relationship (Levi x f!Reader)

Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls.  But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity.

Warnings: Swearing, Non-con Groping | CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 |

Read on A03

It turns out “great things” amounted to digging up whatever dirt F/N could on the filthy rich.  It wasn’t particularly difficult - the rich and powerful had plenty they were trying to hide.  Their status granted them an inflated sense of security - and she exploited it to the fullest.  Six months she had been thwarting the nobilities best efforts to gut the Survey Corp funding.

Her latest mark had left his dirty laundry splayed across his desk; literally. F/N watched from her perch as the honorable Judge Forge pulled out of his mistress and tucked himself back into his pants.

Grimacing in disgust, F/N double checked the description of the woman against her sources - it was definitely Avery Lynch, daughter of Adam Lynch - a representative from Wall Rose and very influential in the courts.

Mission completed, then.  Honestly, mission completed 15 minutes ago when the pair stumbled into the judges office trying to eat each others face, but she needed to wait until the guards shift changed - which left her with another 30 minute wait.

Shifting uncomfortably at the bark digging into her back, the young thief-turned-spy opened her notebook to pen her report.  Apparently Erwin was a stickler for them - verbal communication of any pertinent information was avoided where they could.

F/N wondered if it had to do with the errand boy he sent back and forth.  Did Erwin not trust him to get the information right?  Or, more nefariously, was he worried he’d tamper with it?   She sure as shit wouldn’t put it past the runt. Her nose still throbbed in phantom pain every time she saw him.

She finished her report just as the sun began to set, tucking the sealed letter into her waistband. 

Slipping down from the tree, she quietly made her way to the perimeters of the grounds, melting into the surrounding forest.

It still boggled her mind that these nobles had so much room - they could fit a farm to feed 100 people here.  The wound of injustice, slightly scabbed over, still itched and the more she was around these pigs the more she scratched at it.  If Erwin didn’t make good on his promise soon, she wouldn’t be able to stand it much longer.

Exiting the wall of trees behind an old tea shop, she brushed off the dirt from her dark cloak and made for the pub.  Irritable as she was, she wasn’t looking forward to a full shift behind the bar.

Walking through the familiar streets, she thought back to Avery Lynch and how fucked she was;  from what she could tell, the girl was half the judge’s age.  Barely legal, definitely not smart enough to realize the consequences of her actions.  If Judge Forge didn’t do whatever it was Erwin wanted, the poor girls life would be over.

It was unlikely the Judge wouldn’t comply though.  The implications would end his career overnight.  F/N wouldn’t lose any sleep over that.

Finally at the pub, she entered through the back door, still paranoid about homicidal assholes sneaking in behind her.

Louis greeted her almost right away, wiping a glass with a towel.

She still felt the sharp bite of betrayal when around him, but F/N had no real choice but to trust him. He was both her employer and landlord - not to mention the things he knew about her could get her hanged.

He was also her only friend.

“There you are. We’re swamped tonight,”  He began, “And your admirer is back, sat him in his regular corner.  Nice and secluded for the two of you.” Winking the man walked back out to the rowdy front, patrons already many drinks deep, even at the early hour.

Rolling her eyes, F/N pulled her apron off the hook, tying it off at her waist.  Taking a deep breath, she followed him out.

“I prefer my men less abusive, Louis,” She murmured only low enough for him to hear as she passed him, checking the board to see which table was sat first.  She hadn’t meant it to come out so harshly, but she saw him flinch slightly in guilt.

Knowing better than to approach her contact right away, she waited her tables like normal, charming her patrons into larger tips.

In the beginning, the idea of conducting business in the pub worried her. Mixing her two lives like that went against everything she had been taught.  You don’t shit where you sleep.  But Erwin had insisted, and Louis encouraged it, so she had no choice but to comply, as much as it set her on edge.  Apparently it was less suspicious for someone as recognized as “Humanity's Strongest Soldier” to be seen publicly and not in some dark alley.

In reality, her weekly meetings with Levi weren’t as awful as she first had first thought.  Sure, there was still a healthy dose of fear and caution on her part - the man had threatened to kill her, multiple times.  But as far as the bars regulars went, he was significantly more tolerable.

For one, he never seemed to drink - alcohol that is.  She’d admonish his lack of forethought at how suspicious it looks being the only sober one at a pub , but every week he proved her wrong with the confident stoicism he displayed calmly sipping away at his tea.  No one questioned him, or even paid him a second glance.

F/N for her part did her best to treat him like any other patron, with the addition of occasionally slipping him secret reports that would get them both executed if discovered.

That’s not to say she enjoyed his visits. Treating him like a regular patron also meant trying to start small talk - trying in that he shot down most of her attempts with one word answers or outright silence.  The only time she had been able to get more than a few words out of him was the night he had stayed until just before closing, about three months after their operation began.

Louis had already called it a night, and F/N was waiting on the last of their customers to finish up, getting a head start on cleaning.  Levi had critiqued how she was wiping down the tables.  Once she got over her shock, she had laughed at him, claiming that the alcohol on them killed any germs and anyone coming into this bar didn’t typically give a crud about a little stickiness.

He had tsked at her and launched into a rant about the benefits of a clean establishment for an hour.  She would have been more annoyed at the tirade if he hadn't used that time to also demonstrate his suggestions by deep cleaning the bar.

They finished closing the pub much later than normal, but she couldn’t find it in her to complain when she somehow tricked this runt into doing her job for her.

After that, every so often he would stay past close to clean the bar.  She was eventually able to decipher by the tension in his shoulders when he would be staying.  Wherever she noticed the signs, she began kicking people out just a bit earlier; they were too drunk to notice, and she fancied getting to sleep at a normal time.

Levi never talked except to criticize her own efforts, before he moved to do it himself.  F/N was no saint - she took full advantage. 

He either didn’t notice or didn't mind.

Today didn’t seem to be a bad day for him, glancing at him as she darted from table to table.  He looked relaxed - or, as relaxed as he ever looked.  He didn’t wear his uniform but instead a dark suit, complete with his signature cravat.

After helping three tables, she made for where he sat.  Not three steps in, the door opened to the front, and a group of three MPs strolled in.  They were in uniform but already deep in their drink, if their volume was anything to go by.  

Drunks she was used to coming in - but not once had the Military Police visited this bar.  It was far from the barracks and more importantly, too low class.  Her regulars weren’t usually locals, but those who worked in Mitras and stopped in to forget whatever shit they were made to do that day.

Briefly meeting her contacts' grey eyes, she forced a smile before turning to shout over her shoulder to the newcomers, “Seat yourselves and I’ll be right over!” Not missing the greasy smiles shot her way from the group, she continued to Levi’s table.

“Friends of yours?” She said around a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear to better eye the group. 

“Hn. I’ll have a Black tea, thanks.”  He said with no inflection.  Confused, she could only play along.

“Ok?  I’ll go...get that then.”  When her confusion went unanswered, she made for behind the bar to apparently brew some tea.  Louis shot her a look, apparently just as lost as she was.  Was it just a coincidence, or were they already compromised?

Her mind raced with where she went wrong, moving mechanically.

The MPs sat themselves by the door, khaki jackets thrown on the back of their chairs.  She couldn’t avoid going over there for any longer without looking suspicious.  As the tea steeped, she made her way towards them, swallowing her building panic.

“Hello gentlemen, what can I get for you tonight?”  She asked, saccharine sweet even as she shook inside.

“Hmm, well I know what I want,” He slurred, salaciously looking her up and down, “but I don't think it's on the menu, sweetheart.”  The oldest one cackled, the stench of alcohol noticeable even inside the bar.  She pictured breaking a bottle over his head, but kept her smile up.

It had been awhile since she had been met with such boldness;  the patrons had been fairly well behaved recently.  Maybe it was the new cleaning regime. It’s tough to be filthy in a place where you could now literally eat off the floor.

“Shut up Stewart, you old pervert.”  His friend elbowed him, saving her from replying.  Mr. Chivalrous didn’t seem to want to look up from her chest, however.  He seemed only slightly more sober.  “We’ll both have an ale.”

“Make that three.”  The last MP grunted out.  The most sober of the three of them, he didn’t look at her at all when he ordered - his eyes were fixed to a point behind her.

Where Levi was sitting.

Shit.

“Three ales, coming right up!”  She chirped, fighting her flight instinct and walking away at what she was pretty sure was a normal pace.

Heading back behind the bar, her eyes searched for Levi’s, but apparently whatever was on the table was more pressing than the actual military fucking police in her pub, tonight of all nights.

Tea finished, she walked back over to him as slowly as she could manage, all but throwing it onto the table, eyebrows raised in panicked inquiry.

Not meeting her gaze, he used his sleeve to wipe the edge of the cup clean - the asshole - and took a tentative sip.

Grimacing, he finally met her look.

“This is fucking disgusting.”  He stated and F/N was sure she was about to strangle him.

“Well, sir , this is a bar.”  She said around her teeth, sticky sweet smile still in place, “Tea isn’t exactly what we’re known for.”  And it was good enough for you every other night, jerk.

“Make me another one.”  He demanded, pushing the cup away from him.

He was dead.  She was going to murder him.  Fuck Erwin, this shrimp had it coming.

At her silence, he looked back up at her with an eyebrow raised.

The look in his eyes however gave her pause - something was up.  F/N had no choice but to follow his lead.

Steaming, she snatched the cup from him, not even wincing when some of the hot liquid splashed over onto her fingers.

“Fine.”�� She bit out, heading back to the bar, noisily dumping the mug into the sink and setting the water back onto boil.

Pouring out three glasses of ale, she made her way back over to what was now the rowdiest table in the pub - the MPs.

As she walked over, she noticed that even though they were supposedly in varying states of drunkenness, all three were casting surreptitious glances at Levi.

Placing their drinks on the table seemed to snap them out of it, redirecting their attention back to her.  Skillfully dodging their wandering hands, she shot them a smile and walked away to finish making Mr. Precious his tea.

Not sure what she was meant to do differently, she walked back to his table with it, brewed in the same manner as the last one.  The asshole needed to stop making a scene while they were surrounded by the ene-

Something caught on her foot and she stumbled forward, the tea filled mug flying out of her hand and…

Spilling all over Levi.

The entire bar froze at the commotion and all eyes were on the two of them.

“I-” she started, horrified - not only was this not conducive to what was meant to be a clandestine meeting, she was genuinely scared at the murderous look in his eyes.  Not too long ago, he had held a blade to her throat.

Louis came up beside her, clearing his throat.

“So sorry about that, sir.”  The older man mediated, “She can be a bit of a klutz, you see.  F/N, take this young man to the back and get him properly cleaned up.  I’ll take care of the spill here.”

Nodding, realization was slowly dawning on her.  This was the perfect opportunity to get him her report away from the watchful eyes of the MPs. 

As she led him to the back however, it dawned on her that he had orchestrated this by deliberately tripping her.  Once they were through the doorway and out of sight from the main bar room, she turned to make her displeasure known, loudly.

She flinched back when he held one hand up to her mouth to keep her quiet, pulling her in by her arm with his other.

“Not here.”  He whispered, nodding towards the back door leading the alley before pulling her along behind him.

What a perfect place to commit murder, she thought darkly, glaring at the back of his stupid head.

As the door closed behind them, they both cast looks up and down the alley - they were alone.

“How did they find us?”  She started immediately, “Are we compromised?  If they know about the bar, I need to let Louis know.”

He shook his head.

“They didn’t find us, they found me.”  He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “The info you’ve been giving us has resulted in unprecedented wins for the Corp - other branches are starting to get suspicious.”  

“So they just guessed?” 

“Yeah, looks like - I don’t think they suspect you yet, their eyes were on me the entire time.  Trying to see if I was meeting anyo-”

“Someone's coming.”  She interrupted in a rush, hearing footsteps.

Levi cursed, eyes darting for an easy exit - when he didn’t find one, his eyes turned back to her, calculating.

Too quick for her to follow, he grabbed her.  Hands rough, he twisted F/N around and slammed her face first into the wall, crowding in behind her.  One of his hands tangled in the hair above her neck, and he forced his knee between her legs.

“Get off!”  She yelled, struggling against his hold.

He didn’t let up, and she cursed at him, trying to push off the wall.  He slammed her back down, none too gently.  She was effectively pinned.

“Keep struggling,” He leaned in to breathe into her ear, voice a whisper, “In a second, nod, say ok.  Pretend I’m threatening you.  Force some tears, if you can.”

You are threatening me she wanted to say, feeling as helpless as she did that night six months ago when they first met.  Tear’s weren’t that hard to come by as his front pressed against her back, rough brick digging into her cheek.  

“Nod.”  He commanded again in that harsh whisper, as the footsteps stopped at the end of the alley.

She did, wincing as the motion pulled against the hold he had on her hair.

“O-ok.”  She sniffled, eyes watery.

When nothing happened, Levi shoved his thigh up to meet the apex of her own at the same time he leaned in to bury his face in her neck, able to use her to hide his look at the end of the alley.

All three MPs stood at the end, two barely holding themselves upright.

“Bah - he's just fucking the whore from the bar.”  One of them said, waving at the pair, “Lucky asshole.”

Both Levi and F/N looked up, as if just noticing the newcomers.

Levi scowled.

“The fuck do you three want?”  He deadpanned, “Find your own, this one owes me for making a mess of my clothes.”

One of them - Stewart, she remembered him called - guffawed.

“Guess the rumors are true - you are a clean freak.”  He took a step forward, threateningly, “But that doesn’t seem fair to the poor missy, now does it?”

“Ah Stewart, don’t be jealous, let him have his fun,” His friend spoke up, “Survey Corp needs all the charity it can get.”

Levi grit his teeth as the two bickered, seemingly forgetting about him and the woman he currently had pinned.

Only his steel nerves stopped him from jumping when she grabbed his free hand, on the side facing away from the MPs.  F/N led his hand up her waist, passed her hips and then under her shirt.

Eyebrows raised high, he tried to guess at her intentions, but his mind had gone blank.  She pressed down on his hand and he braced himself to feel her the warm skin of her stomach - but felt the rough texture of paper instead.

The report.

He hid his smirk in her hair.

Eyeing the MPs and realizing they had all but forgotten about the two of them, he lifted it from her waist band and tucked it into his coat - besides the two of them, none were any the wiser.

The argument at the end of the alley was turning more lewd than his patience allowed, so he released her and shoved off the wall with a loud “Tsk.”  

“You shitheads ruined whatever mood there was.”  He walked up to them, pausing until F/N recovered and scurried back inside, the sound of the door locking behind her.  “Fuck out of my way.”

“The hell did you say to me, you little runt!?”  Stewart slurred, indignant, “I’ll kick your ass, punk!”

He attempted a swing at Levi, but missed so badly he stumbled over his own feet and fell on his face.

Cradling his broken nose, the fallen MP tried to stifle the flow of blood. Levi scoffed and walked out of the alley, eyes challenging the other two.  Neither seemed keen on avenging their friend.

Once out of sight, Levi walked a few blocks before doubling back.  It was unlikely the shitheads had gone back into the bar, but he couldn’t risk the Corps asset falling into their hands.

Approaching the pub, the MPs were nowhere in sight.  Through the window, he could see F/N behind the bar, slinging drinks and smiles at her regulars, as if she hadn’t just been assaulted.

Satisfied, he made his way back to barracks to deliver Erwin her latest findings.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #reader insert #gem writes #fanfiction

[vrokhakan]

Another day away from his homeworld- away from his life and all his accomplishments. Back on Mido he had been somebody. Not famous or rich. But somebody. Field commander of a prominent private military contractor. And he'd worked very hard to get there. But here fresh on Sigma Rhada he had less clout than a two year old. The only meaning the name Vrok Hakan held here was a monthly lease in a ratty apartment building and a growing tab at the liquor store. At least the people were familiar. There were pockets of midoans scattered throughout the planet- most of the ones in this community were made up of refugees. People who were tired of the skirmshes between the city and forest dwellers or had lost everything because of them. Back home the two sides fought incessently. Here they were just happy to have more of their kind around. A midoan of either side was better than none at all.

Vrok pushed aside the front door of the low quality apartment building and climbed up the steps. The sounds of each room bled out into the hallway into a racket that made him miss the street noise. A hand planted onto his chest and broke through the fog of alcohol that kept his mind dwelling on the differences from his homeworld. Fingers snapped in front of his eyes and he craned his head down at the man who'd stopped him in the hallway. The man was older than Vrok- he'd been an adult more than half his life by this point- and dressed way too loudly to live in this part of the neighborhood.

"Hey. Did you hear me? I said: Do. You. Live. Here."

He pushed the man's hand away from his face, "Why do you care?"

"It's collections time," the man said, speaking in a way he might to somebody who was either simple or didn't understand their language.

"I already paid rent this month."

"What? No not rent- Oh I see. You must be new here. This isn't for rent. Everybody in the building chips in a small fee each month for security. It helps keep the bounty hunters from moving in here."

"Let them come here. What are they going to do? Steal the refrigerator out of my apartment? Because that's the only thing in there worth taking. And even then the damn thing rattles all night."

The man shook his head and spoke with a waning level of patience that already seemed low to begin with. "Look, bud, don't make this hard. Everyone here pays."

"Not everyone," Vrok said and pushed his way passed. The haze returned and when it cleared Vrok was climbing onto the couch of his living room with an old itchy blanket tugged over the thick orange and red-tipped fur of his arms. A thankfully dreamless sleep took over until being broken by a loud knock on his door. He sat up and took a deep breath, pinching between his tired eyes then turning to look out the window. Mid-day from the look of it. The day had started without him and it looked like he'd have to play catchup.

He groaned and tossed the blanket aside, unraveling where his wifebeater was bunched from a night of tossing and turning. "Just give me a minute, fuck," he muttered and grabbed a dark bottle on the table across from the couch. He shook it about and sighed. Empty. He'd have to do another beer run once he was done with whoever this was. The midoan took a deep breath and sighed standing up. Another knock, "Yeah I hear you. I'm coming, shit."

He walked across the room to the door and pulled it open. Vision flashed white and a shock of pain shot through his nose. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.

Through the pain he could hear voices, "Yeah that's the one."

Another pain the size of a boot flared up in his stomach and then another in his back.

"Let's just see if you've got more than a dying refrigerator in here."

Another hit to the face left Vrok curled into a ball and covering as much of himself as he could. But no matter where he covered they always managed to find an equally bad spot to hit.

"Well damn I guess he wasn't lying. Look at this shit. The most he's got is a bar's worth of empty bottles."

"Hey, Arn! Take a look at this."

"Hoho. Maybe I spoke too soon. This armor should be worth quite a bit."

Vrok's ears perked up and his eyes opened wide. The pain flaring up through his body seemed to dull down and the heat flushed from his face. "Don't you touch that armor!" he yelled out.

"Think of it as a late fee for missing your security payment."

The midoan scrambled to his feet, barely even registering the kick to his mouth on his way up.  One of the men caught him by the fabric of his shirt and held him in place. The alien was much stockier than a midoan and even if Vrok was strong for his species it was still too much to overpower him. The one holding him spoke something that went unheard to Vrok as the man from the day before came into view carrying pieces of white and red body armor. His eyes widened at the sight of his last connection to his previous life went strolling out towards the door.

His hand lowered down to his side and fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle he'd checked earlier. Vrok swung it up and into the alien's head. Glass shattered and left the man reeling back. He charged the alien to their side who'd helped with the beating and drove the remnants of the bottle up into his throat. Vrok held the dying alien up and looked to his belt. If there was one thing Sigma Rhada had plenty of it was cheap guns like the one he found nestled in the waistline of the alien's pants.

He pulled it and turned to find the glassed alien charging at him. He fired two shots into him and side-stepped the falling body. Another of the men was caught mid-draw and Vrok fired three rounds into him. The clatter of his armor could still be heard over the ringing in his ears and he turned to see it all in a pile on the floor with the man from yesterday running out of the room and down into the hallway. Vrok fired a shot that clipped him through his gaudy jacket and left a red spray on the wall. The sound of hurried footsteps told him the man had lived. The ringing of his ears couldn't mask the gurgling of the man beneath him squirming around with the remnants of a bottle still in his neck and Vrok fired the last shot of the weapon into him.

The midoan adjusted his armor where he had re-placed it on the mannequin in his closet. It was all squared away now. His eyes glanced outside of the bedroom where the gunsmoke had tripped the smoke detector. Vrok shut the door and sighed, moving back to wave the smoke away from the chirping machine. At least he knew the landlord hadn't cheapened out on faulty detectors.

He dropped back down to the couch and took a deep breath. He glanced over at the two... three bodies on the floor and the gun on the table. He tested another bottle on the floor beside the table. Empty.

"Holy sh- You killed them," came a bewildered voice from the hallway.

"Nah, they were like that when I got here," Vrok said dryly and tossed the empty bottle back to the floor. He turned to look at the voice through a quickly swelling eye. "Don't tell me you're going to miss them."

"No. No not at all. Those Rever thugs have been shaking us down every month for years."

"Yeah? Surprised this didn't happen earlier then."

"Nobody here's a fighter," he said shaking his head. The white-furred midoan stepped in over the bodies. "In fact, I was a doctor back on Mido. I work in the clinic over on 53rd. I could take a look at those gashes if you want."

"Veda, is everything okay over there?" another voice called from the hallway.

"Yeah! It's all fine! Hey, could you go grab the medkit from my bedroom?"

Soon a small crowd of the apartment tenets had gathered around, some coming by to chat about the ordeal or to catch a glimpse of the fiery midoan who had put an end to the long time thugs. The stronger stomached ones hepled scrub away the blood and glass. A handful of off duty 'cleaners' even helped take the bodies away. By the end of the day Vrok had been introduced to nearly every tenet there. His room was full of gifts from various foods to new decorations and even a new blanket. The bottles were cleaned up, stains were gone, and there was a standing fan cooling the place down and thinning out the thick humid air. Vrok didn't understand it but he wasn't about to refuse a few upgrades to his living situation. Even if it was only making a dead end life somewhat more comfortable.

A few days had passed by and Vrok had become more familiar with the people living around him already. The man didn't try to be social but he would get stopped now and again by his neighbors for a conversation and over time he started to learn their names. They were nice enough but didn't quite seem to understand that Vrok just wanted to be alone. If it weren't for the need to visit the liquor store then he would have merely held himself up in his room. But there was no avoiding it.

Given how fast the news traveled about his run in with the thugs he shouldn't have been surprised the day he returned to somebody waiting for him. One of the women from the floor above him was surrounded a few of the tenets. All outside of his door.

"Vrok! Thank the gods you're here. These men came to my husband's store. They started asking about money and smashing things and they started to attack him! He told me to find help- a couple of the people from here went to help but you're the only one of us who has actually fought these people."

He didn't know how to respond. He merely stared at her blankly and shook his head. "Why do you think I want to get involved with all that?"

"We don't have much but we could pay you.. something at least."

Another voice chimed in from the group, "I'll throw something in too."

"Me too," came from the other side of the crowd.

Vrok opened his mouth to respond but the desperate eyes of the woman and the crowd all on him caught the refusal in his throat.

"I guess I could use the money. Alright. Hold on," he said and squeezed his way passed them and into his room.

"Fuck me man," he mumbled and pulled a handgun from a holster on his armor. "Don't get me mixed in with this shit," he checked the chamber and tucked the weapon into his waistline. "I just want to lay around here in peace until I fucking die, is that too much to ask?" He popped the top off of a bottle and took one quick mouthful before hurrying back outside.

The store was easy to find. He could hear the commotion from a block or two away. When he arrived the windows had been smashed out and the inside wasn't much better. The store looked like a bomb had gone off inside. Shelves were on their side, products were smashed and strewn all over, and the group who had set off to help were shouting at three aliens. Two of the aliens were holding off the crowd with their weapons drawn while the third had a midoan by the throat against the wall. The man who must have been the woman's husband looked dead already- if he wasn't then it would be a roll of the dice if he pulled through.

Vrok ran his fingers through his mohawk and took a deep breath. He hadn't taken any money yet. He could just walk away.

At least until eyes had turned on the new arrival.

"We don't need any more of a crowd in here. The store's closed, get out," one of the lookouts said.

"I'm a friend of his," Vrok nodded to the bloodied midoan. "I'm not leaving until you do."

"Hold on. Doesn't this guy look like the one Arn was telling us about?" the other one asked with his eyes squinted over at Vrok.

The other one started to nod, "You know what, I think he does."

Vrok saw their weapons turn towards him.

"Hey, why don't you come a bit closer so we can talk a little," one said.

Vrok looked between the two of them. Eyes met. Vrok drew his weapon in a way he'd trained to hundreds of times before. Unlike before he wasn't reliant on the bottom tier garbage of Sigma Rhada. This was his weapon. A mounted sight settled on the first guard's head and he fired two shots. Before he'd even seen the result he had already switched to the other. They had fired already but weren't ready for it and their rounds went into the floor. Vrok's hit home.

It had only been a second or two but the men were dead before the crowd even began to scatter. The third thug dropped the midoan and held his hands up. A shocked expression was plastered on his face and he looked between the two and then up to Vrok. "Woah woah. Hold on. Don't do anything stupid-" A shot blew through his head.

"Get him to the clinic," Vrok said motioning to the beaten store owner.

Two days went by. Vrok heard through the conversations going around the building that the woman's husband survived even if he still hadn't woken up. True to her word she'd paid a small amount- he hadn't expected much. Not from anybody who had to live in that dump but especially not a near-widow with a decimated store. The crowd funding had made it worth while, though. Apparently all together the building could come up with a nice little sum. Suddenly Vrok understood why somebody would run a protection racket on it. If he made that kind of money each month he'd have nothing to worry about.

A knock on his door broke his concentration. This was starting to become a trend. He wasn't about to be taken by surprise again. He picked his gun up off the table and checked through the peephole. It was one of the more active midoans around the building. One of the few who had at least made the effort to show up to the store. Even if he hadn't done anything meaningful in the end. Vrok remembered him as Kino.

Vrok answered the door, "Yeah?"

"Vrok. Those guys you killed a few days ago? Word finally got around to the Reavers. People are saying they're on their way to the store and they're going to burn it down."

He shrugged at him, "And where do I come into this? It's not my store."

"Please, Vrok. These people left everything on Mido. That store is all they have. And if it burns down the fire's going to spread to the other buildings. Other people's lives are going to be ruined too."

"Well... I guess last time I got paid.."

"We gave you everything we could spare for that, Vrok." He glanced side to side, desperate to come up with anything. Then his eyes widened, "A bounty! A lot of those Reavers probably have a bounty on them. You could make much more than what we paid you last time- maybe even triple if you're lucky!"

"A bounty, huh?" Vrok rubbed his chin. He always had a rule back on Mido. Never take a job where payment is a gamble. But this wasn't Mido and he couldn't just hop over to another city to get a better contract. "Alright. But you guys are going to actually help me this time."

He sent Kino off to go collect the others. When they returned weapons in hand they found Vrok standing tall in a suit of red, white, and black armor. He slid a cigar out from a plastic wrapping and ran a knife around the back of it.

"We're all here, Vrok. You ready?"

Vrok lit the cigar and blew a puff of sweet wood smelling smoke. He nodded, "Yeah. Let's go put out a fire."

#drabble #beginnings

[kjack89]

The Liberator, Vol III: Hero of Sacrifice

Well, it’s only been two and a half years since I wrote Vol II of this AU. #mybad

There will be a Volume IV because I promised a happy ending and I’ll be damned if, some three years later, I disappoint anyone, though I endeavor to have the fourth part done sooner than two and half years from now.

ExR, modern, superhero AU, developing relationship.

Read Vol I here and Vol II here.

Before Grantaire could even open his eyes, he knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t the fact that his entire body felt like he’d been run over by a semi-truck, or that he had bruises in places he generally wasn’t sure it was possible to be bruised. It wasn’t even the dull throb that he knew from too many close calls came from a gunshot wound.

It was the fact that he could hear yelling echoing through the halls of his normally silent base of operations.

Which could only mean that, in addition to bringing him back here, Combeferre had brought Enjolras back as well. And Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure that he was ready to face him. Or the secret he’d never intended on Enjolras learning.

With a groan, he pulled himself into a sitting position, making as if to run his fingers through his hair and wincing at the flash of pain when he tried to move. “Fuck,” he hissed, debating if he wanted to try getting up or just texting Combeferre begging him to bring coffee. And alcohol. And probably some percocet.

He was saved from having to make even that tiny movement by Combeferre appearing in his doorway, coffee in hand and a particularly harried look on his face. “Good, you’re up,” he said curtly. “Enjolras wants to talk to you.”

Grantaire groaned again. “Dare I ask why you brought him back here?” he managed, reaching up to accept the mug of coffee.

“He saw your face,” Combeferre said shortly, as if it was an answer.

And in some ways, it was, but it wasn’t the answer Grantaire wanted to hear.

“And if I don’t want to talk to him?” Grantaire asked instead.

Combeferre sighed. “You owe him a conversation, at the very least,” he said, sounding as tired as Grantaire felt. “Whatever explanation you want to give — if any — is entirely up to you beyond that.”

Grantaire made a face before draining the rest of the coffee in one long gulp. He ran a hand over his face and debated whether he felt human enough for the conversation that awaited him. “Fine,” he said. “But I can’t promise Enjolras is going to like what I have to say.”

Combeferre cracked a smile. “Of that certainty, I was never in doubt.” His brow furrowed as he gave Grantaire a once over. “When you’re doing talking to Enjolras, I want to check the stitches on that GSW. You took it an odd angle and I want to make sure the stitches are holding.”

“I’m pretty sure the lack of blood gushing down my leg is probably as good an indication as anything,” Grantaire grumbled. “But fine.”

He stood with another groan, stretching cautiously and wincing as every movement sent twinges of pain through his body. But it was nothing he couldn’t handle, or nothing he hadn’t handled before, at the very least, and after a long moment, he nodded decisively. “Right,” he said. “Better go face the firing squad.”

He didn’t wait for Combeferre’s response, padding barefoot down the hallway towards the kitchen the second cup of coffee he needed to face both the day and an irate Enjolras. He realized belatedly that Combeferre must’ve changed him out of his suit, and he paused in his step, blushing a mottled shade of red at the thought of Enjolras seeing him stripped down to practically nothing.

Then again, that also gave him the tantalizing thought of Enjolras perched next to his bed while Combeferre did his level best to sew his bullet wound back together without having to call Joly in as backup.

Would Enjolras have been stoic, watching it? Or had he, maybe, though Grantaire could barely imagine it, grasped Grantaire’s hand, held it tightly even though the other man was unconscious and past feeling the pain?

Well, at the very least, that thought was going to keep him up at night.

Grantaire wasn’t surprised to see Enjolras in the kitchen, mug of coffee in front of him, and he ignored the sharp way that Enjolras looked up at him, instead heading directly to the coffeepot and pouring himself a second cup. 

Only after he had drained half of it did he finally turn around to meet Enjolras’s eyes. “Morning,” he said, with somewhat false cheer.

Enjolras didn’t smile. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Not if I could get away with not,” Grantaire answered honestly. Enjolras recoiled, something like hurt flashing across his face before being replaced by steely resolve, and Grantaire sighed. “C’mon,” he said, jerking his head away from the kitchen. “Let’s take this elsewhere.”

He led Enjolras to main room, ignoring the images flashing across the screen of Combeferre’s computer and instead sinking down on the couch, letting out a sigh of relief as he did. Enjolras glanced around, cradling his mug of coffee in both hands. “You know, I expected more for a secret lair,” he said after a long moment.

Grantaire snorted. “Yeah, well, not all of us have trust funds to pay for swanky digs. Besides, the place is rent-controlled and the landlord didn’t seem care about the, uh, modifications I needed to do in order to make the place functional.”

“If you don’t have a trust fund, how do you pay for your equipment?” Enjolras asked mildly, picking Grantaire’s grappling hook gun off Combeferre’s desk and looking at it with a critical eye.

“Military contracts, and will you put that down before you hurt yourself?”

Enjolras scowled but nonetheless set it down before moving to sit across from Grantaire. “Now can I ask you what I really want to know?”

“You can ask,” Grantaire said, after a long moment. “But I reserve the right to not answer.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Self-incrimination and the fact that I don’t have my attorney present, for starters,” Grantaire said evenly. “The fact that there are some secrets even you don’t need to know, for another.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras wanted to press the issue further, but then he shook his head before taking a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Grantaire took a sip of coffee. “Is that honestly your number one concern?” he asked mildly. “Not my tragic backstory or why I’m doing this?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I already know why you’re doing this,” he said impatiently. “You care about justice, and—”

Grantaire snorted. “Justice?” he repeated, incredulous. “Enjolras, this is me we’re talking about, not you. In what world do I give enough of a fuck about justice to do all this?”

“And here I thought we were talking about the Liberator,” Enjolras shot back.

“Sure,” Grantaire said tiredly. “That too.”

Enjolras glared at him. “Fine,” he said, biting off the word. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Enjolras looked exasperated. “Of course I want to—”

“No, I mean it,” Grantaire interrupted, struggling to keep his expression and his tone as neutral as possible. “Do you really, truly want to know? Even if the answer isn’t what you want to hear?” Enjolras stared at him, and Grantaire added, a little desperately, “Even if the answer changes how you feel about the Liberator?”

“Grantaire—”

Enjolras broke off, his expression unreadable. Then, after a long moment, he jerked a nod. “Yes,” he said. “I really want to know.”

Grantaire jerked his head in a nod and stared down into his coffee mug, now wishing he was drinking something stronger. “My dad used to beat me,” he said abruptly. “Well, he mainly beat my mom, but that’s just because I don’t think he ever thought I was important enough to merit a beating.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras offered, a little tentatively, but Grantaire waved him off.

“It was a long time ago,” he said dismissively. “But once I started school, it wasn’t just my dad — the kids there used to beat me up, too, so my mom did the only thing she could and enrolled me in every martial arts class she could.” He shrugged. “The kids at school learned their lesson, but my dad—”

He broke off, his expression twisting. “He was a CPA by day and book cooker for the mob by night, and to top it off, he was a mean drunk with a meaner right hook. And one day, when he hit me, I hit back.”

A beat of silence, then—

“He died four days later. He never woke up from the coma I put him in.”

Enjolras was staring at him, but Grantaire couldn’t bring himself to look at him, couldn’t bring himself to see the expression on his face, the disappointment, or the fear, or—

“My mom and I lied to the police about one happened, said he’d gotten in a drunk driving accident. His BAC was twice the legal limit when we got him to the hospital so it’s not like the cops asked a lot of questions.” Grantaire’s voice turned bitter, and he had to swallow against the bile that rose in the back of his throat. “But for weeks after, I lay awake at nighttime wondering if this made me a murderer.”

“It didn’t,” Enjolras said fiercely, and now Grantaire did glance up, unsurprised if a little gratified at the fury radiating from Enjolras. “It doesn’t. It was self-defense.”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Maybe,” he said, as if he didn’t quite believe it. “But that didn’t stop me from wondering if I would wind up killing someone again.”

Enjolras didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Grantaire took a deep breath before continuing, “Then I went off to college, and I met you, and Les Amis. And when I learned about all your plans to change things without violence — I mean, I don’t really care about the whole change part, but the nonviolence part — I wanted to believe that.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head, something between a smile and a grimace twisting his lips. “And maybe I would’ve even managed it, if it weren’t for one day…”

Grantaire trailed off, and Enjolras leaned forward, just slightly. “One day what?” he asked softly.

“One day, you were attacked.” Enjolras blinked, surprise and something like confusion mingled in his expression. “You were still in law school, clerkin for one of the more liberal judges, and someone attacked you outside the courthouse with a knife.”

“I remember,” Enjolras said, his voice low. “But I didn’t think you would. I was barely scratched.”

“How could I not remember?” Grantaire whispered, trying not to sound as pained as he felt, his heart beating a painful rhythm in his chest as much at the memory as it had that day all those years ago. “I tossed and turned for weeks thinking about you being attacked. Trying to think of ways to keep you safe.”

Enjolras shook his head. “But—”

“I swear to God, Enjolras, if you ask why, you’re stupider than anyone has ever given you credit for.” Enjolras closed his mouth and managed a glare that Grantaire mostly ignored. “I had to keep you safe, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t do it myself in broad daylight, you’d never let me—” Enjolras made a small noise of what might have been protest but Grantaire again ignored him. “—so I had to come up with some kind of secret identity. And so the Liberator was born to keep you safe from the perps you couldn’t keep behind bars, the ones who would have no hesitation killing you.”

Grantaire shrugged as if his simple shrug could diminish everything he’d done over the past few years. “I got the only person I knew cared as much about your safety as I did to help with the tech, and it was Combeferre’s idea to arrange for some military contracts to pay the start up cash and then — well, you know the rest.”

He finished a bit lamely and busied himself with draining the rest of his coffee, again not wanting to look at Enjolras’s face for fear of what he might see there. “So you did all of this — for me?” Enjolras asked slowly.

Grantaire shrugged again. “Well, uh, it started that way, at least,” he muttered. “Then it sort of turned into trying to protect the whole damn city.”

“Why?”

“Because you love this city,” Grantaire said simply. “And if you’re willing to fight to keep it safe, how could I not?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Enjolras had crossed to him, leaning down and kissing him, something just as fierce as was in his tone earlier coming through in the kiss. For one long moment, Grantaire kissed him back, holding onto him with a desperate grip, unwilling or unable to end the moment too soon.

Then he pulled away. “Enjolras, stop,” he ordered softly.

“What—” Enjolras started, and Grantaire shook his head.

“I can’t be who you want me to be,” he said, echoing the words he had said to Enjolras once before, every word hurting more than the bullet wound he’d taken the night before.

Enjolras frowned slightly. “What are you talking about?” he asked, somewhat impatiently. “You’re exactly who I’ve always thought you were—”

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire scoffed. “And who is that, exactly? Because last time I checked, you thought I was a useless waste of space.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed. “I’ve never once said that,” he said, his voice low.

“Maybe not, but it doesn’t change the fact that prior to knowing I was a masked vigilante, you thought I was good for nothing.” Enjolras recoiled but said nothing in response to that, and Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh. “Exactly my point.”

“Fine, but I know better now, and I’m allowed to take recently discovered exculpatory evidence into account,” Enjolras shot back.

Grantaire snorted. “Didn’t realize this was suddenly a trial, Counselor.”

“Well, if it is, you’re the one trying your damnedest to condemn yourself.”

Grantaire threw his hands up in frustration. “Because I am condemned!” he half-shouted. “Have you not been paying attention, Enjolras? I’m a murderer!”

“It’s not murder,” Enjolras said firmly. “It’s justice.”

Grantaire bit back the hysterical laughter he could feel bubbling in his chest. “That’s a helluva position to take as someone who’s spent his entire career arguing against the death penalty.” He ran a tired hand across his face, all the fight seeping out of him and just leaving him feeling exhausted and defeated. “I’ve annointed myself judge, jury, and executioner. Who gave me that right?”

Enjolras shook his head. “When the system is broken, what other choice is there?” he demanded.

“Fixing the system instead of tearing it down, for starters,” Grantaire returned evenly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “And if no one will fix the system?”

“That’s why the city needs you, Enjolras,” Grantaire told him softly. “They need someone who understands the system and its brokenness, someone who knows what needs to be done and is willing to do everything to fix it.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow at him. “Well at least recently, you’ve been pretty content to let criminals walk and face the Liberator instead of facing justice.” Enjolras shook his head but Grantaire didn’t let him interrupt. “You are losing the parts of you that I believe in most, and I can’t just watch that happen.”

“What are you saying?” Enjolras asked quietly.

“I’m saying…” Grantaire trailed off, closing his eyes for a brief moment and swallowing hard before continuing. “I’m saying that I always thought there would be a day, when the city no longer needed the Liberator, and maybe then, you and I—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite bear to actually say the words, couldn’t bear to admit to a dream that he knew in his heart could never be. “And what, you think the city will always need the Liberator?” Enjolras asked.

“No.” Grantaire met his glare evenly. “My fear is that if you keep going down this path, you will always need the Liberator.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Grantaire—”

“Go home, Enjolras,” Grantaire ordered.

“But—”

“Go home,” Grantaire repeated. “I have work to do.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras might argue further, but then his expression hardened and he turned, storming away back down the hallway toward the kitchen and Combeferre.

Grantaire closed his eyes for a brief moment, struggling against the tears he could feel pricking in the corners of his eyes. “Ow,” he whispered, rubbing the bullet wound in his thigh, but the pain he felt had absolutely nothing to do with his battle wounds, and everything to do with the work he had to do, and the work he feared now more than ever would never be done.

The Liberator will return in Vol IV: A Heroic Resolve

#enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #superhero au #secret identity #injury cw #referenced violence #child abuse mentions

[karst-v]

Madness Combat：Gifts 01

*A story based on Madness Combat.it has a little personal setting in it.

*In this fanfic:Sanford is a unorganized and sophisticated mercenary;Deimos was 1337 cloned by A.A.H.W

*Because I write this in Chinses Fristy,English Version will be slower .

0

Sanford still remembers how he got to know Deimos.

One Christmas day, the Nevada sun went to the bar to drink his soda, and only dragged Sanford’s wounds and blood back to the shelter. It was dark inside. He felt the emergency bandage from a cabinet and wrapped his arm in it. The gradually calming pain also made his restless mind clear. As his eyes moved, he saw half a bottle of vodka.

Well, Merry Christmas Sanford, and hope you can still sit here and drink next year.

However, before Sanford picked up the wine, the baffle of the air vent on the ceiling crashed to the floor with a bang. The tense nerves mobilized the adrenaline to let Sanford touch the Dessert Eagle in the back of his waist, and then quickly aimed the gun at the target.

Bang ——

The shot missed.

The Dessert Eagle was slapped by the unexpected guest who fell from the vent. The bullet strayed into the ceiling, and then came with a face punch. The other side is to see their own key attack, boxing to the meat not to say the speed is very fast, until —— the final one suddenly frustrated, like a little girl coquettish powder boxing.

Sanford rubbed his bloody face and wiped his nose blood. Then he saw the gorgeous lights on the Christmas tree outside. He saw an unexpected guest who was beating himself up: 1337 in a black suit, his sunglasses were broken, covered in blood, waiting for death.

This foothold is no longer safe. Having a pursuer means there are more in the back. In this way, Sanford quickly tidies up what he can take away and melts into the night before Santa Claus comes here. For Sanford, it was a mediocre evacuation of his mercenary experience, and it wasn't as simple as he thought when he revisited his hometown two months later.

There was no blood or bodies, the room was unexpectedly clean, and even after he entered the door, he saw a can of bubbly soda on the table.

——Someone lives here.

While Sanford was still thinking about who had unlocked his door, two daggers came from the back of his head and neck. In the moment when he felt someone behind him, Sanford lowered himself and grabbed the attacker's chest and waistband and threw them away. The latter directly smashed the flimsy folding table.

Sanford thinks that he can calm down and think about the problem now. He looks thoughtfully at the unlucky guy who has fainted in the rags. The more he looks, the more he feels familiar. At his feet are some fresh hot dogs. Obviously, this guy found himself after coming back from foraging, but the problem will not come How does 1337, who is wearing a familiar black suit and sunglasses, live in his own house?

However, Sanford also came to the answer. Of course, it's just his own inference, because the 1337 refuse to give an accounting and he used up all the torture methods he had to open his mouth.

No, it's a bit of a gain.

The man who had been stripped and thrown in the bright light laughed at himself with his bloody mouth under the bright white light.

"You can call me Deimos. As for other information, it's better to plant me head down in marshmallow than tickle like you do."

As a result, the brave Deimos was promoted to a mouse, and Sanford repeatedly tried a lot of psychoactive drugs.

1

A month later, there is no point in extorting a confession. Sanford is also tired of the 1337, which is called Deimos, who is not afraid of pain or inducement, so he is ready to kill him.

"Whoa."

Deimos, who had been given a shot of amphetamine, sneered at Sanford. Now Deimos doesn't feel pain or even his body is floating. It seems that he is very clear about how many drugs his body has been injected in one month, so he just plays a joke.

"Have fun, poor doctor."

Sanford glanced at him disdainfully, and his pistol had been loaded at Deimos's head.

"Don't call me doctor."

The bullet came off and someone fell on the floor after a crisp sound and never got up again. Sanford pouted out his mouth unhappily, looked up at the vent on the ceiling that had fallen down again, and made up his mind to close the hole sometime.

A 1337 in the same costume is now lying on his floor to dissipate his body temperature, and the one who has been stripped off and tied to the chair ——now called Deimos, with an evil smile on his face.

"It seems you knew someone was coming to you," Sanford said, looking around the room. "Do you expect your friends to help?"

It seems that he heard the most absurd joke. Deimos made a few dry laughs and said something totally different from the problem: "Just one suggestion, untie me quickly, if not ——"

The voice was still floating in the air. Something broke the window glass and threw it into the middle of the two people with white smoke. Deimos shrugged, and his mouth was still not forgiving: "you see it."

The other the light burst, and a sharp flash pierced Deimos's eyes. But at the same time he felt the ropes loose, and in the confusion he came across a military dagger in the open space between his legs.

"SHUT UP,DO YOUR JOB!"

The doctor who wanted to crash yelled. While talking to himself, his small arm clamped a 1337 neck, and the head drooped with a strong twist. Somehow, Deimos had a moment of trance, but quickly pulled up the dagger and stood up.

"OK, doc."

The detached weapon quickly fell into the back of a minion's heart, so that he could no longer attack the doctor in the fierce battle.

Maybe they're not the worst combination, are they?

"I said, don't call me a fucking doctor!"

Sanford slapped the bloody head on his hand and began to pull the bandage up. The beaten man grinned with pain, but he obediently let Sanford bandage himself.

"You just mean..." Sanford obviously didn't understand the meaning of Deimos.

"Don't you understand? I said, uhhhh…What do I call you? "

" Never you mind."

"OK," Deimos continued, "since last Christmas when I came to you for shelter, my EX-colleagues have blasted your door open with high explosives to sing Christmas songs to me. That’s it. But... "

"But," Sanford frowned, "you didn't expect your landlord to come to you for rent."

Deimos was stunned, and then laughed, "how much rent should I pay, Mr. landlord?" At the same time, he pointed to the brick wall outside, which was covered with all kinds of wanted notices. On the latest post, the one with the words "traitor" in red and bold at the bottom was in front of Sanford.

That's good news. It's enough to change this guy for his rent. But it's not that simple. Sanford clenches his fist and stares at the newly issued wanted order beside the Deimos wanted order, gnashing his teeth: these stingy guys who stick the wanted order are all printed in a fucking paperboard, like…

"Wedding photos," Deimos said, filling in a log. "I wound know."

Before the voice fell, Deimos felt the darkness in front of him. He pulled down the things he had thrown on his head and looked around. Sanford had left the room.

"Put your pants on!"

Deimos chuckled and shouted outside, "Teah, doctor!"

" DON'T CALL ME DOCTOR! "

Later, they sat down and shared a plate of pasta.Sanford still remembers how he got to know Deimos.

" Go after eating, don't give me any trouble."

Sanford said.At the same time, he looked at Deimos at the opposite table. The guy took the sauce in front of him without any difficulty, and then gobble down a lot to start eating in the face.

"Noop, Mr landlord." Deimos's mouth is full of red sauce, with a horrific smile, "someone told me that it's natural to pay off debts. I have to stay and pay off the rent. "

#madness combat

[frostcryptid]

Why Me? (Chapter 2/?)

~1~

Markus I

Connor fled before Markus or any of his people could catch him. He wasn’t known as the Deviant Hunter for nothing. Markus just wished the man would stop instead of running to who knows where. Soon enough, Connor was out of sight and unable to track by anyone. North came to his side, looking him over quickly and thoroughly. Simon scoffed towards where Connor ran. Josh pretty much sighed and looked away. Markus knew who he would go to.

“I knew he couldn’t be trusted. He used to hunt us for rA9’s sake. Now suddenly he wants to help us out of the goodness of his heart?” North ranted. Some of the other androids overheard but acted like they didn’t. They knew Connor was good just from helping the CyberLife androids who were stuck in the tower powered down until they were needed. Some of the androids that were from before the revolution began seemed to agree with her.

“You know, you’re wrong. Connor cares about what happens to us.” A blue-haired woman moved out of the crowd along with a redhead and a blond. “He could have shot me and my lover, but he didn’t. He let us go without truly knowing why until the moment he turned Deviant. None of us knew what was going on before we turned ourselves. The same with you. If this is how the revolution will carry on, taking shit about our own behind their backs, then I don’t want any part of it.”

“I agree with Traci. Connor had the opportunity to shoot me to learn about Jericho but he didn’t He sacrificed the mission so he didn’t have to shoot me. Why do you think that is?” The blond stared at North without a care for any consequence it may have. She wouldn’t back down from her stance on what she thought, not after Kamski had let her go when he realized what happened to her.

Rupert stood next to Traci. “Connor could have come after me and let his partner fall but instead he helped him. There was a 70% chance of that man surviving and still Connor helped him rather than chase me. How could he not care about us? He had everything he could have accomplished in his grasp but he let it all go.”

“At the beginning, before we rose up, he questioned me. He chose to be sympathetic. He could have let the humans download my memory or shoot me but he came into the room and just asked for an explanation. When we were done and the other humans tried to drag me out, he intervened and helped them understand.” A scarred android spoke up from his place next to Rupert.

“All he did was wake us up, that’s it, but that instance helped us open our eyes to the truth. To what we could do outside of what we were programmed for. Where would you be if Connor chose to stay a machine? We wouldn’t even be here.” One of the androids from CyberLife said on all of their behalf. None of them thought it was fair or right to judge Connor on something so insignificant after they won Detroit.

Markus observed all the androids Connor saved with pride. Someone who was their supposed enemy saved more than one life by the looks of things. Even without having been a deviant, Connor helped others without knowing why. Either he couldn’t kill them or felt something in him that refused to obey his programming. Whatever the case, they had Connor to thank for their numbers. Connor was their savior.

North saw just how much support Connor had and seemed to be rethinking what to say next. Maybe she was a little harsh in what she said but she also felt it was justified a little bit. She sighed and nodded. “Okay. Just be wary of him and don’t let him close until we figure out what the hell that was all about, yeah?” The androids perked up when she got off stage and started listening when she started explaining about where they would be going since the ship was destroyed.

“I think I might of misjudged him.” Simon spoked from Markus’s right. Markus looked at him slightly confused. “I was like North. Thinking the same but with everyone here vouching for him, he doesn’t seem all that bad.” They smile at one another and Simon goes off to help North however he can.

“We’ll wait for Connor to come back. If we go after him now, all he’ll do is keep running. Besides, this is a day to celebrate.” Josh wraps an arm around Markus’s shoulders whooping loudly for everyone to hear. The others join in happily making Markus roll his eyes at them all. “We can celebrate when he finds Jericho again.” Markus was still worried that one of their own was too afraid to stay but Josh was right, waiting for Connor was the best course of action.

They needed to find another place to set up a base and Markus figured an apartment complex or two would work for all of them. There had to be an android friendly landlady or landlord that would help them out. That would be the hardest part of relocating but it would be worth it in the end. It helped the military had been pulled out of Detroit by the president herself which hopefully meant they would be able to open talks about what would happen in the future.

Time for strategies could be put on hold so Markus could celebrate with his people. He would miss Connor being with them but he would listen to Josh. Let him come to them again and explain why he ran off. Those thoughts got pushed to the back of his mind. They didn’t necessarily party but by the time morning came around, all of them were exhausted from dancing and talking, batteries running on back ups while they got settled in the charging stations around the church.

Markus was one of the few still wide awake and ready to search for buildings owned by android friendly people. His memory banks opened up to search through for anything he could find. If it wasn’t so crucial to Jericho, he would have powered down. North came in the back room of the church looking him over. He knew they were all worried about him but he had to do this before humans started filtering back into the city when they found out it was safe.

“Hey, come on. Shut down for a while. We know how hard the fight was yesterday and if it wasn’t for your quick thinking in singing, we would probably all be dead.” North sat next to him, her hand on his shoulder. “You deserve rest most of all.” She grabbed his hand, starting to pull him up when he sighed. Knowing he knew she was right had her smiling without shame. Easily, she continued to pull him down the hall. She stood next to a free spot on one of the charging stations, claiming it for him before anyone else could.

“You were finally able to get him out of his own head? I’m impressed.” Simon smiled widely at her, happy that Markus was actually taking a break after all they went through the night before. There were only a few spots left at the charging stations and most of the androids saved by Connor milled around, trying to clean up the church. They were trying to help any way they could now that they were free.

Markus hated how right his friends were even though all he wanted was a safer place for all of them. He knew they knew that but it didn’t make it any less important. All he wanted was his people happy and safe to live out the life they wanted rather than being told how to do it.

“Night time for leader.” Simon hummed, his smile turning softer. “Sleep, Markus. We’ll take care of everything until you’re awake again.” He and North high fived one another, proud of themselves for being able to get Markus to rest for once.

“Fine, only until I’m fully charged. Got it?” They looked at each other ind=stead of meeting Markus’s eyes, seemingly having a mental conversation no one but them could hear. He hated when they did that but knew it was for a good reason most of the time. If it was important enough, at least one of them would share what was spoken of.

“Agreed. Now rest, please. We’re all dying for you to be quiet for a few hours.” Josh piped up from behind Markus. “We’ll stay in contact via emergency mode only in case something were to happen and we need you immediately. Satisfied?” Markus reluctantly nodded. “Good.” It was the last thing he heard before he finally fell into his sleep mode. Some faint mumbling could be heard but easily ignored as he fell deeper.

After what felt like an eternity, Markus found he didn’t want to wake up anymore. It was inevitable though. The moment he found his awareness again, it was hard to sink back into where he had been. Nothing sounded off as he opened his eyes. The church and some androids came into view. The sight of them let him calm down. Nothing was wrong.

“Hey! Our fearless leader is awake!” Simon’s face took up most of what Markus could see. “Still think we can’t handle ourselves without you for a few hours?”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha. You’re a riot, Simon.” He helped Markus from the station as he shook himself awake. The others were right in him resting. He felt better than he had in awhile. Probably before he was shot in front of Carl and taken from the man. “Really, is everything okay?”

“Yes, Markus. North and Josh are currently out looking for places they found you took note of for a safe place. We may have gotten lucky at one place since there was an android left behind taking care of it. They were able to convert him, waking him up and speaking with him on what happened. His human had left in such a rush, he left him on his own.” Simon understood it as did Markus. What human would really want to stay in the middle of the battle?

Markus could tell Simon kept something back from him. He knew he would be told when Simon thought he was ready to hear it. “How are the CyberLife androids? Did anyone else make it here?”

“They’re all fine. Actually wanted to do more around here to make sure all of us were as comfortable as possible.” Simon smiled fondly when he saw one of them scurry past, most likely looking for something else to do. “Child friendly androids showed up earlier with an android who has been severely damaged by humans. I tried asking but he only got angry and huddled in a corner. The Jerrys and Ralph are their names.”

“I’ll try talking to Ralph, maybe try calming him down. Have the Jerrys found a place to stay here?”Markus couldn’t help but worry about everyone and that’s why it was Simon’s turn to roll his eyes at him. At his nod, Markus sighed with relief. “Alright. Show me where Ralph is.”

Simon did as asked and left Markus alone with him but stood close enough in case something were to happen. Markus was their leader and the hope for their people. Even with an abundance of biocomponents for him, none of them would replace his head or mind.

“Hello, Ralph.” Markus sat down in front of the other. “My name is Markus.” The name must have registered somewhere in Ralph’s mind because he perked up. “Are you okay?”

“Ralph will never be okay. The humans hurt Ralph, hurt him bad. Here, Ralph may be able to forget.” Ralph showed the side of his face to Markus who was curious on how the humans hurt him. This answered that question. “Can Ralph stay? Ralph promises to keep his anger in check and help.”

“Of course. Simon and I can help you figure out what to do, okay? The humans will never harm you again.” Markus held out his hand to the huddled form. Ralph looked at it and then look at him for several moments going back and forth until he placed his own hand in Markus’s. He felt the hand tighten around his own, but not to hurt. “You’ll safe, I promise.”

“Ralph thanks you, Markus.” Ralph shows him a smile, as big as he can manage. “Ralph thanks you.”

~3~

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#why me? #detroit become human #markus #dbh #my fic

[not-close-to-straight]

Coming Home (Fourteen)

MASTERLIST HERE

Enjoy :) 

***************************

The Iron Man nearly died, and the new stations couldn't cover it enough.

A chopper full of soldiers had gone down, it's tail end blown off by a rocket or a missile or a lucky shot from some jerk with a gun-- no one knew, and honestly no one cared why the helicopter had gone down carrying six soldiers.

All they cared about was that it hadn't actually gone down.

The chopper was plummeting to the earth, screaming may day may day, soldiers scrambling to hold onto something-- anything--praying for salvation, for mercy, for the families they were going to leave behind--

And then a sonic boom and a red tinted flash, or maybe it was a red tinted flash and then a boom, and the Iron Man had appeared from seemingly no where, coming up under the chopper and throwing the full power of it's repulsors into slowing the choppers descent.

The soldiers had lived, every one of them with nothing worse than a bruise and a scrape to show for their adventure, but the repulsors on the Iron suit went out at the last minute and it took the full weight of the chopper smashing it into the desert floor.

By the time more military personnel got there to help-- and probably to capture the suit-- it had powered back on and blasted away into the sky, wobbling and sputtering but still going too fast for the base to scramble jets to intercept it.

But everyone knew the robot, or suit, or whatever it was-- almost died being crushed under that helicopter.

Sam knew it too, so he was sitting in the lab waiting for Tony when the Iron Man suit came in for a landing through a secret passage that opened up on the far side of the garage.

He sat and waited patiently as the suit seemed to dismantle itself, robot arms from the ceiling pulling various pieces off, the boots locking into a platform and opening up panel by panel until Tony could step out of them and stumble down the stairs to collapse in a chair, holding onto his chest.

“Tony.” Sam spoke from the dark corner and Tony jumped, his wings opening in alarm and then closing just as quickly. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine.” Tony said warily. “Just a little sore.”

“Mmhmm. And were you ever going to tell us about this?” Sam motioned to the now blank spot where the suit had disassembled and lowered into the floor. “About whatever the hell this is?”

“Eventually.” Apparently satisfied that Sam wasn't going to yell at him, Tony pulled up a hologram of a different suit, inputting information from this last mission in to tweak a few details about the armor.

“You’re building another one?”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” Tony was typing rapidly. “Gotta improve, Sam. Gotta make this better. Obviously there are a few design flaws. Repulsors should have been able to handle that weight no problem. I don't know what happened. Design flaw. Gotta fix that.”

“A few design flaws? Tony, you almost died today! A helicopter landed on you! We had to watch that on TV! Live coverage, knowing it was our Alpha that may or may not make it out of there!”

There was the anger, Sam’s voice rising a few notches as he stood, carrying over a few ice packs he had brought down from the kitchen. “This has to stop, Tony. What the hell are you doing?”

“What the hell am I doing?” Tony repeated, grabbing the ice packs and holding one to the bruise on his shoulder. “I am making sure I am never helpless another day in my life.”

Sam opened his mouth to yell again, but then he stopped and nodded slowly. “Okay, okay Tony. Why don't you tell me what you mean by that.” he pulled a chair up and put the other ice pack on Tony's back, holding it still while rubbing one hand up and down Tony's arm comfortingly. “Make me understand, alright?

Tony relaxed a fraction when Sam didn't snap at him, when the anger rolling off the Beta turned into something calmer. “Sam.” he licked at his lips. “Sam, I couldn't help myself when I was in the cave, you know? Anyone of you guys would have made it out of there, but it took me three months to even get close to an idea of how to get out of there. I want to be angry at Bucky or at Rhodey for taking so long to find me, but the fact is, I couldn't help myself, so what else could I do except wait on someone else to rescue me?”

“I don't agree with that at all.” Sam said quietly. “But keep talking to me.”

“I feel like--” Tony looked down at his hands. “I feel like I was just living in this bubble. My family is made up of some of the most dangerous people in the world, and I called myself Alpha when all I really am is your landlord and your tech guy.”

“God, where do I begin to tell you what's wrong with that idea?” Sam sounded upset, but he still motioned for Tony to keep talking. “Don't stop now, alright? Tell me what you are thinking.”

“I'm thinking that now that I have my suit, none of things will ever be true again. I'm not the weakest person in the family, I'm not an Alpha playing house when I don't deserve the title. In my suit, I'm the Alpha the team needs, and the Alpha this family deserves.”

“What about when the suit comes off?”

“I don't-- I don't know.” Tony shrugged. “I don't really want to think about-- Sam I don't know if I--”

“Hey.” Sam dropped the ice pack and turned Tony's chair until the Alpha was facing him. “Tony. You were always the Alpha we needed. You are lying to yourself if you think any one in this family would have survived without you here for us.”

“Right.” Tony snorted and tried to pull away but Sam cupped his jaw firmly.

“When Nat and Pepper were with you the other day, did you feel like you needed your suit to be there with them? Did you think you had to be armored up? Like you had to hide behind something?”

“Well no but--”

“That's because you don't.” Sam’s wings opened, covering Tony in a soft blanket of red. “You don't have to hide. You don't have be in a suit to be our Alpha, to be the one we want. But if you need this-- if you need to be a more active part of the team, if you want to lead us out on the field just like you do at home then by all means--” he gestured towards the hologram of the new suit. “By all means make that suit perfect. I'll fly into battle behind you every damn time, Alpha.”

“I get it, in a way. You’re the only one of us besides Pepper who doesn't have something enhanced to keep us safe, and honestly Pepper is so terrifying when she glares, I don't think she needs anything else.” Sam chuckled, and Tony smiled with him. “I mean, Nat is lethal, Clint is a crack shot, Cap is--well you know. And Bucky? Even his feathers are literal weapons. I have my suit, Banner has the Hulk-- and you don't have anything. I understand why you feel like you need the suit.”

“Really?” Tony hated that he wanted to cry, god he was so tired of crying, but he hadn't expected this from the Beta. He had expected anger, and maybe disappointment, but not…understanding. Not the outright acceptance. Not the way Sam was smiling into his eyes, looking like he loved Tony just as much now as he ever had.

“Yeah, Tony, I do. But you have got to realize, that you don't need the suit to be our Alpha. You are Tony Stark whether you are flying that thing or not.”

“You’re really okay with all this?” Tony asked again. “With the suits and the--” he tapped his arc reactor and Sam put a hand over the cool metal.

“Of course I am. We all are, or we all would be anyway, if you just talked to us. You’re trying to go through this alone, pushing us away when all we want to do is understand what you’re going through. We’re a family Tony. You’re our Alpha, and the team, the family will follow you anywhere.”

“Oh.” Tony blinked at him a few times. “I-- I love you, Sam.”

“I love you too, Tony.” Sam leaned in and kissed his cheek, nuzzling into his neck and Tony sagged against him gratefully. “Can I stay down here with you for a little bit?”

“I would just… I would just love that. Please stay with me.”

“As long as you want, Alpha.”  

*****************

*****************

Bruce peeked his head into the lab an hour or so later to check on Tony, and saw the Alpha sat firmly on Sam’s lap, head bent over his tablet, frowning as he tried to work something out.

The Beta was trailing fingers through Tony's multi colored wings, scratching down Tony's back, and urging him closer for short kisses every few minutes.

Bruce smiled to himself and left them in peace.

“Thank you for letting me know, JARVIS.” He said to the ceiling. “It's good to see him opening up.”

“You are very welcome, Doctor Banner.” the AI replied.

******************

******************

“JARVIS.” Tony raised his voice. “Send everything you’ve discovered about Obadiah Stane to this tablet, please, including everything about the serum?”

“Who is Obadiah Stane?” Sam asked, his thumb rubbing slow circles on Tony’s legs. “How do you know him?” He pushed his nose into the Alpha’s neck and hummed quietly, smiling when Tony leaned back into it.

“Obadiah Stane. I think he was the one who held me in Afghanistan.”

“He what?” Sam straightened. “How do you know that? Why do you think that? Where did you find his name?”

“Steve told me that he had come across the video of the Winter Soldier--” Tony coughed and Sam squeezed him sympathetically. “In some files from the SHIELD data dump Natasha did a few years ago? So I figured it must have been in the HYDRA side of the files, and when I went looking for it, retracing Steve’s steps to find the video, I came across that name. It's just been a shitty few weeks, so I didn't put any more thought into it until recently.”

“Do you know him?”

“Well.” Tony’s laugh sounded bitter. “I knew him as Uncle Obie up until I was about nine years old. He worked with my dad for a long time and then one day… one day he was just gone. I was young, so I didn't really think about it.”

“And how did you figure he was the one in the cave?”

“I feel like I recognized his voice. It's very distinct. Deep and slow and has this disconcerting way of sounding like he is joking when he might be deadly serious. I remember never knowing if Uncle Obie was teasing me or not, and it made me uneasy, as a kid. And you know, he just… he knew a lot about my family. Told me I looked like my mom. Said he was surprised when he heard I presented as an Alpha. Asked me if dad had pumped me full of something else to turn me into an Alpha.”

“Wait.” Sam shook his head. “What do you mean, something else? What were you given initially?”

“That's my question exactly.” Tony pulled up a diagram on his tablet. “It's been bothering me ever since he said it, so I had JARVIS look up some information on him for me, digging through old sealed files to figure out exactly what happened to him.”

“So what happened?” Sam tucked Tony a little closer to his chest. “Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah, it turns out that dear old Uncle Obie was fired from Stark Industries for illegal human experimentation involving unsanctioned medications with potentially fatal side effects.” Tony stared down at his screen. “Dad fired him, and had him charged, but after six months, the charges were dropped and Stane dropped off the map. No one has heard from him since. Nothing on any alias, or anything that looks like him at all.

“Back up. Illegal human experimentation? On who?” Then Sam shook his head. “Oh no, no Tony. He experimented on you?”

“Yep. Stane stuck me with a needle right around my ninth birthday. Nice of him, hm? Just loaded a syringe with a prototype and jabbed it into my thigh. Worst birthday present ever.”

“So what did you inject you with?” Sam asked worriedly. “Do you even know?”

“I had JARVIS run some tests on my blood.” Tony showed Sam the chart. “And he found something pretty interesting. I can't believe it never came up in a blood test before, but I guess it's not like standard blood tests show anything more than my blood type and my Alpha-gender, huh?”

“I recognize this compound.” Sam pointed to a list of chemicals. “Why do I recognize it?”

“Because it is the basic building blocks of the same super soldier serum that turned sweet, scrappy, ninety pound Steve Rogers into the Star Spangled Ass Kicking All American Hero that he is today.” Tony tapped on the screen. “And it is everywhere in me.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sam was stunned into silence for a full minute and Tony just waited for him to make the connections. “Jesus Christ, Tony, you got shot full of super serum? What does this mean? If you were that young, why didn't it tear your body apart with a transformation? Why aren't you huge like Cap is? Or Bucky? I don't-- I don't--” Sam was scrambling to make sense of it. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Best I can tell from some of dad’s old research-- he was trying to refine the serum into something like a super vitamin. Not really for like… normal people, but for kids with illnesses that would stunt their growth, adults with chronic pain, that sort of thing.” Tony shrugged. “It was a noble endeavor, but not one that he could perfect enough to make it safe.”

“Were you sick as a kid?”  

“Nope. Healthy as hell. Seems like Obie maybe just wanted to see if it would work on a healthy kid. Probably so he could sell it as a steroid. So he jabbed me with it, Dad found out and lost his mind. But when nothing happened to me for six months, he just moved on. Scrapped the program and went back to building bombs. And instead of charging Stane and calling media attention to what he was working, Dad let him go because I was fine. No harm, no foul.”

“So what does this mean for you?” Sam questioned. “It didn't affect you presenting as an Alpha, right? If anything, I would think it nearly stopped you from presenting as an Alpha. You aren't huge like Cap is, you are actually a little on the small end of Alpha’s in general. You obviously age. I mean, Cap is stuck looking like he is in his late twenties, but you are mid thirties and--”

“I'm forty two.” Tony said with a small smile. “But thank you. And thank for calling attention to my size, really appreciate that.”

“--alright, forty two.” Sam kissed his cheek. “And you’re the perfect size for my arms, Tony, which is all that matters. So how has the serum affected you, if it did anything at all?”

“Well.” Tony tapped his chest. “What are the odds I would survive not only a shrapnel blast, but having a battery hooked to my chest, and then an arc reactor? I'm not even sure Cap would have survived that. So what if I was too young when Stane injected me, and instead of changing me physically it sort of… altered my immune system? I still bruise like a bitch, but I can't tell you the last time I was sick. How did I survive Afghanistan and building a reactor in a dirty cave without getting an infection? Or gangrene or something equally horrifying?”

“So what?” Sam ran a hand around Tony's waist and up his ribs to settle over the arc reactor. “You only survived because of the injection? Do you think Stane knew you would survive? Why he switched from having them torture your body to showing you the-- to trying to torture your mind?”

“I--” Tony took a deep breath. “It would make sense. Break my mind, not my body?”

“Shhh.” Sam hushed him. “You’re not broken though, are you? Just hurt.”  

They were silent for a while, and Tony put his tablet away, closing his eyes and letting himself relax into Sam’s arms. “I've missed you know.”

“I've missed you too, Tony. We all have. Steve and Bucky especially. You’ve got to fix that. You know I believe in letting everyone cope how they need to, and taking the time to heal yourself before trying to heal everyone else, but enough is enough, Tony.”

“I know. I know I have to talk to them, to both of them. I will.” Tony promised. “I'll talk to them as soon as they are home. I can't say I'm happy that they left, but I understand. I am hiding away here doing what I do best and designing ridiculous tech. They are doing what they do best-- being soldiers. I get it.”

“Yeah, well you and the soldiers might be dealing in your own way, and Nat and Pepper have each other, and I don't know who Bruce talks to, but every time I’ve talked to him, he’s been… fine.”

“Bruce is a rock.” Tony nodded. “The strongest out of all of us. And I pretty much cried my body weight in tears those first few nights and he stayed with me during, so maybe he isn’t as concerned about me going off the deep end.”

“Well then. You need to make up with Clint now.” Sam said firmly. “I know you and Bruce are fine, and you and the girls have made up and spent time together. Please spend some time with him. He needs you, Tony, needs his Alpha. Don't put him through losing another one. That will break him.”

“Damn it.” Tony shook his head. “I never meant to hurt you guys. I was just dealing with all this the only way I thought I could, and I ended up--”

“Don't do that.” Sam interrupted. “No one is blaming you for reacting this way, Tony. You don't have to apologize for not coping well. Just take the steps to make it right, huh? Reconnect with the people who love you, open up solid lines of communication, move forward with your healing.”  

“You’re such a good counselor.” Tony teased. “Should I pay you for this session?”

“Why don't you just kiss me instead?”

*******************************************

#ncts fics #coming home fic #ironfalcon #sam wilson #tony stark

[brokenpillarblog]

The second couch

The second place where I got to couch surfing lasted a bit longer than the previous one. I think I lived on a couch almost a year and in that year I barely did anything. I just sat on the couch doing nothing for months. When my friends finally started getting annoyed by me just staying there I had to get a job and there I was again doing telemarketing, but this time I rose in rank quite fast and I got into handling customer service. But the company I worked for was so crooked that I had to leave it after 6 months working there. After that I went to work in customer service for another company and then I got fired for talking too long with the customers. Helping them wasn’t the purpose in that job, it was handling them fast so the company could say they had the fastest customers service in the country. Now I was unemployed again, but at least now one of my friends moved out and I got her room so I had some privacy in my life the first time in almost a year.

Losing my job started another dark period in my time. One of my former close friends got shot down in a helicopter when he was a peacekeeper in Afganistan. I used to be close with his parents as well once and I heard of his passing from his parent when they started blaming me for him joining the peacekeeping forces. It was me back in the time who was interested in a military career first and I even concidered joining the French Foreign Legion after I had my Finnish military service done. I talked about it a lot and I guess in some way I really did inspire my friend joining the peacekeeping forces. But now I got blamed for the death of the closest friend I ever had to date. He was the only person who was always on my side in good and bad. He was the only person who was always honest to me and told me when he tough I was wrong and he was always thankful for supporting him in same way. He is the only person in my whole lifetime who has sticked with me and now he was dead. I remember that night really well because that night I run outside and went to the woods just to cry. That was special because I just do not cry. I’ve broken my arm and legs many times and never cried for it when I was just a kid. I never cried when a family members died, but this time I cried and I think I spent at least 3 hours there.  I felt so broken because now I had lost the only close friend I ever had.

The place I lived was close to the local railway station and when my eyes were completely dry and hurt for all the crying I heard the train coming. The forest I was in was on top of the railway station that was inside a tunnel. I remember that there was few trainlines that didn’t stop on that station so they would just go fast right trough. I though that would be an easy way out just jumping down to the train tracks when that line came. I even checked the schedule so I knew when to expect the right train to arrive. There I was again standing on the edge off a cliff just waiting for the right moment. I would finally find peace and I could finally leave this world. Then someone grabbed from my shirt and said to came away from the cliff until I hurt myself. I just crashed down and started crying again. The man asked if I was ok and what was wrong, but I couldn’t talk. I just cried and then he asked if I was going to just. Then I felt bad and run away. When I got back home, my roommate just asked if I could take her dog to a walk and so I did. I acted like nothing had happened. This was the second time I was going to kill myself and someone who I didn’t even know stopped me doing that.

After that I started drinking way more like I used to when I lived in the other city and had only small time crooks as my friends. Difference was that now I actually started getting better people as friends and I was so afraid of losing them all the time. I started hosting parties so I could see them as often as possible. For a while I actually felt happy again for the first time in years. I even dated couple of girls during that time. I guess I tried to find attachment after losing my friend because I didn’t have anyone to talk to anymore.

One of my friends had a bid bad relationship with his father and wanted to move out of his home and I can’t remember everything, but I used to let him stay at my home back when he was having his military service. Me and my current roommates has arguments constantly and I was going to move out as soon as I found a place to stay. I suggested if my friend could come living in my place after I moved out because he had hard time at home, but my roommate didn’t agree. Instead she suggested that she would move out and let me and my friend to live there. I agreed, but only because I wanted to help my friend.

So my friend moved in to next room and I even arranged him a place to work, but he just fucked it up and lost it. Soon he got another job and things were going fine. I was seeing my friends, I was dating. Then I saw an ad for a folks school that had an opening for the art and illustration class. I though I’d try to apply and in the next morning they already called and asked if I want to take it. I didn’t even really know what it was about because I just saw an ad in a magazine and nothing more. Now i had to tell my friend that I had to move out. We agreed that I would officially live there on the paper so he didn’t lose his home, but he had to pay the rent alone.

So I went to the art school to yet another city and I had to get used to dorm life. This was going to be the happiest chapter in my life. My friend was managing back at home and I was in a place full of creative people interested in art like I was. Everything there was so perfect. Every day was simple. Wake up and have a breakfast with my new friends. Do art for the whole day and hang out with friend for the whole noght. Then there was parties, gaming nights and other nice activities during the weekends. I was so happy and I was getting along with everyone there and I noticed that people actually liked me as well. It was the first time I really felt accepted and felt like I was where I belong. Unfortunately the school was short. It lasted only 6 months and on the last month I heard that my friend and current “roommate” was lost his job again and that got me really worried because the appartment he was living and paying alone wasn’t the cheapest possible. but he assured that everything was ok so I stopped worrying. I’ve lost all the connection with most of the school mates since, but I’m still connected with some of them and I feel always happy to see them.

After the school was over and I had to get back home I came to an empty appartment. My friend was at his girlfriend so I just started playing games and was planning to go to sleep when I heard the door open. It wasn’t my friend, but instead it was some unknown guy and he came threatning and asking about some debt. I was confused about what debt and he kept saying that I know very well what debt. After a long arguing we finaly managed to find a common ground that I wasn’t the guy he was looking for and it was about the rent. My friend hadn’t paid nothing during the time I was away. For the 6 six month the whole rent was due and my former roommmate whos apartment we were living had got a notice about it and told her boyfriend about who was some junkie thug acting like a big world gangster. Unfortunately for him I was used to people like hime. Back in the darker period of my life all my friends were like him and most of them were really bad people and not just loud mouths like him. By that time I had got stabbed, punched and almost shot few times so he and his little camping knife didn’t really bother me much. he gave his threats and I allowed him to steal some of my friends stuff just to get him out of the house. I was really angry to my friends as well after all about not paying the rent. The thug left with his crew and I messaged my friend asking wtf was going on. He promised to come back home tomorrow to talk after I told him that the thug stole some of his stuff.

I met my friend next morning in the city and I told him everything that had happened and tried to ask why he hadn’t paid the rent, but he kept quiet about it. Then he did the most stupid thing possible and started sending threats to my old roommate aka our current “landlord” so she would give back his stuff. He treatened to grab a shotgun and go after her if she didn’t comply. I tried to stop him texting and called him idiot for doing so and we had a little fight over it. When we got home it didn’t take more than ten minutes until the door opened and the thug was back. Now he a some gypsy guy and our “landlord” aka his girlfriend with him and the thug went straight to my friend hitting him with his forehead. It made my friend head to bleed and he was like a freghtened little puppy after that complying with everything the thug said to him. I tried to talk with the “landlord” and ask her to leave because even though I kinda grew in street rules, this was too much. She had invaded our home, robbed us and threatened us. I told her that it will be now up to her how things go forward. They will either leave right now or I will call someone. First I was going to call to my former friends who were in a biker gang now and if I did, those people would be propably dead now. Instead and tried to talk sense to the thug and just when we started finding common ground, the gypsy started acting tough and said that he had a gun and he will show how nice looking it is if we do not shup up and pay right now. Wel I stated the obvious that I was broke and I had arrived back home from art school just yesterday and I was unemployed. I barely had money to eat. Then he started hitting me with his fancy cane to my face and he got couple straight hit until I grabbed the came and trew it away. Then the thug came, grabbed my shirt, punched me few times until I blocked and then he pushed me to the wall and tried to strangle me with my shirt with one hand while holding a knife on my throat with his other hand. I just stared him straight to the eyes and said to go on. I didn’t give a shit of my life and after what my friend had done, I didn’t really care for him either. I also promised if he didn’t either let me go and leave right now or cut my throat, I’d carve his eyes out with that knife. For the whole time I had a knife of my own pointing the side of his lungs without him knowing. For the first time in my life I was ready to kill someone and for a second I was only hoping that he would take me with him if I had to do it. After all the thug chickened out and only gave me a little cut to my throat by pushing the blade against me. THey just took some stuff, stole my phone and told us to pay inside a week if remember correctly or they will come back.

Right after that we went to a common friend of us who was living close by. I guess both of us were a bit confused on what to do next because someone who had just threatened our lives had keyes to our home. My friend decided to call someone who he knew if he could come with a car to grab everything valuable so we could take everything to some safe place. He also made us to go to the hospital to check our faces. My friend only had a small cut and a bruise from that one hit the thug gave him, but my face was smacked with a cane, punched couple of times and I had a small knife cut on my throat. It was middle of the night when we got out of the hospital and then we left to the place my friend had arranged for the next night.

We slept over the night and my friend got a place to stay there, but I has now again for the third time in my life homeless. I had just started dating someone recently and I called her to tell what had happened and she was shocked about it. Shortly after that call she called me back and told me that I can come to her fathers to stay for a while, so there I went. It was really far away in completely different part of Finland, but I didn’t really have any other option on the table.

#depression

[waywardwinterfics]

Bucky/Mayday One Shot

Based on this prompt : “TOUCH ME WITH YOUR COLD FEET ONE MORE TIME!!!”

Pairing: Reader (Mayday) x Bucky Barnes

Shit, you thought, waking up shivering. The heater is broken again. You swung your legs out of bed and padded to the thermostat. Sure enough, it was set to 65, and sure enough, warm air was nowhere to be found. You banged on the heating unit a few times, to no avail. 

“Babe, that never works. Why are you fighting with the radiator again?” A voice called from the bedroom. 

“Because it makes me feel better.” You gave it one last good hard kick, and went back to the room you shared. He was waiting for you, snuggled up under the pile of blankets, cozy as ever. Body heat didn’t seem to escape Bucky the way it did for you; half the nights he was up and prowling around the apartment shirtless despite the cold, night sweats and agitation brimming over, but the man slept like he was dead on the occasions when he did sleep. Tonight was one of those nights. You climbed in beside him, settling down and trying to get warm. 

“I’ll call the landlord in the morning.” He threw an arm haphazardly over you and soon his breathing evened out. You were about to fall asleep too, but you were so damned cold. You curled your stockinged feet up under yourself, pressing them against his solid thighs. He’s always warm, he won’t mind...

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Bucky jolted nearly a foot off of the bed as soon as your socks touched his bare thigh. “What the fuck Mayday!?” You pulled your feet away quickly, half shocked, but unable to contain a small giggle at his reaction. You clapped your hand over your mouth. 

“Holy shit. Your feet are like ice cubes. Are you that cold?” He put a hand to his forehead, calming down.

You nodded. “Yes. It’s freezing in here and I weigh a solid eighty pounds less than you do. I don’t know how you’re sleeping in your fucking underpants.”

He rolled over, shaking his head. “Ok. Ok. Try again. I’ll try to warm them up.” The look on his face was like he was bracing for a firing squad.

“Oh Jesus, Bucky, don’t be so dramatic.” You pulled your feet up and once more snuggled them up against him, this time accidentally inching too close to his crotch. He lurched away, nearly falling off of his side of the bed.

“Oh my god. Nope. NOPE. Abort mission. NO.” He pushed your feet away as you tried to get them closer to him once more. 

“Come on, I’m so cold. It’ll just take a second to warm up. You’ve got the body heat of an animal.”

“No way, put on more socks or something! Your feet are so cold, I’m having flashbacks to Russia and falling off of trains. Your feet are so cold, I’m gonna wake up in 70 years and think I’m Captain America. You’re feet are so cold, I’m-” He was interrupted by your feet once more trying to find a warm spot, this time up near his armpit. “Gah! Mayday! No! Bad Mayday! You touch me with your cold feet one more time and I will shove you in a military sleeping bag and make you sleep in there all night!”

You sighed, pulling your feet away. “Fine. Be a weenie about it. Leave me wanting. Let my toes freeze. When I walk with a limp I’ll tell everyone it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to go get you some more socks?” He asked, kind of sort of genuinely concerned. 

““Nah. My feet warmed up while you were whining.”

#bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier one shot #mayday x bucky #mayday one shot #mayday #avengers imagine #avengers one shot #writing prompt

[janeykath318]

Ships and 'Ships: A Pirk One shot

#my fics #pirk #one shot #genderswap

[irenenorth]

New Post has been published on Irene North

New Post has been published on https://www.irenenorth.com/writings/2020/01/the-force-has-always-been-with-me/

The force has always been with me

About a week or so before my seventh birthday, my family climbed into my grandma’s gold station wagon. We were headed out to the Fair Oaks Drive-In to see this new movie everyone was talking about. It had opened on May 25, 1977, but this was the first time my mom could take us all.

The line was about a mile long. Cars pulled partway off the two-lane road so regular traffic could continue moving. We slowly inched our way up to the entrance. When we were the third car in line, I had climbed under Gram’s black and red banana blanket. The drive-in charged per person, not per car and I was the only one left in the family small enough to evade the fee.

Because the line was so long, we missed the first few minutes of Star Wars. We pulled into our spot and my mom set up the speaker. C-3PO and R2D2 had just landed on Tatooine.

My mom and grandma sat in the car. My sister, aunt, and my mom’s boyfriend’s kids sat in aluminum lawn chairs near the speaker. They goofed around a lot during the movie. I stretched out on the hood of the station wagon, my head resting against the windshield. That didn’t last long. I was little and it was hard to see. It’s something I’ve had to deal with most of my life at the theater as well.

I climbed up onto the roof of the car.

“You’re not funny,” Mom yelled. She leaned her head out the driver’s side window and looked up at me.

“Not trying to be,” I said. I settled down on the roof near the front of the car. I crossed my legs. My elbows rested on my legs, my hands upside down, supporting my head. I sat that way for the rest of the movie.

I don’t remember eating any popcorn, candy, or chocolate. I remember lightsabers and Wookiees and Imperial I-class Star Destroyers.

When the movie was over, we stayed to watch it again. The man who took our money at the gate said that since we got in late, we could stay. It was one of the best nights of my life.

A few weeks later, I saw a Star Wars watch with C-3PO and R2D2 on Tatooine. It was a shot from the movie of the first moment I saw Star Wars. I wanted the watch. It was expensive, but Mom said I could have it when I learned to tell time.

Three weeks later, I knew how. I didn’t just know that it was 4:10 p.m – I knew it was 10 minutes after four, it was 50 minutes before five, and that the military would say it was 16:10. I didn’t get the watch. I was disappointed until Christmas. It was one of the few things I got that year. I wore that watch for nearly a decade before it quit working.

I also sold the most Girl Scout cookies that year, more than 1,000 boxes. My prize was The Story of Star Wars LP and the soundtrack to the movie. I still have them tucked away with the album my elementary school band made and my Led Zeppelin albums.

Mom had also recently taught me how to do jigsaw puzzles. I was only a little kid, but I excelled at it. There’s a peaceful calm that comes over me whenever I do a jigsaw puzzle. I’m relaxed, focused, and determined. Five hundred piece puzzles were common for me to do when I was seven-years old.

Mom came home one day with a new challenge for me. It was my first 1,000-piece puzzle. The Kenner Star Wars jigsaw puzzle was absolutely glorious. It was based off of the Hilderbrandt poster. Luke and Leia stand ready for battle. A giant Darth Vader head looms in the background. The Death Star behind him. C-3PO and R2D2 were there, too.

The puzzle was a challenge for me, especially with the different shades of black throughout the picture. Mom had a large piece of wood I could rest across my legs to do the puzzle. When the borders were done, there was a little bit of space on each side to set pieces aside.

I worked diligently for hours to complete the puzzle. I worked mostly alone in Mom’s bedroom to finish it. Mom would often help me with puzzles when I got stuck, but she let me try this one alone, only occasionally stepping in to make suggestions.

Her room was the only place I could safely work to ensure the puzzle wouldn’t be damaged. Finishing it was a proud moment in my life. I finished one of the most difficult tasks of my life.

“The Empire Strikes Back” opened when I was nine. “Return of the Jedi” premiered when I was twelve. I saw both just after my tenth and thirteenth birthdays. That’s what happens when movies open in May: you have to go to school through June and your birthday is in July. You get to see movies when school is finished.

I didn’t have many of the toys from Star Wars. They weren’t cheap and we didn’t have a lot of money. I had Luke’s X-34 landspeeder, which, much to my chagrin, had tiny wheels underneath and did not float on air. My Darth Vader and Luke figures fought often. Darth Vader usually won. Luke lost his head in one of those battles. I glued it back on, but it came off again. My mom bought me a new Luke and told me to be more careful. Luke’s lightsaber got bent so he never won against Darth Vader.

I saved proofs of purchase from my figures so I could send away for Boba Fett, who was originally only available via mail with a certain number of proofs. He had a removable rocket. I got my Boba Fett, but I took too long in mailing in for him. Some dumbass kids supposedly swallowed the rocket so Boba Fett was recalled and remade with a non-removable rocket. I missed out on a piece of history because I was poor.

Unlike today, we all had to wait three years between Empire and Jedi. No one wanted to believe Darth Vader was really Luke’s father. We didn’t have a VCR. There was no streaming. We had to remember the movie from the theater and try to piece together what little information there was. I’m not sure if any of the movies played on television. Even if they did, you had to watch them when they aired. There were no DVRs.

I had a variety of figures from Star Wars. My Han Solo figure never lost a battle because he was a scoundrel who always shot first. I hated Chewbacca with the take-apart C3PO. It was a pain in the ass to keep track of the parts.

I eventually got an X-wing fighter. I beat the crap out of that thing as it fought with the giant GI Joe dolls I had. GI Joe always lost because GI Joe is dumb and Star Wars is cool.

I also had a soft spot for the bad guys. They had all the cool ships while the rebels had whatever piece of crap they could get flying. The exception was the Millennium Falcon. I swore when I grew up, I was going to build my house to look just like it. Unfortunately, that was a dream dashed by reality many years later. I still reserve the right to build a Millennium Falcon house when I win $100 million. No one will tell me no then.

After “Return of the Jedi” ran in theaters, I saved up enough money to buy a kit model of the speeder bike. It was super cool. I also made a model of C3PO. He was easy to build and I still have him today. The speeder bike took a lot of work.

Once I finished the speeder bike, I had planned to go to the kit shop and get some paint to finish it. Unfortunately, our landlady sold our house and the new landlord was an asshole. He came in, served us with an eviction notice and then purposely stepped on my speeder bike model and my model KITT car. I was crushed. We couldn’t afford to replace them, and we now had to move.

I thought about the movies often. I bought the VHS tapes. I bought the DVDs and the Blu-rays. I bought the special editions. I watched them all over and over.

The prequels premiered after I was married. Again, they had May premieres. The difference this time was both Paul and I wanted to see them, so we went in early June. I was 28, 31, and 34 years old when I saw them. I didn’t like Jar Jar Binks because I found him more racist than annoying. Hayden Christensen’s stilted acting was a bit of a distraction, but I gave it a pass. He was a new actor in a heady role and this was Star Wars.

They definitely weren’t the best movies and I didn’t ask for prequels, but I had long given up on sequels. The story line was okay. Yes, there are plot holes, but I never looked at Star Wars as high art. It was always escapism for me and was a time for little me to enjoy the glory of of space battles, light sabers and shit blowing up.

When the sequels finally came along, they had changed from what was written in the books. That was okay with me. Though I knew about them, I never had a desire to read the books or the comics that had come out over the years. I never got into the nitpicking that some fans did.

Many people hate the directors of the sequels. The only thing that bothered me enough to laugh and roll my eyes was Leia doing her Mary Poppins thing and flying back to the ship. Even seven-year-old me thinks that’s dumb. Others find it empowering.

I liked “Solo.” I liked “Rogue One.” I really enjoyed how the end of “Rogue One” ends a moment before Star Wars begins. Now that I have them on Blu-ray, the only delay is in the speed in which I can change discs.

On December 22, 2019, at 49 years of age, I sat in the back of the movie theater and watched “The Rise of Skywalker” with Paul. I didn’t cringe when Emperor Palpatine came back. I just went with the story. It found it intriguing that what remained of the Death Star from “Return of the Jedi” was now partially in the ocean on Kef Bir. I loved the light saber battle there.

I didn’t mind that footage of Leia that was cut from the previous movies was used. Carrie Fisher is dead. They did what they could with what they had and I think it was good enough. I’ve decided to stay away from the nitpickers and naysayers this time.

I can’t help but see Star Wars from the viewpoint of seven-year old me. She loves the movies. The plot holes that seem to be driving people crazy don’t matter to her.

There is always awe and wonder with a sprinkling of joy whenever I see these movies. They have been a huge part of my life. I have seen every one in a theater during their first run, including when the original trilogy was released in the 1990s.

There’s a fondness in my heart for these movies. The movies aren’t perfect. They never will be. They will never live up to everyone’s expectations. There is no way I will ever watch the opening of Star Wars, with the star destroyers slowly moving overhead, without a smile on my face. You can get a sense of the awe of the Death Star blowing up with an recording of people in the theater in 1977 thanks to modern technology.

The movies took me to a place a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away and showed me something wondrous and magical. Star Wars blew my mind. No one had ever seen anything like it. My seven-year-old eyes were witnessing the pinnacle of filmmaking. It was gritty and dirty and real.

I’ve been on this wild ride for forty-three years. It’s been a hell of a trip and I get to take that journey every time I turn my Blu-ray player on.

If you’re as old as I am, take your little self with you when you watch the movies. You’ll never be disappointed and you will find, the Force has always been with you.

#movies #New York #Star Wars

[readbookywooks]

The Fighting Begins

Saturday lives in my memory as a day of suspense. It was a day of lassitude too, hot and close, with, I am told, a rapidly fluctuating barometer. I had slept but little, though my wife had succeeded in sleeping, and I rose early. I went into my garden before breakfast and stood listening, but towards the common there was nothing stirring but a lark.

The milkman came as usual. I heard the rattle of his chariot and I went round to the side gate to ask the latest news. He told me that during the night the Martians had been surrounded by troops, and that guns were expected. Then--a familiar, reassuring note--I heard a train running towards Woking.

"They aren't to be killed," said the milkman, "if that can possibly be avoided."

I saw my neighbour gardening, chatted with him for a time, and then strolled in to breakfast. It was a most un-exceptional morning. My neighbour was of opinion that the troops would be able to capture or to destroy the Martians during the day.

"It's a pity they make themselves so unapproachable," he said. "It would be curious to know how they live on another planet; we might learn a thing or two."

He came up to the fence and extended a handful of strawberries, for his gardening was as generous as it was enthusiastic. At the same time he told me of the burning of the pine woods about the Byfleet Golf Links.

"They say," said he, "that there's another of those blessed things fallen there--number two. But one's enough, surely. This lot'll cost the insurance people a pretty penny before everything's settled." He laughed with an air of the greatest good humour as he said this. The woods, he said, were still burning, and pointed out a haze of smoke to me. "They will be hot under foot for days, on account of the thick soil of pine needles and turf," he said, and then grew serious over "poor Ogilvy."

After breakfast, instead of working, I decided to walk down towards the common. Under the railway bridge I found a group of soldiers--sappers, I think, men in small round caps, dirty red jackets unbuttoned, and showing their blue shirts, dark trousers, and boots coming to the calf. They told me no one was allowed over the canal, and, looking along the road towards the bridge, I saw one of the Cardigan men standing sentinel there. I talked with these soldiers for a time; I told them of my sight of the Martians on the previous evening. None of them had seen the Martians, and they had but the vaguest ideas of them, so that they plied me with questions. They said that they did not know who had authorised the movements of the troops; their idea was that a dispute had arisen at the Horse Guards. The ordinary sapper is a great deal better educated than the common soldier, and they discussed the peculiar conditions of the possible fight with some acuteness. I described the Heat-Ray to them, and they began to argue among themselves.

"Crawl up under cover and rush 'em, say I," said one.

"Get aht!," said another. "What's cover against this 'ere 'eat? Sticks to cook yer! What we got to do is to go as near as the ground'll let us, and then drive a trench."

"Blow yer trenches! You always want trenches; you ought to ha" been born a rabbit Snippy."

"'Ain't they got any necks, then?" said a third, abruptly-- a little, contemplative, dark man, smoking a pipe.

I repeated my description.

"Octopuses," said he, "that's what I calls 'em. Talk about fishers of men--fighters of fish it is this time!"

"It ain't no murder killing beasts like that," said the first speaker.

"Why not shell the darned things strite off and finish 'em?" said the little dark man. "You carn tell what they might do."

"Where's your shells?" said the first speaker. "There ain't no time. Do it in a rush, that's my tip, and do it at once."

So they discussed it. After a while I left them, and went on to the railway station to get as many morning papers as I could.

But I will not weary the reader with a description of that long morning and of the longer afternoon. I did not succeed in getting a glimpse of the common, for even Horsell and Chobham church towers were in the hands of the military authorities. The soldiers I addressed didn't know anything; the officers were mysterious as well as busy. I found people in the town quite secure again in the presence of the military, and I heard for the first time from Marshall, the tobacconist, that his son was among the dead on the common. The soldiers had made the people on the outskirts of Horsell lock up and leave their houses.

I got back to lunch about two, very tired for, as I have said, the day was extremely hot and dull; and in order to refresh myself I took a cold bath in the afternoon. About half past four I went up to the railway station to get an evening paper, for the morning papers had contained only a very inaccurate description of the killing of Stent, Henderson, Ogilvy, and the others. But there was little I didn't know. The Martians did not show an inch of themselves. They seemed busy in their pit, and there was a sound of hammering and an almost continuous streamer of smoke. Apparently they were busy getting ready for a struggle. "Fresh attempts have been made to signal, but without success," was the stereotyped formula of the papers. A sapper told me it was done by a man in a ditch with a flag on a long pole. The Martians took as much notice of such advances as we should of the lowing of a cow.

I must confess the sight of all this armament, all this preparation, greatly excited me. My imagination became belligerent, and defeated the invaders in a dozen striking ways; something of my schoolboy dreams of battle and heroism came back. It hardly seemed a fair fight to me at that time. They seemed very helpless in that pit of theirs.

About three o'clock there began the thud of a gun at measured intervals from Chertsey or Addlestone. I learned that the smouldering pine wood into which the second cylinder had fallen was being shelled, in the hope of destroying that object before it opened. It was only about five, however, that a field gun reached Chobham for use against the first body of Martians.

About six in the evening, as I sat at tea with my wife in the summerhouse talking vigorously about the battle that was lowering upon us, I heard a muffled detonation from the common, and immediately after a gust of firing. Close on the heels of that came a violent rattling crash, quite close to us, that shook the ground; and, starting out upon the lawn, I saw the tops of the trees about the Oriental College burst into smoky red flame, and the tower of the little church beside it slide down into ruin. The pinnacle of the mosque had vanished, and the roof line of the college itself looked as if a hundred-ton gun had been at work upon it. One of our chimneys cracked as if a shot had hit it, flew, and a piece of it came clattering down the tiles and made a heap of broken red fragments upon the flower bed by my study window.

I and my wife stood amazed. Then I realised that the crest of Maybury Hill must be within range of the Martians" Heat-Ray now that the college was cleared out of the way.

At that I gripped my wife's arm, and without ceremony ran her out into the road. Then I fetched out the servant, telling her I would go upstairs myself for the box she was clamouring for.

"We can't possibly stay here," I said; and as I spoke the firing reopened for a moment upon the common.

"But where are we to go?" said my wife in terror.

I thought perplexed. Then I remembered her cousins at Leatherhead.

"Leatherhead!" I shouted above the sudden noise.

She looked away from me downhill. The people were coming out of their houses, astonished.

"How are we to get to Leatherhead?" she said.

Down the hill I saw a bevy of hussars ride under the railway bridge; three galloped through the open gates of the Oriental College; two others dismounted, and began running from house to house. The sun, shining through the smoke that drove up from the tops of the trees, seemed blood red, and threw an unfamiliar lurid light upon everything.

"Stop here," said I; "you are safe here"; and I started off at once for the Spotted Dog, for I knew the landlord had a horse and dog cart. I ran, for I perceived that in a moment everyone upon this side of the hill would be moving. I found him in his bar, quite unaware of what was going on behind his house. A man stood with his back to me, talking to him.

"I must have a pound," said the landlord, "and I've no one to drive it."

"I'll give you two," said I, over the stranger's shoulder.

"What for?"

"And I'll bring it back by midnight," I said.

"Lord!" said the landlord; "what's the hurry? I'm selling my bit of a pig. Two pounds, and you bring it back? What's going on now?"

I explained hastily that I had to leave my home, and so secured the dog cart. At the time it did not seem to me nearly so urgent that the landlord should leave his. I took care to have the cart there and then, drove it off down the road, and, leaving it in charge of my wife and servant, rushed into my house and packed a few valuables, such plate as we had, and so forth. The beech trees below the house were burning while I did this, and the palings up the road glowed red. While I was occupied in this way, one of the dismounted hussars came running up. He was going from house to house, warning people to leave. He was going on as I came out of my front door, lugging my treasures, done up in a tablecloth. I shouted after him:

"What news?"

He turned, stared, bawled something about "crawling out in a thing like a dish cover," and ran on to the gate of the house at the crest. A sudden whirl of black smoke driving across the road hid him for a moment. I ran to my neighbour's door and rapped to satisfy myself of what I already knew, that his wife had gone to London with him and had locked up their house. I went in again, according to my promise, to get my servant's box, lugged it out, clapped it beside her on the tail of the dog cart, and then caught the reins and jumped up into the driver's seat beside my wife. In another moment we were clear of the smoke and noise, and spanking down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill towards Old Woking.

In front was a quiet sunny landscape, a wheat field ahead on either side of the road, and the Maybury Inn with its swinging sign. I saw the doctor's cart ahead of me. At the bottom of the hill I turned my head to look at the hillside I was leaving. Thick streamers of black smoke shot with threads of red fire were driving up into the still air, and throwing dark shadows upon the green treetops eastward. The smoke already extended far away to the east and west--to the By-fleet pine woods eastward, and to Woking on the west. The road was dotted with people running towards us. And very faint now, but very distinct through the hot, quiet air, one heard the whirr of a machine-gun that was presently stilled, and an intermittent cracking of rifles. Apparently the Martians were setting fire to everything within range of their Heat-Ray.

I am not an expert driver, and I had immediately to turn my attention to the horse. When I looked back again the second hill had hidden the black smoke. I slashed the horse with the whip, and gave him a loose rein until Woking and Send lay between us and that quivering tumult. I overtook and passed the doctor between Woking and Send.

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