#and he was stuck on how much more he could dedicate himself to science if he didn’t have to worry about money | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bottombaron · 8 months

Text

So after staring into the middle distance for a couple days I'm ready to start discussing some theories I have before the season finale destroys us. They are all very wide-ranging in absurdity but I'll start with the one that I think has the most substance and therefore I think is most likely to happen. Also, I haven’t caught up with the tag yet so if someone already posted these theories, sorry!

So here is Theory #1, known otherwise as,

Why (I think) I know how Laszlo is going to unfuck Guillermo

The solution, I believe, was stated at the very end of The Roast by Laszlo himself:

FIRST THOUGHT, BEST THOUGHT

Laszlo has spent weeks deeply committed to solving a problem. He's wasted precious time trying to outthink his first (and probably best) solution – and I'm not just talking about his book sorting. Neither was Laszlo, not entirely at least. I actually do think he was focused at least a little bit on his books because that's kind of what happens when you're stuck on a problem. Your brain wanders to other much less taxing ordeals. Usually, as you solve that smaller problem, you find the solution to the thing you really want to solve.

So what was Laszlo’s first idea?

All along Laszlo had the answer but Guillermo told him that he didn't think it would work, so Laszlo just didn't pursue it further. (We don't even know if Laszlo knows the circumstances of the test and why it didn't work. Just that Guillermo didn't approve that idea.) So then Laszlo wasted valuable time and energy trying to ~Science~ this problem instead of using his true best skill that was showcased in episode one of the season: his charm. His powers of persuasion (the classical art of bullshitting, as it were) is his true super power. (Sadly, it’s not science. He doesn't really have the patience for science tbh).

But, no, rly, he should bullshit his way thru this. That's what he does best. He can outthink Nandor easily. (well….maybe. with the time spent on his experiments, Nandor could have the advantage of several weeks, if not months, to figure things out beforehand, as dense as he is) He should concoct a bullshit so impenetrable that it unfucks Guillermo from Derek and refucks him to Nandor.

Further foreshadowing of this you ask?

(this whole season is dedicated to ‘plans’ it’s crazy how much A Plan pops up. maybe i’ll dedicate a separate post to collecting them all)

But alas! The test that The Baron did proved this wouldn’t work, right!?

Well here's some free additional theories to how Laszlo could solve that hiccup:

1. Laszlo figures out (and solves) the reason why The Baron/Neighbor test didn't work in the first place.

There could be any number of factors of why The Baron's neighbor blew up. It could be that The Baron is all that more powerful than the average vampire and so his bite gives an extraordinary fill of uh...vampire-ness? and Derek, being so young and weak, doesn't do much at all. Maybe it has something to do with The Sire. If The Baron was turned by the first being ever affected by vampirism, then maybe that vampirism is slowly depleted the further down the line you go. Derek is probably very far removed from The Sire which means he cannot transfer much of that affliction onwards. Nandor, if he was turned by The Baron (one removed from The Sire) or someone similar, explains how he is so powerful, hopefully tho he wouldn’t have too much power to possibly overwhelm Guillermo's half-a-virgin body (and yes I did like how kinky that sounded when I wrote it). It doesn't really matter the exact reason as long as Laszlo can convince Guillermo to try it and he has a relatively decent chance of surviving it. (convincing Guillermo to go thru with this plan overall is probably going to be the most trouble actually. you don't easily forget a guy exploding in your face)

2. Something to do with the experiments. (or the Nadja’s bait-and-switch tactic she used to catch The Baron/Guillermo from The Roast)

I have a larger theory on the experiments and why I think there's still one in the house, but that's for later. During The Roast, Nandor is pretty convinced that the mutant Guillermo is the real one (despite one pretty big glaring error: he has no glasses. none of the experiments need glasses...), Laszlo might have been testing this theory by having The Baron bring his body to Nandor in the first place in order to see how convinced Nandor would be by it. This might be enough for Laszlo to try to use a duplicate of Guillermo for Nandor to bite. The duplicate will not explode (probably?) due to only being a hybrid of Guillermo's blood and an animal…or something(one) else pretending to be Guillermo… (and if it does, maybe Laszlo plans to shoo Nandor out of the line of sight in order for him not to see. And then you get the angst and drama of Guillermo literally using a scapegoat to take his 'sin' despite his reluctance to hurt innocent creatures)

But will the fake Guillermo actually convince Nandor? It's hard to say, and I love that threat of Nandor realizing that it's not the true Guillermo he bit and feeling even more betrayed. Maybe Laszlo concocts a whole ambiance to the event in order to sell the lie. It has to be special right?

So there's dim lights and candles and (fake) Guillermo is laid out in Nandor's coffin and there's this whole presentation element to it that was left out of Guillermo's turn with Derek. It's more like the fantasy that Guillermo probably always had of being turned by Nandor. It plays out like a romantic love scene. But Guillermo is asleep or has his eyes closed and won't talk or maybe only makes small noises and Nandor's very upset abt this. Laszlo is probably hovering too and Nandor doesn't like that either but Laszlo insists he must be there and it's now it's all awkward and wrong, kind of like how Guillermo felt before he was bit by Derek. (now it’s like Nandor is the bull cucking Laszlo in front of him) Nandor goes thru with it and bites Guillermo and is rushed by Laszlo so he doesn't get to drink or drink too much of his blood and there's fumbling with trying to get his own blood into Guillermo's unresponsive mouth.

Or maybe Nandor finds out because Guillermo's blood is disgusting and he either knows or had hoped it would be good tasting*. or that Guillermo just lays there and there's no reciprocation of desire. But maybe he just doesn't find out and once it's over he expects to be able to lay with Guillermo or otherwise be there for his turning but Laszlo quickly rushes him out of his own room and closes the door behind him.

So now Nandor feels all the same despondency that Guillermo had felt with his turn with Derek. Like this big special moment he's built up for years was a complete dud. Like he missed out on something truly magical and he doesn't know why. And Guillermo will feel like shit too, for tricking Nandor. Laszlo isn't happy either. But it worked and they all just have to live with it. Meanwhile this act that was meant to make Nandor's and Guillermo's bond stronger, only serves to create even greater distance between them.

Re*: evidence that Guillermo's blood might taste 'different':

3. ANYWAYS. that was theory two. lets talk about theory 3.

WITCHES.

I actually think there's good reason Laszlo has divorced Science and is now going to have an affair with Magic. It's exactly when Nadja says 'has this hex turned me into an uggo' that Laszlo comes to life and exclaims ‘that's it!’. If science wasn't the solution, maybe magic is. It's not like they don't know some witches, or that, at least to a degree, witches actually have some power. (specifically the power to look, vaguely, like someone else.) I'm not certain of the specifics but there's a chance Laszlo could be turning to magic to solve his problems. This would also bring Nadja's storyline more relevant and in focus for the season. The thing I like the most about this theory? Episode 9 describes being invited to a manor owned by someone named Morrigan. Morrigan is a Celtic goddess of war and fate that was probably the inspiration for Arthurian legendary sorceress, Morgan le Fay. (Laszlo's name may also be connected to Arthurian legend, Lancelot. but that probably doesn't mean anything.)

So! That's my three extra theories attached to this one big theory that Laszlo is going to go 'back to the beginning' and use his first thought to solve this. Go with his gut. His first solution was his best solution, all along.

…He simply needs to convince Nandor to turn Guillermo.

The, uh, details of this plan may be a lot more complicated than it suggests.

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #guillermo de la cruz #laszlo cravensworth #nandor #nandor the relentless #nandermo #wwdits spoilers #wwdits meta #i guess this counts as meta #so i have a LOT of THOUGHTS n’ THEORIES on the backburner and idk if i can get to them all before the finale #prepare for a flood of inane speculation coming your way #wwdits season 5 #this originaly had a lot more screencaps but i think i over did it and now my brain is fried trying to collect all these receipts

453 notes · View notes

delimeful · 1 year

Text

you can’t go back (7)

warnings: depression mention, injury mention, misunderstandings, arguing, lmk if i missed any

His eyes had been open for a while now, and yet Virgil still wasn’t entirely sure he’d actually woken up.

He’d found himself sleeping deeper the longer he’d been stuck on this planet, and while part of him was worried about the possible detrimental effects of being dropped in a new atmosphere, most of him knew it was because there was no point in being on guard.

Even if he kept his rest cycles light and easily disturbed, all he was doing was waking himself up enough to remember that nearly all his defenses had been forcibly lowered.

There was also the fact that waking violently often made his aux limbs automatically strain against their restraints in a way that sent twinges of almost-pain down his spine.

After the first time he’d jerked awake to a Human’s gentle jostle and nearly pulled a muscle, Roman and Logan had taken to opening the barn door loudly— much louder than he knew they could open it— to alert him if he was sleeping, which he usually was. It was what he spent most of his time doing, at this point.

He still didn’t understand where he stood with the Humans.

On the surface of the coin, he was definitely still a captive, and they’d grown no closer to understanding his attempts at communicating, though admittedly he might have had more success in imitating their own syllables if he hadn’t been stubbornly sticking to Guard-tongue this entire time.

On the underside, however, he hadn’t been harmed or even threatened since Logan had persuaded Roman to give up on the ‘yell angry nonsense at the alien who doesn’t speak your language’ method of interrogation, and lately the Humans seemed almost… delicate, in how they handled him.

Despite the language barrier, Logan seemed committed to making sure Virgil more-or-less understood what each test would entail. Roman, who was often recruited into the demonstration, was surprisingly enthusiastic about playing the test subject role, even if half of his exaggerated expressions were near indecipherable. Frankly, Virgil was just quietly grateful the victim role was Roman, who had complained pitifully at length about a splinter, rather than Logan, who had significantly less visible pain displays.

(Virgil had once watched him grab the wrong end of a scalpel while he was occupied peering into one of their more fiddly science instruments, and the extent of his reaction had been a slight jolt, and then a few seconds spent staring blankly at his bleeding hand.)

Really, a shocking amount of their time during tests was dedicated to not freaking him out, made extra impressive by the fact that freaking out was one of Virgil’s strongest and most frequently used skills.

It was… confusing. Virgil’s Lator implant had grasped most of the words and sentence structure rules required for basic communication, but Roman and Logan never actually spoke about the reasoning behind their care. It seemed almost like an understood fact between them, which made Virgil think it was either a scheme established out of his hearing or a cultural rule so obvious that it went unmentioned.

Or maybe the Deathworlders who’d stumbled upon him were the only pair of Humans on the planet who weren’t vicious predators, and they happened to prioritize relatively ethical science over their own gain and/or violent revenge.

Except no, that was never how Virgil’s life worked. He’d scoffed at the idea the moment it sparked in his mind, dismissing it out of hand.

Now, seated unbound next to a Human and being taught the best way to pet Patch, who was alive and entirely unharmed, he was starting to reconsider.

The Human had come into the barn quietly, unaccompanied by either of the two Humans Virgil knew probably wouldn’t murder him on sight, and he’d realized only a moment after waking that he should definitely be growling or flashing his fangs, doing something to make himself look too scary to attack. At the very least, he needed a more defensive stance.

Except— Patch was there, looking up at him with big dark eyes. Patch was alive.

So instead, Virgil had bodily put himself between Patch and the stranger. Apparently, he was actually completely willing to get in a deathmatch with a Human if it meant not watching this furry little creature get hurt right in front of him.

Except the Human didn’t want to hurt Patch, was apparently safe enough for Patch to waltz right up and receive attention as though it was her due.

As it turned out— after a brief and terrifying mishap where Virgil looked up to find that uncanny Human expression of delight way too close— the Human didn’t want to hurt Virgil, either.

The Human had given him the words he needed to hear, which also happened to be the ones that he’d wanted to say.

His aux legs were free now, stretching and flexing tenderly in the air behind him. His wrists were still uncuffed, had been so for long enough that his wounds were entirely scabbed over. His hands were unbound, the fresh air cool against his underskin.

For the first time since he’d seen Roman’s brother in that cell, he was free.

He should already be running.

Next to him, the Human demonstrated how to delicately brush a finger up and down the little stretch of velvety fur above Patch’s nose, prompting the loudest rumbly pleased noise yet.

Virgil reached out and mimicked the motion.

The “kitty” was still settled firmly on his folded legs. Until there was an active threat, it was too risky to displace her. She might start making those petulant little upset noises.

“Yeah, just like that!” the Human encouraged, and no wonder Patch had deemed them an ally, with that open friendliness paired with unmistakable Deathworlder resilience.

(He’d seen the way they’d instinctively tracked his aux limbs with wariness, understanding that Virgil could hurt them, and yet they hadn’t attacked. They’d believed him, when he echoed their earlier words. Raised on a planet where every unknown could be a lethal threat, and they had decided to trust him.)

Honestly, Virgil kind of wanted the guy as an ally, at this point.

He paused, considering.

The Human’s gaze flickered over to him as soon as he’d lifted his hand, but despite their attentiveness, they didn’t shy away at all when he reached out, angling his fingertips up so only the pads of them would make contact.

Oh, this fur was a significantly different texture.

“Are you— Are you petting me?” the Human asked, voice noticeably rising in pitch.

Virgil hurriedly withdrew his hand, with an automatic chirp-chirp-click of concerned inquiry. He hadn’t thought Humans would be hurt by simple touch, but if he was wrong…

“No, no,” the Human’s shoulders were shaking slightly, their lips twitching up at the edges, “it’s okay! I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

They tousled their own hair in demonstration, much more thoroughly than Virgil’s careful pats, and then looked back at him, blinking expectantly.

Virgil cast a glance between them and Patch, wondering exactly how many species on this planet had perfected that expression.

When he’d thought of Earth as a planet full of physical contact, he’d been envisioning brutal takedowns and punishing blows, not this.

And yet, here he sat, patting the human again anyways.

They continued to speak, a good percentage of the words translating properly, but it didn’t seem to be about anything in particular. Virgil let his eyes wander, wondering at which point Humans usually introduced themselves. His own introduction was supposed to come after, both in terms of him being a Second and a lower social status(being both a visitor to the planet and a hostage(?)) but so far, zero out of three Humans had properly declared themselves. Maybe it was a cultural thing?

Out of pure habit, he flicked his second set of eyelids down, scanning back and forth for a routine check of their surroundings. It was the sort of thing he did regularly while hanging out with Janus, a simple method to ease some of his more irrational fears of danger.

This time, with the sight of two Human-sized smears of heat barreling in their direction, he felt far from soothed.

He was on his feet between one moment and the next, aux limbs poised high around him as Patch trotted a few steps away and began agitatedly cleaning her face with one paw.

The Human seemed much more concerned at the movement, jerking back in surprise so hard that they nearly toppled over entirely. “Woah! Are you okay?”

Virgil muttered a distracted confirmation in Guard-tongue, hurriedly reaching down and pulling them to their feet. They cooperated, which was good because although Chelcerae were on the larger side, they were also lightweight. Humans, on the other hand, were dense.

He didn’t need to take a second look at the barn to plan their next move; he’d been looking at the same four walls long enough to have any possible exits memorized. The window panels had all been closed and latched from the outside. The back doors were much the same. The front entry doors of the barn were slightly ajar, but that was exactly where Roman and Logan would enter.

There was no time. The only option was to stand his ground and fight, taking advantage of the Humans' urge to keep him in one piece. If he could keep their attention on him, he’d be able to create an opening for Patch and her Human to slip away.

Not that he had the words to explain any of that to them.

Hands still on the Human’s shoulders, he started to maneuver them towards the side wall without the table, hoping to capitalize on the Humans’ lack of 360 vision.

Three steps in, the barn doors were shoved open with a loud bang.

Virgil’s plates flushed a bottomless black as his mind reset, all higher thought set to the side as protect became the main objective.

He immediately yanked Patch’s Human close, chest-to-back so that both of them could track their opponents, and wound an arm around their front as a makeshift shield, ensuring that his claws were on full display. Thankfully, the Human was short enough that he could properly bare his fangs over their shoulder, and so he cracked his guardplate open without hesitation and let out a low, rattling hiss as bright venom flooded his mouth, a warning as distinct as the sun above.

Roman and Logan stopped dead, arrested by the sight of his aux legs flexed to their fullest length, the pointed ends angled directly at them. It no longer mattered how fast Humans were. Not when Virgil only had to twitch to send a lethal amount of spring-loaded force directly at an attacker.

“Release him!” Roman demanded, his face gone slightly grey.

Virgil couldn’t remember what emotional response that color shift signalled, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to hand over Patch’s Human, not when the other two were sure to be furious with them for sneaking in and freeing him.

Two against one would be a poor matchup no matter what, and the odds were worsened by the fact that Patch’s Human wasn’t nearly as tall as Roman or Logan.

Virgil was more than willing to play substitute Second for the guy, they’d earned that much and more, but he wasn’t a fair match for a Deathworlder on a good day. Today wasn’t a good day. In fact, today happened to be the latest in a truly impressive string of bad days.

“I said, let him go!” Roman snapped, edging forward a step.

Virgil snarled, the sound coming out deep and clear without the guardplate muffling it, and retreated a step back despite himself.

He couldn’t afford to show weakness, to get boxed in, but he’d centered Patch’s Human in front of him, an automatic urge to have him solidly under the protective halo of his aux limbs.

Unfortunately, that left the Human closer to their opponents than Virgil, meaning that offensive maneuvers were too risky. Virgil already regretted not tucking the guy behind his back, instead. He wasn’t usually the plan guy, okay?

“Wait, guys—,” Patch’s Human started, only to be cut off by Logan moving forward as well, eyes cold and assessing.

“There’s no solution to be found by taking Patton hostage. The moment you move to hurt him,” another step forward, “you will have given up every bit of your leverage, and you’ll still be trapped. Don’t be foolish.”

There was something off about the words, parts of the sentence not lining up, and Virgil’s rumbling growl grew louder as he scuttled back another step, struggling to process what little his Lator implant had retained.

“Surrender our friend now, or face the consequences,” Roman added, the pitch of his voice dropping back to that low, simmering anger he’d worn while asking about his brother. “There’s not a force on this planet or any other that can save you if you hurt him.”

Wait, there was something in there, something wrong— but Roman slid his next step along the dirt, bringing him just out of striking range, and Virgil’s panic ramped up further.

He feinted sharply with his aux limbs, but the Humans didn’t even flinch, their gazes locked on Patch’s Human. They were both still edging closer with each moment his attention switched between them, slowly but surely cornering him back against the far wall. Once they had him pinned, one would lunge forward to draw the focus of his attack, and the other would rip Patch’s Human away to be punished.

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Back to Plan A, even if the chances of success were much lower without the chaotic element of surprise.

His grip on Patch’s Human began to loosen, his legs bending in preparation to shoot forwards, his sensor lids flicking back as he mentally readied himself for the insane task of trying to keep the two Humans occupied in a fight for as long as he could.

The Humans could see his tension and responded in kind, shoulders lifting and eyes narrowing as the air in the room grew thick with anticipation.

“Guys!” the Human in his arms half-shouted, making Virgil full-body twitch in surprise. “Would everybody please calm down a little?!”

There was a beat of blank silence, and then Roman was the one to open his mouth.

“Patton, you’re being held hostage by an antagonistic alien attacker!” he protested, releasing his coiled up predator posture to gesture with both arms.

It took Virgil a moment to absorb the words, his head still following every motion warily.

Wait, what? Had he heard that right? Was his implant even working?

There was a gentle tap on the back of his hand, the flexed one that was still hovering protectively over Patton’s(?) torso.

“Hey, kiddo?” he started, which had been used enough that Virgil knew it meant him, even though the form of address was coming through the translator as ‘small young one’ (affectionate). “Take a few deep breaths, okay? Everything’s alright, I promise.”

He didn’t really understand the request— nobody used their upper lungs while brawling, and his lower ridgelungs weren’t consciously controlled enough to alter his air intake pattern— but the requesting tone to the Human’s voice was enough to make him drag his primary eyes down to look at him, waiting for elaboration. Was there a plan after all?

“You just got a little startled, huh?” The question seemed to be rhetorical, and Patton patted the back of his hand in a gesture that seemed well-intentioned but meant nothing to him. “Well, you don’t have to be afraid. I know these two knuckleheads, and they aren’t going to hurt me or you.”

If the other two had been waiting for the perfect moment to ambush him, now would be it, because he couldn’t help the way his entire head tilted to face Patton, guardplate shifting back and forth the slightest amount in the most blatant expression of doubt he had. A downright quizzical croon bubbled up in his throat to accompany the look.

“I won’t let them hurt you,” Patton corrected firmly, and Virgil was pretty sure at this point that Humans didn’t have anywhere near the same social hierarchy pair structure that Chelcerae did, but he recognized the steady resolution of a First in that voice nonetheless.

He didn’t bother hiding his reluctance as he slowly released his grip on the Human. He'd always been atrociously bad at taking orders like this, even from his actual First. Patton took a small step forward, looking now at the other Humans, and Virgil pointedly kept his fangs out and venom-flushed.

Roman looked gobsmacked, and Logan’s stare had returned to its usual all-consuming intensity as it flicked between him and Patton.

“They… understood you?” he asked, nearly vibrating with energy. “We’ve been trying to work out the basics of a language structure for weeks, how—?”

Patton’s hands had settled firmly on his hips, his stance pointed enough to definitely signify something loud and clear in Human body language. “Nuh-uh, don’t try to change the subject. I found a whole alien tied up like a pretzel in this barn, we are not playing twenty questions until you two explain why you thought that was a good idea.”

Both of the other Humans looked apprehensive, now.

“They attacked me!” Roman tried with righteous indignation. “And during our first encounter, they almost murdered Lady Macbeth!”

Patton turned enough to look down at Virgil’s feet, and everyone else followed suit, revealing that even in the chaos, Patch had still somehow found a moment to reclaim her favorite perch directly on his feet.

She was bundled up into a resting pose, the one Patton had called a ‘loaf’, and her eyes were half closed in near-sleep. She barely even blinked at all the eyes on her.

In the ensuing silence, her purr was extremely audible.

Patton turned back to Roman, whose face was now looking less grey and more red.

“You didn’t see the mouse toy they skewered,” he muttered mutinously. “And! The Logan they almost-skewered!”

“The bindings weren’t intended to harm them,” Logan added, pushing the bridge of his glasses up a bit. “It was a precautionary safety measure to prevent injury. They really did prove to be actively hostile for our first few interactions, and no initial attempts at communication were successful.”

Patton didn’t seem convinced. “And were these attempts before or after you tied them up?”

Uncharacteristically, Logan looked away.

“They were already handcuffed when we found them,” Roman mumbled, and then, stronger: “They could know where Remus is. We couldn’t just let them go, not when it could mean I’ll never— never see my brother again.”

Even from behind him, Virgil could see the way Patton softened slightly.

“If someone’s in trouble, you help them, you don’t make it worse,” he replied, the sharpness slowly fading from his voice. “I know that you were scared for Remus, Ro. But I bet they were pretty scared, too.”

Roman looked down, because apparently Humans only followed galactic etiquette rules about avoiding direct eye contact when they were experiencing unfortunate emotions.

After a moment, he firmed his shoulders and looked back up, meeting Virgil’s gaze directly for the half-second before he automatically averted it. Luckily, Humans couldn’t track the dark-on-dark of his iris movement very well.

“I’m sorry for frightening you,” Roman said, speaking directly and unmistakably to Virgil. “Pat’s right, we went about this all wrong. I think I already knew from the moment you freaked out about your legs, I just… didn’t know what to do about it without getting skewered, I guess.”

Logan cleared his throat. “It was my idea to restrain their legs. Logically, I thought the concept was sound, but I clearly underestimated both how many nerve endings were attached to them and the psychological effect the action would have. If I’d understood sooner… well. The point is, I apologize as well.”

Virgil felt his sensor eyelids slide slowly over his eyes in blank astonishment. He’d once watched these same two Humans argue all the way to sunset over the best way to arrange the stacks of papers on their table.

And now they were apologizing. To him.

Maybe his Lator implant really was busted.

His guardplate shuttered closed, and when that didn’t manage to convey his dumbfounded silence well enough, he leaned to the side slightly so that Patton was between him and their imploring stares.

What else was he supposed to do?! He had managed two words of Human language semi-comprehensively, and neither of them were particularly useful for this situation.

“I’m so proud of you guys,” Patton enthused, once again securing his position as Best Human by breaking the silence. “I’m sure they’ll say sorry for trying to stab you once they have the right words for it!”

Wait, he had to apologize for pre-emptive defensive stabbing? What kind of Deathworld was this?

“… Um,” Roman replied, sounding just as dubious. “Pat, I’m not entirely sure they can speak in a way we’ll be able to understand.”

Patton tilted his head, an inquiring lilt to his words. “They talked to me, though?”

Virgil wasn’t sure that him mangling the words Patton had said only a few moments before qualified as talking, but the news sent the other two Humans into a frenzy of shocked excitement anyhow.

He blatantly ignored the resulting request for him to talk again. His guardplate was staying firmly in place for at least the rest of the suncycle, his lungs still clenching slightly at the memory of trying to return Patton’s smile earlier.

Patton patted his hand again. “I think they’re shy,” he offered. “Having their teeth visible seemed to make them nervous.”

Logan hummed. “Perhaps the language we’ve been hearing through their… organic mask is easier to form, or more culturally acceptable.”

That mostly depended on which hemisphere of his home planet one was from, but the Human was pretty close. Virgil was impressed.

“So, we have to wait? Or it might not happen again at all?” Roman visibly deflated, his posture sagging miserably. “The only reason I got us all into this mess in the first place was to find Remus, and I still don’t even know if they’ve ever seen him!”

Virgil couldn’t help the telling way his aux limbs flexed in and out, and was abruptly grateful that none of the Humans had gotten that far in interpreting his body language.

The addition of Logan had changed the focus of the Humans’ interest in him, moving from brute force interrogation to trying to understand him well enough to communicate. The tests were so abstract that he’d almost forgotten the origin of Roman’s interest in him.

He still cringed away from the idea of being the one to deliver the news that his clutchmate was definitely far out of reach by now, and probably in the process of being sold into some terrible fate, if he hadn’t been already.

However… If he himself had the chance to learn about Janus, to know for sure what his First had done upon finding Virgil missing and a Human on board as cargo, to find out whether or not he was safe…

He would take it. Of course he would take it. The only thing more painful than knowing was the uncertainty of not knowing.

Besides, Patton probably wouldn’t let Roman bite the head off the messenger.

One distinct step forward (after making sure his feet were cat-free, of course) was enough to draw their eyes to him, and he ignored the reflexive urge to darken his plates as he slowly, painstakingly bobbed his chin up and down. The sensation of his plates scraping edges at the unnatural movement made him grimace slightly, but he was fairly confident that the end result had looked like a nod.

“Yes?” Patton hesitantly translated. “Yes what, buddy?”

He pointed at Roman, who stiffened up with wide eyes.

“Are you— is… is this about Remus?” He sounded a little warbly with emotion already.

Virgil managed another grinding nod, and then gave up and simply ‘nodded’ his closed fist up and down.

“You have seen him?” Another faux-nod, and Roman’s face did something weird and alarming that Virgil had no hope of interpreting. “Where? When? What happened to him, is he okay?”

A completely predictable response, one that Virgil had no way to coherently reply to. His aux limbs pedaled in the air for a moment as he considered his options, and then the answer hit him, so obvious it was embarrassing he hadn’t thought of it immediately.

The Humans trailed after him curiously as he approached the table covered in science equipment. The box shoved into one corner was easy enough to open now that his hands were un-mitted, and he lifted his helmet out triumphantly.

The internal audio system was beyond repair, ripped out first by Virgil’s own teeth and then practically dissected by Logan, but that didn’t matter. The Humans had technology that could record and play audio, and the translator chip plugged inside the helmet was still untouched.

This was their key to two-way communication.

All he needed was some tools, some time, and a really big battery.

#sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #ts roman #alien au #humans are deathworlders #you cant go back #ycgb #my writing #writing #my time blindness has been insanely bad lately sorry guys

169 notes · View notes

indigosabyss · 3 months

Text

Call Back A Warning AU Snippet — Byakuya Ishigami

Dr. STONE Time Travel fic where they call into the past after 4D Science to NASA a year or so before the Initial Petrification Event. Check the 'call back a warning au' tag for more snippets and ideas.

There was something strange going on in Mission Control.

Byakuya didn't know much about it, since most of his time was taken up by training for the space flight he had finally, finally, finally been selected for. Why would he need to snoop around when there was something that fun to look forward to?

But he was always fond of gossip, so he heard the whispers. Something seriously strange was going down in Mission Control.

The people who worked on that floor regularly had almost secluded themselves entirely inside, only leaving for quick rest breaks before charging back inside. Even for rocket scientists, this level of dedication was extreme.

At first, he had been worried that something had gone wrong on the ISS, but everyone on it seemed to be just fine. Which begged the question: what was freaking them out so much?

"Why're you telling me all this, old man?" Senku drawled from the other side of the world. They were having their weekly call - well, the call they were meant to be having every week, if Senku didn't end up postponing due to a breakthrough, which happened saddeningly often.

"Because, Senku!" He replied cheerfully, "I think they've made contact with aliens!"

A pause, and then a scoff, "It's ten billion times more likely that they're having a talk about the stone swallows I've been investigating for a while now."

"Oh?" He teased, "You got insider knowledge about what's happening?"

He knew that Senku talked to some NASA ground scientists about his research, so it wouldn't be a stretch. He just wished that he was smart enough to keep up with his son's voracious appetite for knowledge.

"Not a millimeter." Senku laughed, "Even Xeno's clammed up and he loves handing out state secrets. Thinks that that makes him a supervillain or something."

Ah, right, Xeno. The one who had gleefully told Senku how to distill gasoline into being rocket fuel-worthy when his son was ten. What could possibly be so important that he wasn't letting Senku know, even upon being asked?

He was hooked now.

After ending his call with his son, Byakuya ventured to Mission Control. Just a quick stop, he promised himself, to sate his curiosity.

When he stuck his head inside, he found the place in disarray. Simulations were being run on all the computers of an Earth progressing through time for some reason. Whiteboards covered in equations and notes were set up everywhere. Every scientist in the room looked dead on their feet.

Over the speakers, there was a crackly voice was droning on, "A simple transmission back requires more than ten thousand exatonne joules, and that didn't even account for how we'd receive your replies, which were crucial, but Joel worked out this nifty idea-"

Byakuya knew his son's voice. Sure, it was deeper and different and all wrong for some reason even through the incessant static, but he knew his son's voice.

He looked down at his phone, where his call log reported them ending the call not five minutes prior.

He looked back up in confusion, "Senku?" He asked, because this was a prank, right? He'd gotten contacted by a scientist who didn't realize he was a kid and decided to roll with it?

... Had he been talking to a bot?

The room had gotten very, very quiet all of a sudden. Everyone had turned around to stare at him.

One of the people had had their hand pressed down on a large button labeled 'Transmit', he noticed just then. So his son had definitely heard him and realized he'd been found out.

Except when Senku next spoke, it didn't sound like how Senku would normally react.

"B-Byakuya?" His voice was shaky and strained.

There was a fumbling sound, as if someone was being hastily dragged from the mic, and then a new, unknown person said, "Senku isn't responding very well to this. We told you to keep him away."

Everyone in the room glared at him, but Byakuya didn't care.

All he could think about was the pain and fear in Senku's much older and almost unrecognizable voice.

"What's going on?" He asked, almost surprising himself with the sternness he said it with.

#dr stone #byakuya ishigami #ishigami senku #dr xeno #xeno houston wingfield #fanfiction #ibis ficlets #call back a warning au

14 notes · View notes

ahliits · 2 years

Text

it will be 20 years until i get my oc troopers bios up but here’s the lowdown <3

st - 1136 : skipper / kip

scuba trooper in kit fisto’s legion of clones. serves specifically as a scuba trooper and aquatics expert. absolutely adores sea life and is fascinated by water. during his cadet days, he often got caught for wanting to see if he could swim in the waters. that eventually took him towards his current career path. his name came from what people would often call the head of a underwater expedition; skipper was at first used mockingly in his cadet days and eventually became truth. sometimes people shorten it to kip or skip. he’s proud of who he is. outside the water, kip is a very easy going trooper who thrives off of making people laugh in the darkest times, almost as a light in the dark. he’s usually referred to as the annoying little brother no one expected but always got. his jokes and humor are never at the expense of anyone— aways about himself or anything he can think of! this goes on even when he loses his arm and is on the operating table— he asks his medic “could you give me a hand?”

ct - 5678 / sequence

his name sounds pretty simple, right? something in reference to how his serial number is in sequential order. but that’s not all there is to him. growing up on kamino, they are made to serve specific purposes. he didn’t much care for those purposes— only every cared when it pertained to his batchmates wellbeing. sequence is fascinated by the science behind cloning a specific dna sequence to their own liking. that is where he gets his name. he may be the clone that is most well versed in their dna, with dedicated studies mocked up in barracks. he’s not so much introverted, hes more of a person who only speaks if they have anything to say or provide. he is softspoken and kind, always there to help provide a quiet companionship. if you need a better understanding of the mission on a chemical level? he’s your guy! currently, he’s unassigned in terms of who he works with (jedi etc). so it could be up to plot!

ct - 2222 / twos

twos is the boisterous, heart in the right place, himbo of all my troopers. his name comes from not only referencing his serial number, but also the fact that everyone thinks he has a grand total of two braincells. he is often the main muscle people put into their plans, because he will follow the order and adapt to it as much as needed. he is a bit of a loud idiot sometimes, but he is unafraid of letting people know he doesn’t know what’s going on or what’s happening. twos would asked it explained to him so that he can fully understand the assignment, questions included. mostly? twos is constantly, unashamedly himself. he is also unassigned, so that could he up for plots!

ct - 1013 / brightly

brightly is the quietest among the group. he got his name since being a young cadet afraid of the dark. his brothers made fun of him often. and on a training expedition gone wrong, stuck in the darkness of a moon, brightly came with an idea. he rigged a bomb and threw it to go off as vibrantly and in the most distracting way possible to get everyone to safety. there, he was awarded for his quick thinking. but he doesn’t think he deserves it. he was just afraid of the dark… and he wanted light to shine brightly to make it go away. now he is esteemed with the title explosives expert. he is also unassigned!!

#🌟〘 ooc. 〙#okay now i can pass out

5 notes · View notes

thehopesquadhq · 8 months

Text

The Adventures of the Hope Squad (Reboot)

Season 1: Chapter 1: The Green Light Lab

(Part 3)

______________________________________________________________

When he arrived, most of the prodigies were already eating their meals, so, the there were no lines. All he had to do was grab a tray, fill it with his meal, and sit on his table at the corner.

The kind of meal they had on the lab was not tasteful by a bit. All they could eat was a ‘Nutritive Goop’, a bland goop that had all the nutrients the scientists needed to survive, and only enough to make sure they wouldn’t be over-weight.

When he sat, though, he was stuck with a deep feeling of grief, because his three best friends weren’t there anymore to share that moment with him.

“Oh gosh… how have things ended up like this” the blue prodigy said to himself. He put a part of the nutritive goop on a bag, stored it in his pocket and decided that, with a good number of projects to show at the science fair, it was time to actually think about himself. It was the first time in months he managed to do that.

He couldn’t help but remember his whole trajectory until the present moment.

4 years ago, he was just an introvert boy that draw fanart and watched cartoons that no one cared that much about, that wanted to hang out with his friends and do great things with them.

Now, he had to see so many innocent people suffer in the hands of his vile superiors, and constantly worry about not making it on the next day.

He had to learn so many things he hated just to survive. Heck, he hated lying, and now, he had to lie 24/7, just to make sure he won’t get himself or someone else killed.

The only thing that gave him strength was the will of helping as many young scientists as he could, and make sure they wouldn’t have the same fate that his friends had.

“One day at a time… one day at a time…” He repeated his motto to himself, to keep his hope and motivation alive.

Then, the silent atmosphere of the refectory was interrupted by a loud noise of a plate being broken.

“This is unacceptable!” a loud voice said, obviously on a tone of complicated.

All young scientists turned their heads to look at the source of the sound.

“Prodigy Violet, what’s is the reason for such a tantrum?!” Teal asked, approaching the girl with a threatening look on her face.

Violet was from the Purple Ranking… the lowest actual ranking on the hierarchy. They basically had no rights, their punishments were intense, and they were hanging on a thread from the ultimate punishment.

Those on this ranking are usually because they are either seen as useless with no dedication, or because they are ‘too rebellious to their own good’, as the Lab superiors would say.

“Percy only failed in one of your rigged tests, and you punished him by taking away his right to eat. He is younger and more fragile than us, he won’t survive much longer like this!” Violet retorted, not losing her stance.

“He failed in a basic test of pain resistance. All of those who disappoint the lab deserve this fate” the older scientist said with anger and malice on her voice.

“Oh, so all of you are allowed to disappoint young children by filling their heads with empty promises and lies, and bringing them to this sci-fi hell, and we can’t feel even once? How can this be fair?!” the girl screamed with indignation.

“Enough, you ungrateful brat!” Teal screamed, grabbing a small device on her pocket. She used it to electrocute Violet and leave her unconscious.

“I am done of your rebelliousness, Young Violet. If you refuse to behave properly, then… it’s time for you to go to the red ranking… finally, you will be useful” the older scientist said, calling two Orange Ranking guards through her armor to collect Violet and bring her to the Containment Room.

Most of the prodigies were shivering in fear… the word red ranking brought awful memories to all of those that were present.

The red ranking (which, honestly, was only a proper ranking because of the denomination, because it was anything but a ranking) was the equivalent of rock bottom at the lab. This ranking was destined to those on the purple ranking that had no other way of being solved.

As stated before, the lab did a lot of… immoral experiments, to both humans and animals. And, this sort of experiment was what happened on the lowest ranking.

They injected serums, removed body parts and did a lot of cruel tortures and changes to these people, making them into mindless killing machines, who only served to do the dirty work that the lab wanted to hide.

Harry lost two friends to the red rankings, and he knew better than anyone that it was a fate worse than death.

‘I can’t let this happen!’ the indigo prodigy thought to himself, determined to stop an atrocity of happening as soon as possible.

#my writting #heroes #superheroes #oc #original character #ocs #writers of tumblr #dc comics #batman

1 note · View note

licensed-fan-girl · 2 years

Text

Pride and Perception - ch. 13

Hello, lovely readers! If you're still here after yet another prolonged hiatus that came without warning, you have truly earned stars in your crown because wowee it has been so long since I updated this fic! I am finishing up my Master's Thesis in library science over the next three weeks, and then I start working in October! I'm not going to make any promises about a regular posting schedule this time because I have no idea how busy I'll be in the upcoming months, but I can promise that I have not abandoned this fic, and I will be working on it as often as I can! So if you've stuck with me this long, if you've interacted in any way with this fic (especially in the last several months), this chapter is dedicated especially to you. Thank you for being here.

Read this story on my ao3!

Masterlist chapter 12 chapter 13 chapter 14

summary: James Barnes was the mob king of Brooklyn. Everything he wanted, he got, and anyone standing in his way was eliminated, but there was never enough evidence left behind to really convict him. He was not one to be trifled with and everybody knew it. Eveline Stone had only been the boss of Queens for six years, but that was more than enough time to know a bad deal when she saw one. If Barnes thought he could come in and buy her city or take it by force, he had another thing coming. He was the most infuriating man she’d ever met, but he was also probably the only person in New York who could help her find who she was looking for.

paring: Mob!Bucky x Mob!oc: Eveline Stone (can be read like a reader insert)

chapter warnings: interrogation (no violence), mentions of hostages, language

word count: 5,412

Thanks for Reading!

Directly following the interrogation, Bucky had gone back up to his office and sent out an email to the general managers of his hotels to warn them about the arson threat. He didn’t want to give them too much information — they had yet to determine the identity of the employee responsible for giving Rumlow the tip off — but he did include a rough description of Rumlow, the men who’d disappeared with him, and the two men they’d just interrogated. The email also included detailed instructions on how to perform a thorough search of the building and told his managers to be expecting a related email from Pepper within the next 48 hours of any suspicious patrons whose belongings should be searched.

He stayed seated at his desk for a moment after hitting send, as something Eveline had said to him from her hospital bed came back to him: It wasn’t that I lacked faith in your men, Bucky, only that I had greater faith in Brock’s manipulation. Looking back through the past month in which he’d known Eveline, Bucky could see all the ways her connection to Rumlow had affected her interactions with the world. Her fierce protection of her friends and family, her unwillingness to share anything personal, even her initial aversion to a simple meeting with him, all spoke to her history with broken trust. He mentally kicked himself for not seeing it sooner, but then again, he supposed Eveline hadn’t wanted him to see it. It made him all the more grateful for the renewing and rebuilding of their trust in each other.

That last thought reminded him that their now daily lunch plans had been interrupted by this interrogation. He quickly pulled out his phone and shot her a text.

Bucky: Hey did you ever get lunch?

Eveline: No, but I’m starved.

Bucky: Me too! You wanna grab something?

Even though this meal was one they shared nearly every day, nerves kicked his heart into overdrive as he sent the text.

Eveline: I’m with Lili for lunch today

Bucky’s heart dropped a little at her admission.

Eveline: but you’d be welcome to join us! Lili would love to see you too!

And just like that, it was back to skipping every other beat. Bucky shook his head. He couldn’t believe how worked up he allowed himself to get over this. It was just lunch, and yet, he couldn’t curb his smile as he quickly typed out a reply.

Bucky: Great! I’ll head that way!

Eveline: Perfect! We’re in the living room.

Without wasting another second, Bucky left his office. He walked through the familiar halls towards his home and did his best to calm his pounding heart. As he had several times since knowing Eveline, Bucky reminded himself that he was a powerful and dangerous man who did not get flustered over a woman, but the butterflies in his stomach paid him no mind. His thoughts continued to betray him the rest of the way to the living floor of the townhome, but the moment he entered the room to find Lili and Eveline — who had changed back into her comfy clothes — playing a game of go fish over a plate of chicken nuggets, his nerves evaporated. An overwhelming sense of right flooded his body at the sight of them so at home in his space.

“You better not be cheating again,” Lili accused with her best attempt at an intimidating glare.

Eveline gasped dramatically, holding her hand up over her heart. “I would never!”

Lili rolled her eyes at her mother’s tone and Bucky chuckled softly, drawing the young girl’s attention. As her eyes landed on him, they lit up, and Bucky felt his heart squeeze at the sight. She quickly set her cards face down on the coffee table, pointed her two fingers towards her own eyes and then at Eveline’s, before quickly making her way across the room to him, and Bucky swept the nine-year-old up into his arms.

“Bucky!” she cried as he swung her around.

“Hey, princess,” Bucky replied into her hair. He met Eveline’s gaze over Lili’s shoulder, and her subtle, pleased smile nearly knocked him over. Her gentle grin widened to make room for her amused chuckle as Lili struggled to wrap her small legs all the way around Bucky’s torso, kicking him in the ribs in the process. Bucky felt his heart expand in his chest when Lili pulled her head up off his shoulder and began telling him about how the first half of her school day had been as he made his way over to where Eveline had moved from the floor to the couch and sat down next to her all while trying to focus on what Lili was saying to him — a task which became increasingly difficult the longer Eveline kept looking at him like that. When Lili called his name exasperatedly, as if she had called him multiple times already, and Eveline laughed at him, Bucky shook his head and forced himself to give his undivided attention to Lili.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

Lili rolled her eyes and joined her mother in laughing at his expense. “I asked if you want to play go fish with us?” And no idea had ever sounded better to Bucky’s ears.

“I would be honored,” he replied with a dramatic bow of his head. She giggled and clapped her hands, and Bucky headed to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich before rejoining them on the floor around the coffee table.

They played a few games, most of which Lili won, and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Bucky did his best to memorize the way this moment felt: to be relaxing with these two girls who had come to mean so much to him, to be a normal man for an afternoon spent relaxing with family. He knew it was not an afternoon that would last forever, and after a few more games of go fish, Lili declared she was going to go play outside in the yard and instructed them sternly not to follow her. She gave Bucky a big, over-the-top wink, and headed for the door.

Eveline was chuckling to herself when Bucky came back into the living room after taking their dishes to the kitchen sink. “What on earth was that about?” she asked incredulously.

Bucky sat down beside her on the couch with a noncommittal shrug, refusing to give away Lili’s secret surprise.

Seeing right through his poorly hidden smile, Eveline narrowed her eyes at him accusingly. “You’re up to something,” she said. “I don’t know what she’s put you up to, but you should know I see everything,” she finished, copying Lili’s ‘I’m watching you’ motion from earlier, and Bucky laughed.

“She is something else,” he crooned, his gaze looking out the window where Lili was just out of sight, having gone down the steps of the fire escape to reach the side yard below. Suddenly, a memory from the meeting Eveline had missed flashed through Bucky’s mind: Whether or not he knows of Lili’s presence remains uncertain, Nat had said. His expression must have turned as grim as his thoughts, because Eveline leaned closer to him with concern.

“What is it, Bucky?”

He sighed deeply through his nose and relaxed his face slightly. “Does Rumlow know about her?” he asked darkly.

Eveline sat back, her expression sobering. “She’s not his, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Bucky flinched at the hurt in her tone. “Forgive me. I didn’t phrase that very well. Lili’s father is not my concern. Nat pointed out in our meeting a few weeks ago that Rumlow knows you’re in Brooklyn, but we have no clue if he know’s Lili’s here too.”

Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she nodded in thought. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he knows she exists. In fact, he probably does, given his connections, but,” she shrugged, her eyes pinned to the floor. “I’m not sure how much he knows regarding Lili’s presence here. I mean, it’s not like we went to any great lengths to keep her hidden away.” When Eveline met his eyes again, their earlier playfulness was completely gone. “If Rumlow wants to know where she is, he won’t have any trouble finding out.”

Bucky nodded, his mind puzzling. “The thing about this case that still completely confuses me is Pierce’s potential role in the whole thing.” Eveline hummed her agreement, her brow furrowed in thought. “I think Oliver’s death points pretty clearly to Pierce. I don’t know how familiar you are with his… style of discipline, but Oliver’s murder matches a string of others Pierce has doled out over the years.”

“What did you do with Kingston and Desmond?” she asked after a moment.

Bucky bristled at the mention of their names. “Just left them there, for now. Haven’t decided how their end will come to them yet.” Realizing how dark that sentence was, he expected to find fear or disgust in her face, but when he looked back, the only emotion on Eveline’s face was satisfaction. “And Tony kept the cameras running, so we’ll hear anything they say between now and then.”

As Eveline nodded, she went to reposition herself and hissed, reaching for her hip. All thoughts of the case suddenly left Bucky’s mind, replaced with a deep concern for her recovery. “How has PT been going this week?” he asked hesitantly.

She stretched her legs out in front of her and groaned a little. “It’s going fine,” she said quietly, continuing to stretch her lower limbs. “The progress has slowed down these last few days, but I’ll keep at it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Bucky replied, resisting the urge to reach out and lift her chin so she’d meet his worried stare. “Are you getting enough rest?”

Sitting back against the couch, she huffed a sigh at him. “I’m sleeping fine, mom, are you and Natasha in cahoots again?” She asked the question in a playful tone of voice, but there was a genuine accusation in her eyes.

“I just want to be sure you’re taking care of yourself, doll,” he implored.

Before Eveline could scold him for the nickname, Lili’s nervous voice came calling through the open window, “MOMMA…?” Bucky and Eveline froze, eyes locked for the briefest of moments before they were both up and running to the door. “MOMMA!” Lili called again.

“I’m here, Lili. What’s wrong?” Eveline called, moving quickly down the stair into the yard towards her daughter. Bucky stayed up at the top of the fire escape and began scanning the surrounding area for any signs of danger. He couldn’t hear what it was Lili was saying into her mother’s neck, but he could see nothing in or outside of the yard, or on any of the surrounding streets. He continued to keep his eyes peeled, however, until Eveline and Lili had made it back inside. The two situated themselves on the couch, Eveline’s arms securely wrapped around her daughter’s shoulders, and Bucky moved to squat down to Lili’s eye level.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked softly. There were no tears in her eyes, which he took as a positive sign. She nodded her head, and Bucky took one of her small hands in his. “Would you like me to get you something to drink?”

“Can I have some chocolate milk, please?”

Bucky smiled warmly at her and replied, “of course you can. I’ll be right back,” and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, he headed for the kitchen. Upon returning with the beverage, he found Eveline turning the TV onto what he supposed was a show Lili enjoyed. He handed the girl her milk, and — after ensuring that she was settled comfortably to watch her show — Bucky grabbed Eveline and pulled her into the kitchen.

“What happened? Did she see something?”

Eveline crossed her arms and Bucky could tell by her sigh that she was trying to appear unaffected, but he could sense her unease beneath it. “She said a man was watching her from across the street.”

An intense wariness chilled Bucky’s bones at the notion of that little girl being watched. “Watching her?” he asked tightly.

“Keep your voice down. I don’t want her to hear you,” Eveline hissed at him. “She said it was the same man as last time—”

“Last time?!?”

“SHH!” Eveline’s gaze flicked worriedly over to the living room, but Lili was still blissfully watching the TV. “It happened a few weeks ago, and I was trying to come up with a way to tell you, but…”

She didn’t need to finish the thought. Bucky remembered the seemingly insurmountable tension that had been between them just last week. He sighed deeply through his nose. “Did you get any sort of description from her?”

Eveline shrugged. “Not much, just that he’s a man with dark brown hair and matching eyes.”

Their earlier conversation about Rumlow’s knowledge of Lili came back to his thoughts, and Bucky felt certain he had his answer. A grim fear settled at the base of his skull, and the look in Eveline’s eyes told him she knew exactly where his thoughts had turned.

“I don’t think Brock would be stupid enough to come this close, not when he knows we’re after him.”

“Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t send someone in his place.”

Eveline sighed and nodded, confirming that she’d feared the same thing. Bucky hated seeing that emotion in her eyes, but he hated that his home was no longer a place she felt safe even more. He’d failed to protect her once, he wouldn’t do so again.

“Maybe you should consider getting away for a bit,” he suggested in as calm a voice as he could. At the affronted expression that came over her face, he pressed on, “I know you’ve just started getting back into stuff, and I’m not trying to take you back out of it. I’m just saying, if we could find a way for you and Lili to disappear for a while, get you off Rumlow’s radar, you could continue work on the case, Lili would be safe, and it might force Rumlow’s hand and make it easier to find him.”

Eveline’s look of frustration melted into one of contemplation, and Bucky hoped she wouldn’t take his reasoning as overprotectiveness. He knew better than to attempt to whisk the two away from all dangers, but he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Lili.

After a moment, Eveline sighed and nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she consented, slowly moving her eyes back to his.

Bucky would take whatever he could get from her and nodded his acceptance. He held Eveline’s gaze for another few moments and did his best not to squirm, as she appeared to be appraising him. He didn’t know what it was she was looking for, and before he could ask if she’d found it, Lili’s voice called to them from the living room. They went in and finished their go fish tournament in time for Lili to finish her school day, and Bucky went back to his office to continue his work, but the fear that had pooled around his neck remained there for the rest of the day.

※ ※

The following morning, Eveline headed into the training gym to do her physical therapy exercises. Ignoring the sound of Bucky’s concerned voice in her head asking after her sleep the day before. It seemed Natasha wasn’t the only person who thought she was pushing too hard. She turned on the treadmill after completing her warmup stretches and started off at a slow pace. Given the family of training gyms she ran in Queens, Eveline knew all about rehabilitative training and the importance of pacing yourself, and felt she was qualified to monitor her own threshold.

A small part of her was touched that Bucky cared enough about her to notice the signs of physical burnout that she’d been ignoring, and say something to her about it. Their relationship had improved vastly in the week or so since their conversation on the roof. Eveline looked forward to their lunch dates and found herself thinking about him frequently throughout the day. They had exchanged phone numbers one afternoon when Lili had wanted to go hang out with Bucky, and they now remained in communication throughout the day. He would send her memes he came across that made him laugh — after having explained to her what a meme was — and Eveline would respond with the funniest thing Lili had said recently. It was a tentative friendship they were building with undertones of something more, and if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t really mind where it was going.

Eveline continued to move through the motions of her PT exercises, and her mind shifted as she did so. Thoughts of Bucky’s concerns for her recovery reminded her of his similar concerns for Lili yesterday. She was glad she had told him about the man now, not having intended to keep anything from him — especially not something as important as Lili’s safety and his home’s security. When they’d talked about it in the kitchen, Eveline had done her best to maintain a professional perspective, but the idea of someone watching her daughter was one that she found difficult to think objectively about, and if Brock had anything to do with it… She couldn’t finish the thought.

She moved from the elliptical to the stationary bike and contemplated the likelihood of Brock being behind Lili’s stalker — just using that noun made her sick to her stomach. For the life of her, Eveline couldn’t think of any way Brock could benefit from keeping tabs on her daughter. And for that matter, she couldn’t come up with a motive for any of his actions over the last month. The man had a job working for Pierce in Manhattan. Why on earth would he come to Brooklyn and get a job working for Bucky? Was it some kind of long game Pierce was playing? Eveline recalled her conversation with Bucky at lunch yesterday about Pierce’s potential involvement. That was the piece of the puzzle that was the most confusing, because if Brock was here doing all these things on Pierce’s orders, they needed to start considering what Pierce stood to gain from any of this.

Her attackers had said Brock wanted to start a mob war. New York hadn’t seen a real mob war in years, the various Mafia families having settled into their own territories to avoid further interference from the law. If there really were a mob war between Brooklyn and Queens, it might be true that any of the nearby mafia families could stand to benefit from their neighbor’s losses, but did Pierce really think gaining control of Brooklyn was worth risking something as big and messy as a mob war? Eveline didn’t think so. She knew Pierce, knew how he preferred to operate, and didn’t think he would risk such public scrutiny when he was running at the peak of his career. She agreed that Oliver’s death looked like Pierce’s work, but that didn’t necessarily link him to the rest of the case… did it? In the interrogation, Kingston had said Brock wanted to start a war, not Pierce, but could they trust his intel?

Eveline was so caught up in these thoughts that she didn’t notice Bucky had entered the gym until he came to stand in front of her bike. The look on his face had her slowing her pedaling to brace for whatever news he had to report.

She raised her eyebrows as he motioned for her to keep up her exercise. “You don’t have to stop, just listen.” He took his phone out of his pocket and began pulling something up. “You remember what Kingston said about Rumlow’s plan to set fire to my hotels?”

Eveline nodded, still a bit too winded for a verbal response. He turned his phone around to show her a video from the local news channel. The anchor was standing in front of Oliver’s hotel, and though she couldn’t hear what the woman was saying, she gathered from the three firetrucks and one ambulance on the scene that Kingston’s prediction had been more accurate than they had expected.

“There was a minor explosion in one of the 4th floor bathrooms,” Bucky explained — where the fire would be able to grow before the smoke alarm could detect anything, Eveline realized. Bucky’s face was grim as he continued. “All the news stations are reporting mob activity.”

The stationary bike beneath her beeped, signaling the end of her workout and the start of her cooldown. Eveline slowed the movement of her legs and attempted to take in deep breaths. A task made more challenging by the information she was struggling to process. Someone had triggered an explosion as an act of arson against Oliver’s hotel?

“Pepper’s been collecting a full report of the event. She wants us to meet in her office as soon as we can,” Bucky explained, putting his phone away.

Her movements having slowed to a stop, Eveline turned off the bike’s program, but remained seated where she was, taking slow breaths to calm her heart. “Do you think it’s connected to the plan Kingston was talking about?” she asked.

Bucky shrugged skeptically, “I was wondering the same thing, except…”

“It’s not one of your hotels,” Eveline finished, and he nodded.

“Which doesn’t really help Rumlow’s supposed goal of starting a war.”

Eveline agreed, but there was still something off about the attack. The fire had happened too soon after their interrogation of Brock’s men for it to feel like a coincidence, and with the news jumping immediately to mob activity? It wasn’t uncommon for the public to suspect the mob, but they usually only turned to that as a last resort.

Bucky’s phone dinged in the silence. “That’s Pepper. She’s ready for us,” he said, eyeing her position on the bike. Eveline hid her discomfort well, but she was sure he could still see the hesitation in her eyes at the prospect of maneuvering herself down off the bike so quickly. She’d had no trouble getting on or off the machine on her own since that first day, but she usually gave herself a bit more time to rest before maneuvering her sore hip up over the tall seat to disembark. When she still hadn’t moved, Bucky shot her a questioning look, and Eveline sighed resignedly before reaching her hand out in his direction.

Bucky did his best to conceal his amused chuckle and stepped closer, placing her outstretched hand on his shoulder and grabbing hold of her waist with one hand to steady her shaky limbs. Eveline relied on Bucky’s ridiculous upper body strength to stabilize her as she stood and shifted all of her weight onto one of the bike’s pedals. She tried really hard to focus on keeping her balance rather than the thick corded muscles of Bucky’s shoulder beneath her fingers, or the heat from his rough palm on her skin through her tank top. The soft words of encouragement coming from his lips certainly didn’t help, either. And honestly, what did the universe expect from her in her exhausted state when her senses were being assaulted by all things Bucky? As she swung her other leg over the seat of the bike, her toes caught and her body lurched forward.

Eveline would have hit the ground face first if Bucky hadn’t shifted in front of her and reached his other hand out to catch her, both of his hands now encircling her waist. “Woah, I gotcha,” he said in that same soft tone. His eyes lifted to hers and the gentle concern she found there stole her breath. Bucky held her suspended in the air, their faces mere inches apart, for only a few seconds longer before he breathed in sharply and took a small step back. Lifting her fully off of the bike, he placed her down beside him carefully, keeping one hand out to steady her for a moment before removing his hand from her side. Eveline felt the loss of that hand more than she’d expected and swayed forward slightly with his movement.

“Easy there, doll,” Bucky said in little more than a whisper, easily grabbing the hand she’d reached out for him.

Forcing herself to come back down to earth, Eveline found it within her to place her free hand on her hip and scowl lightly at him for the use of that endearment.

Bucky chuckled again and let go of her hand, which fell back to her side with a plop. He raised his arms in mock surrender with a sheepish look coming over his features as he stepped towards the gym door. “Sorry, Eveline,” he amended before gesturing that he would follow her towards Pepper’s office.

Eveline rolled her eyes dramatically before making her way to the door, calling on all her mental faculties to move at a controlled pace. She reminded herself why he had come to get her, and of the fire they were about to discuss, hoping to regain power over her wildly beating heart. It shouldn’t have been that easy for him to disarm her so thoroughly. It would have been faster to take the stairs up to the floor where Pepper’s office was, but given her body’s current state, Eveline opted for the elevator.

Thankfully, the closer they got to Pepper’s office, the tamer her thoughts became. She didn’t know what else Pepper could have found beyond what Bucky had already told her, but she knew it couldn’t be good if she had called a meeting to discuss it. The elevator doors opened, and Bucky followed her down the hall to Pepper’s office. Knocking once, Eveline opened the door and entered to find Steve and Pepper already talking.

“Sorry to have to interrupt your physical therapy, Eveline, but I appreciate you coming in. You’re really gonna want to see this,” Pepper said as Eveline took the seat next to Steve.

“I had just finished when Buck came to get me. It’s fine. What have you got?”

Turning one of her monitors to face them, Pepper began going through all the facts of the crime scene. Approximately three hours before, a small, remotely controllable explosive device detonated in the bathroom of room 406 at Oliver’s hotel. The explosion lit fire to the wallpaper, a pile of towels and clothes, and the shower curtain. And since the bathrooms do not have smoke detectors, these things were allowed to burn uninterrupted. The fire quickly consumed the wall between the bathroom and the adjoining bedroom as well, but someone had tampered with the smoke detector. After about 45 minutes, the blaze had grown large enough to burn through the wall into the hallway as well. Those smoke detectors did sound at that point, but, as police have found, all the sprinklers on that hall had been tampered with and did nothing to suppress the flames. The fire burned for around another 50 minutes before the fire department arrived and was able to put it out, but luckily, not much was damaged outside of the hotel rooms immediately surrounding room 406. Seeing as no one had been checked into any of the rooms in question, the police had been called in to investigate once the fire department deemed the area safe.

Eveline took in all this information with a frown. It didn’t seem like anybody knew much of anything about the situation yet. “And they haven’t examined the security footage for possible suspicious activity?” she asked.

“That’s the first problem: at some point last night, the security cameras were hijacked, and the live feed was replaced with older footage to cover it up,” Steve explained solemnly. “They have no way of knowing who even went to the fourth floor in the first place, let alone who might have nicked a master key to get into 406.”

“So they haven’t made any sort of statement?” Eveline asked.

Pepper gave her a worried look and pulled up a video from a local news channel of a policeman making a statement. “Without the use of security footage, we have had to resort, for the time being, to circumstantial evidence,” the officer stated. “We have conducted as thorough an examination of the room as was possible, given its condition, but most of the potentially useful evidence was burned away. We do, however, have one major lead.” The officer paused to pull a small evidence bag from his pocket to hold up to the camera. “This charm bracelet belonging to the current leader of the Queens mafia, Eveline Stone, was found on the scene. Miss Stone has notably been seen around the Brooklyn area for the last month, leading us to believe it is quite possible for her to have committed this crime.”

Eveline felt all the blood drain from her face. Even through the screen and the plastic of the evidence bag, she would recognize that bracelet anywhere. It had belonged to her mother, and Maggie had given it to her for her 20th birthday the year before she graduated college. She’d worn it almost daily during her final year at Cornell, but hadn’t put it on since before her time in Manhattan. Recently, Eveline had given the charm bracelet to her daughter for her ninth birthday. It was still too big for Lili’s wrist, so she had secured it around the neck of her favorite doll, like a necklace.

“Eveline,” Steve called softly, leaning forward from his seat next to her. “Is that your bracelet?” he asked, but Eveline only barely heard him. Her eyes were locked with Pepper’s, communicating silently about the significance of that bracelet having been found at the crime scene.

Pepper tilted her head forward, a single eyebrow raised in question. Was that bracelet inside this house? Eveline nodded her confirmation of Pepper’s fears. Her friend grimaced. Eveline posed a question with a sweep of her eyes around the room, but Pepper only shook her head. She knew nothing about who might be responsible. Pepper glanced decisively towards the door with her eyes, pointedly raising both eyebrows in a command, but Eveline shook her head at the idea of running away now.

“Eveline,” Pepper said with a commanding tone, “you know you can’t stay here.”

Steve looked back and forth between the two women, a confused look in his eyes. “Woah, woah what just happened here?” He turned back to Eveline. “Who said anything about you leaving town?”

Bucky moved from his place behind her chair and sank down beside her. “Eveline,” he placed his hand on her shoulder, “look at me.” She turned to meet his earnest gaze. “Where did they get the bracelet?”

She stared into his eyes for another moment before responding in a trembling voice, “Lili had put it on her doll as a necklace.” Fearful understanding dawned in his eyes as she finished, “It’s been in her room upstairs since we got here.”

Eveline watched, mesmerized, as a series of intense emotions rolled through his irises before finally landing on heated determination. “Eveline, if someone broke into Lili’s room without being detected, you know it’s not safe for her to stay here, especially not when someone has been keeping tabs on her.”

Eveline closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. She knew he and Pepper were right, and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her daughter, but simply running away from the problem didn’t sit right with her.

“And given that the Brooklyn police are on your ass now, it might not be a bad idea for you to disappear, either. Go off grid for a while,” Pepper encouraged. “Nat can stay here and be your representative, and keep you in the loop.”

“What can I even do?” Eveline asked, lowering her hands from her face. She couldn’t go back to Queens without confirming her guilt, but she didn’t have any safe houses established, and she refused to do anything that might put her mom or brother at risk. Feeling more helpless by the minute, she exclaimed, “I won’t just pack my daughter into the car and run away to god knows where”

Bucky held her worried gaze with a reassuring one of his own. “I’ll go with you,” he offered. Ignoring the expression on Steve and Pepper’s faces, he shrugged as casually as he could manage under the circumstances and said, “considering the mob angle the news stations are trying to spin, it would be good to negate any allegations that you’re attacking me.”

Feeling defeated, Eveline raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Where would we go?”

“We can go to my mom’s place on Long Island.”

“Bucky, I am not going to just drop in on your mother and put her at risk like that!”

He moved his touch from her shoulder to grab her hands in his own. “No, really, she’s one of my safe houses. It’s as close to off the grid as you can get in New York City, complete with a secure private entrance, and secure internet access thanks to Tony’s wi-fi security.” Bucky smiled and huffed a laugh. “And trust me, you don’t have to worry about putting my mom at risk. She’s the scariest person I know, and she’s been in much riskier situations, believe me.”

They sat in silence for a moment as Eveline looked around at her friends, old and new, and considered their argument. She supposed she hadn’t had much of a case to begin with and they had solutions for every excuse and counterpoint she presented. Realizing she’d lost the battle, Eveline slumped in her chair letting her head fall back, and for the first time since this whole mess started, she found herself blinking back tears because at the end of the day, it was her daughter’s safety on the line. She needed to get Lili out of Brooklyn, and Eveline had promised she’d never leave her daughter alone.

After a few more moments of negotiation, they agreed that Bucky, Eveline, and Lili would go for a week to Long Island with and stay with Bucky’s mom. Lili would still be able to keep up with her schoolwork, Eveline could continue with her PT and stay involved with the case, and Bucky could help his mom with various projects around the house she’d been waiting to get to until he came to see her next.

Bucky went over all the safety and privacy features of the home that qualified it as a safe house, and by the time he was finished, Eveline felt better about the whole thing. They decided to leave first thing the next morning to encounter the least amount of traffic and get settled in before Lili’s first class would start.

The meeting concluded, Bucky walked Eveline back to her room. Neither one of them said much on the way. Her mind consumed with thoughts of someone snooping through her daughter’s things while no one was there. It was that image that had finally convinced her to agree and leave town. Eveline could put up with a lot, but she drew the line at her daughter’s safety and wellbeing. Bucky left her at her door with the promise to come by later so they could discuss departure plans. The rest of the afternoon went by in a daze. Eveline informed Lili about their trip at lunch and finalized their plans with Bucky after dinner. She helped her daughter to pack before putting her to bed and then turned in for the night. Even knowing they had an early wake-up call in the morning, she struggled to fall asleep that night, her mind still spinning with thoughts of stalkers and arson. Eveline felt confident she was making the right choice for her daughter, but she couldn’t help but feel like they were playing right into Brock’s hands.

///

If you made it this far, thank you again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! It would mean the world to me if you could let me know what you thought, and if you noticed any mistakes, or if I neglected to include a chapter warning you think applies!

Taglist (open): @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @learisa @simplybombshell @buckysbabyyy @tonystankschild @calwitch

#Pride and Percptionmobster!buckymob!buckymafia!buckybucky barnes x ocbucky barnes x readerbucky barnes imaginebucky barnes fanfictionavenger

1 note · View note

noperopesaredope · 3 years

Text

Fics That I Really Like A Lot

So, I just wanted to make a post uplifting some really great fics I’ve read/am subscribed to or still keeping up with. I like to let people know about other creators, and I just wanted to mention some works I think people should check out.

(Note, this post was made on Sep 2, 2021, so when I say something is recent, I mean compared to when I made this post)

Tangled the Series Fics (Mostly Varian Fics):

Walls of Stone (Finished)

Varian and Whumptober 2020 (Series) (Finished) (Sidenote; I really like this author in general, but there is just so much great whump and extreme angst in this series! Says they are but a humble freshman, but I say they are a very skilled freshman!)

How Pneumonia Stopped a Stubborn Alchemist from Descending into Villainy (Finished)

Screw Treasure, I got Trauma (Finished)

Tangled One-shots (Series) (Finished? I Think?)

Voluntary Manslaughter (Finished)

I’ll Always Lend an Ear (Finished)

Drown Your Past, Burn your Future (Series) (Unfinished, but still going strong)

Scars of a Child (Series) (Unfinished)

Unrelenting Silence (Finished)

Where was the happily ever after? (Finished? Unsure)

All our Dreams (Down the Drain) (Unfinished)

Not All Falling Stars Grant Wishes (Finished)

Alchemy Lullaby (Series) (Finished)

Insignificant (Finished)

Second Chances (Almost finished)

The Pawn Decides Its Fate (Finished)

Unsaid Emily (Finished)

Today, Today (Finished)

The Pride in Your Eyes (Unfinished, but still somewhat new)

Monster (Finished)

You Are Enough (Finished)

An Alchemist’s World (Unfinished, but the first four chapters could definitely work as a standalone fic, so, in my eyes it’s finished)

Too Smart for Your Own Good (Unfinished, going strong)

To find the Sundrop (Unfinished)

There’s More in You (Unfinished)

The Science of Love (Unfinished, going very strong)

Season 2 But Gayer (Unfinished, going strong-ish)

On My Honor (Series) (Unfinished, going extremely strong with consistant updates)

A Prince and His Bodyguard (Series) (Unfinished, going strong)

Rocks, Wolves, and the Moon (Series) (Unfinished, going strong)

Return to Me (Unfinished, going strong)

Perilous Night (Unfinished, possibly discontinued, but worth a bit of the read)

Nomad (Unfinished, author is working on multiple projects, so IDK)

No Reward for Second Place (Unfinished, but fairly new and somewhat well updated)

Oath of the Lawbreaker (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

New Quest for Varian (Unfinished, fairly new)

My Dear Son (Unfinished)

Insignificant (Finished)

Indentured (Unfinished, same author as Nomad)

Enter the mind, remove the sins (Unfinished, going pretty strong)

Darkness exists to make the light truely count (Unfinished, going strong. Updated about every month or two, with consistency)

Creeping Crystals (Unfinished, but going somewhat strong)

Blood of My Brother (Unfinished, going as one of the strongest in its fast updates)

Cyclorama (Finished) (Companion to Blood of My Brother)

Chemistry in Motion (Unfinished)

Away from Home (Unfinished)

Alone? (Unfinished-ish)

It’s just a mild inconvenience (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Gauze in the Wound (Unfinished, pretty consistent last I checked)

Blood Makes the Knife Holy (Series) (Unfinished, but each part could work as their own fics, and it’s still going)

A Progression of Events (Unfinished)

He Needs Me (Unfinished, going strong)

Or So They Though (Unfinished, going pretty strong)

The Long Road Back to Home (Unfinished, hasn’t been updated in a bit, but is pretty long and each chapter could take about a couple months to finish, and even longer if the creator is stuck/has other fics. Still worth the read)

The Road Home (Different) (Unfinished)

Reunion at Sea (Unfinished, going strong)

Elements of Angst (Unfinished, probably updated soon)

Arson (Unfinished, every time it think that maybe it’s been discontinued, it comes back)

Unconventional Family (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

To find the Sundrop (Unfinished)

Wayward AU (Comic) (Unfinished, pretty consistent)

RWBY (Mainly Oscar Fics):

It’s Venomous (Finished)

Will you stand and be brave or be broken? (Finished)

Oscar Gets Himself a Coat (Finished)

Who You Belong To (Finished)

Imperfect Light (Finished)

Shell (Finished)

Blood on Both Hands (Finished)

Tell Me that I am a Fool (Finished)

If i believed in destiny i'd have to hunt it down and punch it in the face (Series) (Unfinished, can have the occasionally long hiatus, but the creator comes back)

Is Oscar okay? no but the answer is b (Finished)

Running From Memories (Finished)

Rescue Me (Unfinished)

Souls of Love and Bravery (Unfinished, relatively consistent updates)

Revert To Last Save File (but it's the wrong file) (Unfinished, but still going)

Broken Body and Souls (Finished)

Camp Camp:

David’s Family (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Horror Camp (A little too much child whump for me, but it’s very whumpy) (Unfinished)

Inconvenience (Unfinished)

Still Here (One of my favs) (Finished)

Hetalia (Mainly America and Canada Centric):

Recovering the Broken Pieces (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

Hetalia 2020 - WWIII and more (Unfinished)

(More fics in the crossover section)

She-ra (Quite a few Kyle ones):

The Chronicles of Kyle (Unfinished)

Sunflowers (Finished)

She-Ra: In the Wake (Unfinished)

Princesses and co. work through their issues (Unfinished)

What is Heard (Cannot be Unheard) (Finished)

Long Way Home (Unfinished)

The Hollowed of Etheria (Discontinued. For now at least. Author might revamp it)

Hordak and the Orphans of the Horde (Unfinished)

Big Sis (Finished)

Ex-Horde (Finished? Pretty good on its own though)

Prisoner of Conscience (Unfinished, still going strong)

Tales of Arcadia (Mostly Douxie Fics):

The Immortal Bonds (Unfinished, going strong)

I Can Make RotT So Much Worse (Unfinished, going strong)

Not After 900 Years (Finished)

A Different Path (Finished)

Half-Remembered (Finished)

Shattered Timelines (Unfinished, going strong)

In the Fullness of Time (Unfinished, updated recently)

One Last Time (Unfinished, updated recently)

Tales of Arcadia Watch Trollhunters: Rise of the Titans (Unfinished)

Crossover Fics:

Sold (TTS/HtTYD) (Finished) (Author is really good at angsty oneshots that should be made into full fics)

Varian’s Mysterious Transport (TTS/Infinity Train) (Unfinished, unexpected updates)

Of Rocks and Robots (TTS/Big Hero Six) (Series) (Unfinished, very consistent)

(Like the moon) I'll sway the tide and lead you astray (TTS/HtTYD) (Unfinished, haven’t read in a while)

Heathers and other fandoms react to stuff (Multifandom Crossover Fanfiction) (Unfinished, confusing update schedule, not every fandom gets much spotlight, still incredibly fun)

Chemistry in Motion (TTS/Big Hero Six) (Unfinished)

The Weight of Both Worlds (Hetalia/RWBY) (Series) (Finished) (My favorite fic ever)

Infinity (Hetalia/BNHA) (Unfinished, possibly discontinued)

G8 china in UA, 1-S class! (Hetalia/BNHA) (Unifinished, possibly dicontinued)

That Which Makes Up This Land (Hetalia/ATLA) (Unfinished, author is editing and reposting all their series, which could take about a year, but it will be back)

A Waterbending Quirk (ATLA/BNHA) (Unfinished, going strong)

Other Fics:

Earth is Odd Enough (Sanders Sides) (Unfinished)

UA Faculty Tiktok OCs (BNHA) (Webtoon) (Check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63lWYueDsek&t=208s, she’s amazing) (Unfinished. The Tiktoks, on the otherhand, are very much still going)

Harry Potter and the Lack of Lambsauce (Harry Potter) (Finished)

Grinch x Tony the Tiger (You know) (Unfinished)

Flowey is Not a Good Life Coach (Undertale) (Finished)

It Wears a Mask (MCU Spiderman) (Finished)

A Different Fate (Harry Potter) (Finished)

A crack in the glass (eye) (ATLA) (Finished)

Identity Saga (MCU Spiderman) (Series) (Unfinished, author is very dedicated to fic and is incredibly determined to finish it, so highly unlikely to be discontinued)

Bakery Enemies AU (Miraculous Ladybug) (Comic) (Unfinished, going strong)

Authors I Like:

AquaQuadrant aka @aquaquadrant (probably know them if you’re in the Varian fandom. Ridiculously talented)

bethhigdon (in the TTS fandom and the Big Hero Six fandom, but also other stuff)

Cate_9xBlue aka @cate-9xblue (known best for their TTS fics)

Royalsciencenerd (Writes amazing TTS Varian fics)

HoneyxMonkey aka @honeyxmonkey (Writes TTS fics and talks a lot about Tales of Arcadia on their blog. Has some great ideas)

Sand_wolf579 (Has a large and varied catalogue)

ExploretheEcccentricities aka @exploretheeccentricities (Lots of TTS fics)

ShadowSnowdapple aka @shadowsnowdapple (RWBY Oscar fics that are amazing)

Widowfics (Great TTS writer)

AMax76 (Wrote the amazing Blood of My Brother)

violetsaren_tblue (has some great TTS fics I like)

Time Traverser (Excellent Hetalia America and Canada Fics)

Aloneintherain aka @captainkirkk (Just started reading their stuff, SO many excellent Spider-Man fics)

So yeah, just giving some appreciation for all the fic creators out there and their creations!

292 notes · View notes

rivers-rambles21 · 3 years

Text

The one with the surprise

Part 5 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

“C’mon, where are you taking me doll?”

Bucky trailed behind you, his feet dragging as he continued to moan about your late night adventure. You’d lured him out with a promise of pizza but as you exited the train in Queens, his mood had turned sour.

“Not much further, I promise” You waited for him to catch up and looped your arm through his. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Pineapple on pizza comes to mind” He muttered, eyes darting around the quiet street.

With a sigh you dug into your purse and retrieved your secret weapon “I’ll give you these if you stop whining” You shook the bag of cashews you’d picked up from the store in front of his face before swiftly moving it from his grasp. “Nope! Hey!” Bucky had made a grab for the bag but you’d quickly anticipated his move and spun on the spot, taking it out of reach.

As you turned, Bucky’s arm moved with you, pulling him into your back as you bent over in an attempt to stop him from getting his snack.

You laughed as he snaked his arm around your side, pulling you flush against him as he tried to take the bag from you, his fingers brushing your sides in an attempt to tickle you.

With a jolt, your ass pressed back into him in a vain attempt to free yourself from his grasp. You both stilled as your behind pressed into his crotch, acutely aware of just what you were feeling. Bucky was the first to act and swiftly removed his arms from around you, glancing around in embarrassment.

Standing straight, you adjusted your dress which had become dislodged. “Shall we?” You asked, trying to act as though nothing happened.

“Yep.” He responded, a bit too quickly.

To try and ease the tension, you ripped open the bag of nuts. “Here” You threw one toward him which he caught with his mouth effortlessly. “Thanks doll”

You smiled back and looped your arm back into his, directing him down the road.

A few minutes later you arrived at your destination and you held your breath as you both looked up at the building.

“What do you think?”

Bucky simply glanced down and smiled at you, his white teeth catching the light from the street lights.

“This is one of the very few perks I get with my job, I figured who better to enjoy it with?”

“How do we get in?” Bucky asked, pulling you towards the doors at the front.

“Security will let us in, they’ll be doing the odd patrol as standard but apart from that, we’ll have the place to ourselves”

“Y/n… this is incredible”

“Yeah well… I knew you wouldn’t come here because of the crowds and I didn’t want you to miss out.”

You’d brought him to the New York Hall of Science in Queens way past closing time. After dedicating to a ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime, your boss had finally relented and given you access to the contacts who ran the museum. Using your company's connections, you’d manage to swindle full exclusive access to the museum for the entire night.

Over the past few months you’d picked up on Bucky’s interests, one of them being technology. Despite spending most of the last 70 years in a big freezer, he loved technology of the modern age, often speaking of the projects Shuri was working on in Wakanda.

You spent the next hour or so strolling around the many exhibits, reading up on each subject and interacting with the activities throughout the building. Bucky didn’t know where to look next, each section of the museum peaking his interest more and more.

“Okay so I may have one more surprise for you” You confessed as you gently steered him towards the theatre.

Bucky remained silent as he felt himself become overwhelmed. He was genuinely touched by the thought you’d put into the entire evening, slightly bewildered why you even bothered with him in the first place. He knew he could be hard work, he often spent days being a miserable bastard, responding with only sarcasm. Yet you stuck around and got to know him and his quirks. Heck the two of you had gotten that close you knew how he’d been eager to pay a visit to the museum but hadn’t due to the worry of being recognised.

He’d now stopped kidding himself and accepted he felt something more than friendship for you. At first he brushed his feelings off as purely physical as afterall it had been over 70 years since he’d been with a woman and he’s not blind. Everything you did drove him insane. It took all his self control to stop himself from kissing you senseless every time you hung out.

The closer you both got, the deeper he fell for you. He tried his best to find fault with you but he came up short every time.

He loved how easy you were to talk to, how you never pushed him too far or tried to change him into something he’s not. He loved how selfless you were, always thinking of others before yourself. He also loved how thoughtful you were, constantly coming up with plans or ideas on what you both could do so he wasn’t cooped up in his apartment all day.

Bucky had fallen hard.

“Now we do have other options if you’re not feeling it but I thought we could watch the original Dracula!”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile as you looked up at him with excitement etched across your face. All he wanted to do was kiss you.

“So what do you think?” You asked, waiting for his response.

“I think you’re incredible.” You beamed up at him and led him into the quiet theatre which was housed within the museum.

“Grab a seat and I’ll be right back”

Bucky nodded in response and picked one of the seats in the middle of the empty theatre, pulling his phone out as he did. He flicked through some of the pictures you had both taken throughout the evening, landing on the one of you both in the space exhibit. He’d bent down to your level for the photo to be taken, your arms not quite long enough to get you both in frame otherwise. You’d flashed a smile for the photo, leaning back into him, pressing your face against his as he did his best to pose for the photo. It had been a long time that he’d had a photo taken that wasn’t linked to a crime. Smiling to himself, he updated his settings and set it to his background.

The lights then dimmed and the screen changed as the movie began. A moment later the door swung open and closed as you entered the theatre, your shoes stomping down the isles as you raced over to Bucky, eager to get there before the film started.

“I remember seeing this when it first came out.” Bucky confessed, a small smile gracing his face as he recalled the memory. “Me and Steve snuck in shortly after it started, we were too broke and young to get in on our own. He was so worried we’d get caught he spent the entire movie watching the door.”

You laughed along with him, struggling to imagine the Captain America you’d seen on the news sneaking into a movie theatre. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the blanket you had brought with you and covered you both in it, sinking into the warmth it gave as the movie began.

Although it was a horror, you both couldn't help but laugh at some of the scenes, special effects had come a long way since the 30’s.

The evening had gone exactly as planned. You’d wanted to do something special for Bucky for a while, knowing he didn’t venture out much due to the large crowds making him a bit uneasy.

Your friends at work had teased you about it after they heard the hoops you had jumped through to pull the entire thing off; knowing you wouldn’t put in so much effort for someone you regarded as just a friend.

You’d wanted your relationship with Bucky to develop into something more for a while now; you couldn’t deny the attraction you had with him and the bond that had developed. Deep down though, you knew he had a lot going on that he needed to work through and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. You heard his tortured screams on a night as the nightmares took a hold of him. You never brought it up but you saw how it affected him. The dark circles under his eyes were always a dead give away.

Although your body craved something more with him, you were content on leaving things how they were. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and wouldn’t risk losing it.

It was the early morning when you both left the museum, having thoroughly enjoyed yourselves. Due to the late hour you agreed on hailing a taxi and sat in comfortable silence on the journey home as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Begrudgingly you watched as Bucky paid the driver as you reached your apartment building and accepted his hand as he helped you out of the cab.

“Thank you for tonight”

“Don’t mention it” You replied as you entered the empty elevator, pressing the button for your floor.

“The last person who did anything like that for me was Steve” He confessed as he rubbed the gold markings on his vibranium hand, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

“You’re making me blush Serg” The nickname slipped out without you realising and you glanced a peak over at the man beside you.

He simply shook his head, grinning to himself as he followed you out of the elevator.

#bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #ao3 #tfatws #fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you

109 notes · View notes

inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

Text

Here’s chapter ten! I do believe this is the first chapter with absolutely no dialogue! I hope you enjoy it regardless!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Ten: Soft Shadows

Redemption is a hard process. Yet the cycles seem to make it easy for one particular demon.

----------

Redemption was a tricky thing. It required so many different events to happen in a certain order that it rarely occurred.

The first step was to commit some form of wrongdoing.

This was unfortunately the easiest part to do and most people never moved on to the next.

The second step was to realize and acknowledge your actions as wrong or harmful.

Many had justified their own actions over the course of existence and never saw themselves as doing wrong. Worse, many knew their behavior to be cruel and simply did not care or relished the feelings of power it gave them.

The final step was perhaps the most difficult to achieve.

One had to feel genuine remorse for their actions and wish to change.

Very few actually made it this far in the process as it usually required a catalyst of some sort. A personal revelation after going too far or someone laying your actions out clinically so you couldn’t justify them. Even a single act of unconditional kindness and trust could make someone wish to change.

Then came the truly hard part: actively changing your actions.

The path to redemption was not a short one. It took a lifetime of pursuit and dedicated work to not slip into the temptation of reverting back to who you were before.

Closing yourself off and pretending you didn’t care was easy, after all. What was difficult was being honest with yourself and allowing yourself to feel.

It helped if you had people around you to offer support and love. If it was from the same people who you had harmed originally, all the better.

But earning forgiveness wasn’t the goal of redemption. Some would refuse to give it, and you would have to live with that as it was their right to do so. It may hurt, but you had hurt them first and have no right to demand it even if you had changed.

Being redeemed wasn’t for the benefit of one’s victims. The hope was that you could grow into being a better person. It was for your own personal peace of mind. Whether others choose to accept that you’ve changed was not up to you, but you must continue onward regardless if you were to ever live with yourself.

Tang was intimately familiar with this process. The amount of cycles where he had been some sort of villain was not small.

The first three steps came easy to him. Feeling remorse for his wrongdoings and wishing to change were simple for one stuck jumping through time.

He could even spot a suitable catalyst for his potential ‘redemption’ fairly quickly. MK’s kindness and belief of the good in most people had certainly been useful on many occasions.

Having the whole process down to a science himself, Tang was even able to pull others into changing their ways sometimes. The Demon Bull family were commonly caught in his actions whenever he was a part of it.

(Having Red Son as a younger sibling had been interesting.)

What was bemusing to the scholar was that throughout the cycles there was one person who would constantly be redeemed, even without his meddling.

The Six Eared Macaque was an interesting puzzle.

He seemed to fit into the group that knew their actions were harmful, but did not care. Yet time and time again, he would become one of their allies.

Tang hadn’t known much about the demon early on in the cycles, but the knowledge about him came inevitably.

Macaque had been a “beloved friend” of Sun Wukong in the past. At some point, they had a falling out, Macaque seeing it as being left behind by Wukong.

The scholar had actually experienced part of that tension back in that cycle with the time traveling cactus.

So it seemed feelings of betrayal, jealousy, and abandonment were Macaque’s main motivations.

That last one was eerily similar to MK’s insecurities.

Macaque was very much like both Wukong and MK when Tang stopped to think about it. All three had repressed emotional trauma and coped with them in wildly unhealthy ways. Usually by pretending they weren’t there.

Macaque channeled those repressed emotions into schemes of revenge. He used lies and illusions to get what he wanted. He was condescending and sarcastic to his enemies, seemingly cruel and uncaring.

And it was all a facade.

At least, most of the time. There were a few cycles where Macaque was genuinely a despicable person who showed no remorse.

As much as he tried to hide it, Macaque was actually a very emotional being. It was quite easy for him to get attached to one or more of their group and slowly his cruel streak would fade.

Macaque’s catalyst for change was usually a person. It differed from cycle to cycle, but someone would show him some kindness or trust and before Tang knew it they would have another sarcastic immortal monkey as a part of the team.

MK was obviously the most common person to get the demon to change. Macaque was not lying when he called him a good kid. Having four father figures in those cycles seemed to be good for MK.

Wukong, while usually not the initial catalyst, tended to play a big part in Macaque’s redemption. Being old friends, they knew each other extremely well. While that tended to lead to a lot of arguments, it also led to them picking up where they had left off their previous relationship.

It didn’t really bother Tang that said relationships were often romantic in nature. Watching the two monkeys cuddle when they thought no one was looking was just too cute.

Mei was an interesting choice for Macaque to become attached to. He often ended up becoming her mentor, teaching her how to properly wield the Dragon Blade. Both of their sarcastic natures worked surprisingly well together.

The biggest surprise had been Pigsy.

That cycle, Macaque was basically under house arrest as ordered by Heaven. Pigsy, not wanting the manipulative demon to be anywhere near MK, forced him to stay at their apartment. It was some time later when Tang had woken late in the night to some loud noises and had left his room to complain.

Only to find Macaque pressing a kiss to Pigsy’s cheek before fleeing his room, pursued by a flustered and angry pig demon soon after.

It was strange, but Pigsy’s gruff and silent compassion meshed really well with Macaque’s easy going and nonchalant attitude. The scholar found their affection towards each other endearing.

Tang supposed it was only a matter of time before he himself acted as Macaque’s catalyst.

The cycle had started early, about a year before the original events. While working at the library, Tang had been approached by what he immediately recognized as Macaque in his human disguise. He had requested help on learning more about The Journey to the West for a school assignment. Tang, deciding to play along, offered himself up as an expert on the story and they began meeting weekly to go over it.

Macaque truly did not know the full events of the Journey in this cycle and seemed upset at several points, such as learning about the fillet used to inflict pain on Wukong. Over time, the pair began to meet up more often and discuss things other than the famous book.

He really should have expected falling in love.

Macaque was still sarcastic as ever, but never malicious. He made jokes and comparisons that had Tang’s side aching from how hard he laughed. He was quick to pick up Tang’s quirks and preferences, surprising him with his favorite foods or a nice new set of bookmarks.

He was still Macaque, but this softer side of him made Tang’s chest flutter.

As he lay in bed with his partner, (who had still yet to reveal himself to Tang, but he was patient), Tang couldn’t help but feel a new place in his heart open up for the shadow demon. He had already been considering adding Macaque into his family due to the many times he had joined them, and this just solidified that decision.

Oh Tang knew the cycles where he never changed would be painful. Watching as someone he loved went down a path of self destruction wasn’t easy. But he held onto the knowledge that there would always be the cycles where Macaque did become a part of their family.

As long as the possibility existed, there was hope that the same could happen in his own timeline.

If he ever got back that is.

Tang shoved that increasingly reoccurring thought away and closed his eyes, letting the soothing sounds of Macaque’s breathing lull him to sleep.

----------

A NEW CHALLENGER APPROACHES!

Macaque is the fandom’s darling bad boy, so of course I had to have a chapter discussing his many, MANY redemption’s over the many fics and AU’s.

In particular, (Teach Me to Be) Tougher Than Leather, Softer Than Silk by *checks notes* HOLY SHIT! I had no idea this was by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off until just now! *ahem* Anyway it is an AMAZING fic with a practically never used pair and I highly recommend it.

Tang seems to have a type doesn’t he? Demons that seem emotionally distant, but are big softies at heart. It’s probably the purring that gets him. ;P Also does Tang/Macaque have a ship name? If not I'm dubbing it InkyPages.

Don’t worry Tang! I’m sure those intrusive thoughts will go away all on their own.

Important notice! I’m probably going to be putting this fic on the back burner for a bit because I really want to write about the cycle mentioned here. Not as part of Scattered Cicadas, but as its own thing. So keep an eye out for that!

Until next time!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #Macaque #Six Eared Macaque #ninja-knox-ur-sox-off #(Teach Me to Be) Tougher Than Leather Softer Than Silk #MK #Mei #Pigsy #Sun Wukong #squidinknoodleshipping #Tang/Macaque #what IS their ship name anyway?#InkyPages #InkyPagesShipping #LEGO Monkie Kid

42 notes · View notes

ask-artsy-oncie · 3 years

Note

what kind of pokemon do you think the ducktale crew would have if they were trainers?

I'm only doing main partner pokemon bc I don't think I can flesh out teams for everyone

Scrooge - okay so this one was actually really difficult. I really see him as specializing in steel-types, because aside from his immense wealth, a major defining trait for Scrooge is how he's self-made (through his adventuring) and, less notably, his distaste for magic. I think all of this has a lot of cohesion with the steel type, but finding the right pokemon was a challenge. I was hoping for something from Galar, but nothing really jumped out to me as vibing particularly well with him, so I think the best fit I could find would be Aegislash, which is, at least, also from a European region, and fits well with his adventurer motif. If anyone has any better ideas feel free to send them in, though, cos I'm still not entirely sure.

Donald - Specializes in water-types. It would be entirely fitting of Donald's luck for him to get stuck with a magikarp. But with hard work and dedication (and a decent amount of rage) he ends up raising it into a Gyarados. He would also have the mega-stone for it.

Della - Specializes in flying-types. It was so fucking tempting to give her a celesteela, but not only would that be kind of mean, but I also want to refrain from using any ultra beasts. That being said, I think that Skarmory might be a good fit, because it still does retain the same flying/steel mix, and I do think that Scrooge has rubbed off on Della, significantly (for better or for worse). Plus I think it fits her motif very well (planes, metal flying machines, while Donald sails boats, watercraft that catch the air in their sails, and goes well with a water/flying type). I was also really tempted to give her a rayquaza, but I also wanted to refrain from using any legendaries. Mayhaps she went to space chasing a rayquaza, tho?

Huey - eclectic in his type choices, he likes to have an extremely varied team. Obviously this makes it harder to narrow down his partner pokemon, but I feel like it suits him. I also feel like Girafarig suits him - I think he initially relates to it as he ascribes his own rage to a persona he feels is an antithetical "side" to his "normal" personality that he needs to supress, yet ultimately, he learns that the Duke is simply an aspect of himself and a part to his whole, just like how Girafarig is not comprised of two separate pokemon, but is instead just a single creature.

Dewey - Electric-types for suuuure. It just fits his high-energy personality so well, and I think it also has synergy with his desire to be a media star, since iirc most reporters, interviewers, and camera-people in the games carry electric-types. I think Jolteon would work well with him, since as much as he would hate to admit it, he does tend to gravitate towards the basic and popular, which the eeveelutions definitely are. And though pikachu would have been the obvious choice in that case, I think Jolteon fits his aesthetic, best.

Louie - ooookay I am going to cheat on this one a little because I do have two pokemon in mind for Louie. Firstly, I think he favors both normal- and dark-types, though he isn't too hard-pressed about types. His main partner pokemon would be either a Meowth or an Alolan Meowth, though either way he never intends to evolve it. Cats. Money. Louie. It works. I am very adamant about Louie having some kind of Meowth as a partner. I also believe he would have an Absol. Absol just seems like such a good pokemon for anxious people to have, since it can easily sense and warn about disasters. I think Louie would value that, a lot.

Webby - with Webby's high value and priority on friendship, I think the fairy type would be a very good fit for her (especially since she is a part of Team Magic) though, I also think she would at least try to keep a varied team. Her partner would be Mimikyu - because oh my god look at this little guy, it needs a friend so bad!! Webby will be its friend!! And she'll give it all the love and attention it needs. Of course, it knows Return.

Lena - Ghosts, Dark, Psychics, Faeries, anything that exudes a magic and mystical energy to match her own. Lena would definitely be one of those "psychic" trainers who absolutely has powers of her own, but still takes the time to raise pokemon. Her partner would be a Gardevoir - a pokemon very in-tune with emotions that compliments Lena in her struggle to control her emotions and magic. It would also be a shiny Gardevoir and Lena would also have its mega-stone, because then they would share the blue-black-and-white palette. And when they're both powered-up, Lena loses the black in her palette while Mega-Gardevoir gains it.

Violet - Violet also has an affinity for the more "magical" types her sister and friend are. I think that, due to her interest in witchcraft and metaphysics as a field of study, I'm a bit torn between Gothitelle and Hatterene. She probably would have both, I'm just torn on who her partner would be. On one hand, I could lean harder into the metaphysics aspect, since that's what one of her fathers studies/teaches, and go with Gothitelle, but Hatterene also gives her more synergy with Lena because their partner pokemon would be the exact same type combination. I'm not sure.

BOYD - A Ditto!! Not just for their implied connection to science and the steel-type, but because BOYD (in-universe) was also designed to replicate (and ultimately be) a real person.

Hahahaaaa that took a lot of thinking! Thank you for the challenge!! I do have more ideas but I think I'm going to stop there before it gets too long. Also sorry if you meant "ducktales crew" literally. I don't know those people well enough to assign them pokemon, lol.

#Ducktales #DT17 #Pokemon #Also - Ty's partner is Joltik he specializes in bug-types #Kit's partner is Tropius and he specializes in flying-types #GLOMGOLD'S PARTNER IS SHARPEDO OBVIOUSLY!!!

24 notes · View notes

woozisnoots · 4 years

Text

modest jeon wonwoo

° pairing: wonwoo x reader ° genre: university!au, host club!au, fluff ° word count: ~1.7k ° warnings: none! ° a/n: this had no business being this long and idek if i like it lol but I want to specifically dedicate this piece to @wonwoosimp bc she’s literally the sweetest, best bean in the world [insert uwu meme here] thank you for gifting me my very first photocard, I literally cried opening it! I love you so much, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to the svt host club!

masterlist!

you entered university with a certain goal, a purpose. eventually, you were going to be the pediatric surgeon that the 13 year old you ushered you to be.

…let's just hope the knowledge of your brain was enough to get you through the first four years of pre-med. with your 3.7 high school GPA, you were lucky to get into your first choice college, let alone your current major

from the start of the semester, you dedicated yourself to studying the anatomy and physiology of the body until you knew every nook and cranny there was to know. and the library was the perfect sanctuary to get your shit together

as much as you loved your roommates, their constant fights over closet space and boy toys gave you no peace of mind what-so-ever

bless the library for being opened 24/7. If your roommates found you sleeping on their only working desk, you would find yourself waking up to the sound of tripping freshmen trying to get to their first 8am class right in the middle of the hallway

but the lone table in the corner of the library just on the third floor did you good at staying focused. even provided some good naps in between every now and then

the day before your first anatomy test, you LOCKED yourself in the library. no one was going in OR OUT of the premise just to sit across from you on YOUR table until you fully memorized the different layers of epithelial tissue >:(

gosh, you even scattered all your notes across the table just so people got the memo that this seat was: [OFF LIMITS]

yes, off limits to everyone except a certain jeon wonwoo.

the way you met was abrupt to say the least

besides your table, you had a pretty good view of the entire campus — from the main health science building all the way to the student parking lot

and just below you, an astonishing sight of a mob of screaming girls chasing after a mouse guy in glasses. not to be inconsiderate and heartless, but unless you heard someone scream bloody murder, diving back into your flashcard you go

tissue after tissue, you start to get delusional because at this point, everything is starting to look the same

slumping down into your chair, you take a second to mentally recharge, drinking the water you’ve neglected for the past three hours

you time yourself for a five minute break, going through the notifications on your phone

before you could read your roommate’s ongoing ramble on the latest update of the “crazy good looking, god-like, elite host club that the university has to offer”

a ‘club’ that you didn’t even know anything about nor cared for

you hear a loud ‘thud’ coming from the bookcase in front of you

from the side the tall, lean guy with glasses that you saw earlier emerged with his hands gripping his tricep

you try not to draw too much attention to him. half the reason being you didn’t want to embarrass him by laughing at the fact he ran into a 10 feet tall bookcase

and you did not need this man distracting you. it’s your eight week streak being this productive, a new record for anything you’ve done in your entire life and your pride wouldn’t let you have it if you lost it just because you saw an attractive man on sight

you scribble down a decent guess to the tissue identification question that you’ve been stuck on for the past few minutes, not bothering to look up

“that’s actually dense connective tissue, not smooth”

jolting up from your seat, you look up realizing the guy 5 feet away is now right in front of your face looking down at all your papers

“you can tell because they’re striated”

you stare at him in disbelief wondering how he could have gotten so fast with just looking at it for a few seconds. eyeing him up and down, he definitely looked around the same age as you but he wasn’t someone you’ve seen around the science buildings. and you would know since you took the liberty of familiarizing almost everyone within the department

“do you mind if i sit here?” his hands already on the edge of the chair ready to pull it out from underneath him

“...yeah sure”

“oh i’m wonwoo by the way,” he says as you both exchange awkward stares and knowledgeable nods

okay well since he’s proven that he might be of help to you, you might as let him stay. from what you’ve gathered, he didn’t have any stuff on him aside from his phone that you watch him get out of his front pocket, getting ready to play pacman

forget how attractive he is, this guy has some brains.

for the rest of the day, as you guys sat across from each other, wonwoo would occasionally bounce back and forth between giving you study tips and playing whatever game he decides to play at that moment in time

he was surprisingly really good at this? he knew more things about the subject than your professors did, and that’s saying a lot. like you’ve been looking at cells for WEEKS and you were lucky to get at least half of them. which begs the question:

“how do you magically know all this?”

the blank expression on his face tells you he wasn’t expecting that question but he quickly shrugs it off. “i just know a few things from my parents that’s all”

you would have questioned him further but the time on your phone read “22:57” and you already broke your number rule about sleeping early before a big test

as you pack up all your stuff, wonwoo pushes his chair in, bidding you farewell

“good luck on your test tomorrow!”

you appreciate the gesture, mentally thanking him for his help and proceed to go back to your dorms, preparing yourself to tell your roommate all about the exciting? day you had

“YOU MORON. JEON WONWOO?”

laying flat on your back on your bed, you cover the bottom half of your face, quivering under your sheets as you stare at your roommate’s outrageous outburst

you explain what happened and who you met today at the library. when your roommate asked to describe him in more detail, all you said was that he was pretty smart for someone who wasn’t particularly in your major

your roommate lets out a loud scream into their pillow, gripping the bed sheets before giving you the earful of the century

“he’s just being modest. he’s a korean lit major but he’s one of the uni’s top students since both his parents are the head of the science department.

…AND he’s one of the most requested host club members. so you caught yourself one big fish today bud.”

top student? science department? HOST CLUB? none of that was processing in your brain. the one club that you wanted nothing to do with and you just happened to meet their top money maker

grand.

the thought didn’t keep you up at night only because you thought that today’s encounter was just coincidence and you probably would never have to see him again.

(sad though, your roommate was right. he is rather good looking.)

the time that it took for you to take your test the next day flew by so fast that you questioned if it even happened. the first step you took out the classroom, you start to second guess all your answers, regretting that you didn’t check a third or even fourth time before submitting

your train of thought halts when you see jeon wonwoo standing in the empty hallway

“i’m sure you aced it”

and just like in a netflix original romance movie, he reveals a bouquet of pink begonias from behind his back while shyly adjusting his glasses

“these are for you. to congratulate you”

weird way to phrase it but you were still gonna take the flowers. “host club tendencies?”

“so you found out?”

from a distance, you can hear the rushing footsteps from downstairs followed by a sense of purpose. “i think i was bound to” :/

you didn’t know how you felt about the current situation. you had no idea what host club was until you got here and you still don’t know what they even do. for all you knew, this could just be a gesture to get them more clients

but if his actions were genuine… you wouldn’t mind seeing him again

“i have to start learning muscles for our next exam. heard it was one of the hardest ones. i’m not sure if you have more studying tricks up your sleeve?”

“i might.” a cocking little grin now appearing on his face

“good. same place at the library tomorrow then. and this time? try not to bring your dedicated fans wherever you go”

so these study sessions continued. you guys occasionally had to change spots - from cafe to an empty bio lab - if the mob ever saw a single hair follicle that might be his

but each time, wonwoo brought something more just himself. one day it would be coffee, others days it would be food. things to keep you motivated.

for a korean lit major, he was taking a lot of time out of his day to help you, being attentive to all the strategies that help you study and such

possibly making your assumption from months back, true.

by the time finals rolled around, aside from the spursts of review here and there, study sessions became more casual. you didn’t feel the need to overwork our brain since you already knew all the information (something you actually learned from wonwoo himself)

possibly the last meeting you’d have with him was similar to your first: just you two together but him playing on his phone. and yet before the night ended

“i have a proposal.”

“i’m not giving you money for your dumb club.” bold of him to assume you would-

“no but i really appreciate the thought :)

why don’t we turn these study sessions into… study dates instead?”

your assumption after 6 months later: finally confirmed

“but that’s only IF you ace your finals.”

well let’s just say at the very end, you had a successful first semester and are now one step closer towards being the surgeon of your dreams.

plus, you even landed yourself a pretty cool boyfriend in the process

let’s hope his parents put in a good word for you when you apply to med school!

#seventeen #wonwoo #caratwritersclub #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen au #wonwoo au #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen series #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader

268 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 2

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it’s own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You’re Peter’s classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you’re lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let’s try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We’re living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn’t actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @vozit @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Peter woke me up at eight AM the next morning like the little shit that he was, demanding I make him pancakes. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had the joy to experience him in the morning and he knew exactly how to antagonise me enough to make him the special pancakes he liked so much. They had become kind of a ritual whenever he stayed over at my house, which was quite often - teachers liked me enough to pair me up with one of the most sensible kids for any projects that couldn’t be done alone by yours truly on her own.

I put on my yesterday’s dress, applied moisturizer and obediently trotted behind an excitedly mumbling Peter. The kitchen was large, beautiful and delightfully empty of any resident superheroes. I’ve indirectly crossed paths with all of the tower’s residents hanging around Tony, but I’ve yet had to speak more than polite niceties to any of them.

Spying a bowl of boiled eggs and some sort of weird salad alongside half burned toast on the counter, I suddenly understood why Peter demanded his pancakes. I strictly instructed the disaster child to stay away from my cooking process and set to work with one ear listening to his ramblings and a headphone in the other.

A set of thumping footsteps appeared behind me as I was pouring the batter for the first pancake. Their owner loudly sat down next to Peter, sighing, groaning, generally making “I’m not a morning person” sounds.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” Peter’s tone was way, way too chipper.

“‘mrng,” The Sergeant grumbled. “Who’s this and why is she making pancakes?”

I turned around, spatula at the ready. “It’s me,” We’ve actually met before, but Barnes had left before I could even come over from my side of the work bench to say hello.

He nodded in acknowledgement after giving me a suspicious once-over. “One of Stark’s science children. I’m James but you can call me Bucky,” His voice sounded rough and gravely, and he clutched a coffee cup half the size of my head.

I snorted. “Science child, sure,” It wasn’t half-bad actually. I wisely choose to ignore the part of being Tony’s. No matter how hot the man was, I wasn’t anybody’s but my own, thank you very much. “Go get the bananas, Nutella and maple syrup, fellow science child.”

Peter scrambled to follow instructions as I plated the pancakes and cut the bananas into neat little rings to fill the sweet circles with. A tablespoon of Nutella, half a sliced banana, wrap, garnish with powdered sugar and pour maple syrup generously on top. I really didn’t see how this could be difficult but any and all attempts to teach Peter how to recreate my masterpiece always ended up in an absolute mess. I turned around to ask Bucky if he wanted any. The look of a man starved answered all my questions.

“You’re a goddess,” Peter moaned around his mouthful, nose smudged white with the powdered sugar.

“Gross, chew first then talk, you neanderthal,” I scoffed, prepping more batter for the second batch of pancakes. I wasn’t sure if everybody would show up but figured it would be rude to exclude them from the sheer magnificence that were my pancakes. I was just that good.

The music in my ear drowned most of Peter’s disgusting chewing noises, thankfully. My second batch vanished into thin air, inhaled by the two males like the garbage disposals that they were. Peter, in particular, ate an alarming quantity of food and I was surprised how he managed to stay so skinny. His daily eating schedule resembled the Hobbits.

More people appeared, this time acting less surprised regarding me standing at the stove. Hawkeye, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch and her brother, all of them wandered in wearing sleep attire with various amusing prints. Thankfully, they mostly kept quiet or chatted with Peter - I would have definitely grumbled if someone tried to talk to me. As far as my body was concerned it was still the middle of the night.

“PANCAKES,” A booming voice announced and I shuddered at the sheer intensity and devotion contained in that one word. Thor.

“Please use your indoor voice,” I snapped reflectively. My brain caught up with what I just did so I hastily backtracked. “Sorry, I’m a bitch in the mornings.”

The blonde man chuckled, coming over to poke his nose into my flurry of pour-flip-fill sequence. Then, with all the grace and manners of a prince, he dipped one (1) large finger into the jar of Nutella and wandered off with it stuck in his mouth. With this turn of events the Nutella was bound to run out sooner than expected.

I turned around, annoyed confusion in plain sight. “The fuck?.. That’s gross, don’t do that,” Finding his brother (adopted!) sitting next to Thor, wearing a haughty smirk, finger still in his mouth. So Loki turned into his brother to steal Nutella from a jar. I sighed. Nobody even batted an eye. “Your alien germs are in there now, double ew.”

“Alien germs? Where?” Bruce entered the kitchen with a tablet under his arm, wearing Hulk themed pajamas, Captain America in tow. I was honestly on the verge of breaking down into hysterical laughter. Domestic Avengers wasn’t something I’d expected to see or experience, ever, much less be a part of. It took a moment for me to remind myself that they were people, too, and each of them was entitled to their own quirks.

“America, egg-splain,” Peter muttered under his breath, giggling. “Loki stuck his hand in the Nutella jar,” He pointed at said jar. “She got grumpy,” Peter pointed at me. “Don’t make her grumpy, please, I want more pancakes,” And turned his pleading puppy eyes in my direction again.

“This is indentured servitude,” I pointed my spatula at the little shit. “You just had, like, ten.” But I made more batter nonetheless. I must admit it was kind of cool, seeing the earth’s mightiest defenders so relaxed. And Pete being happy, that was just… The best. I don’t know how to explain it. His eternal cheerfulness was highly contagious.

Chuckles filled up the room, the adults chatting and bickering amongst themselves while they patiently waited for their own breakfast.

“Do you need some help?” Bruce approached me after stopping to fetch himself a cup of tea. It smelled strongly of tangy herbs and honey.

“I need more Nutella and bananas,” I admitted, surveying the sheer amount of people I had to feed. I didn’t doubt the Captain and two Asgardians had an appetite to match Peter’s which meant a literal extra set of condiments was required. Thankfully, Bruce fetched them for me, coming to a stop next to me. “Anything else?”

“You know, I tried making these with Peter and he just ended up with powdered sugar and chocolate all over himself,” I mused, noting the way Banner was carefully observing the assembly of a pancake. “You think Doctor seven-phds can manage to add a few toppings to a pancake without causing a disaster?“

Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, bumping me with his hip. "I’m no Clint Barton when it comes to cooking but at least I don’t burn my toast like Steve,” True to his word, his hands made swift motions of filling, wrapping and plating each individual pancake. They were almost as good as mine albeit more messy. I had lots of practice though. We finished off a batch in companionable silence, sounds of the team and my music playing in the background.

I didn’t notice when I started swaying to the rhythm, catching a confused look from Bruce. I brushed back my hair, revealing a wireless headphone in my ear and he chuckled in understanding. “What are you listening to?”

“Right now? Kings of Leon,” I said, leaning towards him so he could hear the chorus “Use Somebody” currently occupying my right ear.

“I like them, too,” He said, his cheek gently touching mine. His hands slowed on the pancake, a soft hum vaguely reminding me of the song’s melody emanating from his throat. “What else do you usually listen to?”

“Mostly heavier stuff, but I have a whole separate playlist dedicated to mid-2000s bops,” I answered. “I’ve heard I’m quite old school when it comes to music.”

“Well, I am an old man, so…” Bruce grinned mischievously. “But my guilty pleasure is Lady Gaga,” He admitted with a laugh.

I laughed, too. The image of his dancing in his lab to Born This Way was too much for my brain and I hung my head, fighting giggles. Bruce bumped me with his hip again, faking a pout. “Okay, okay, that was a fucking hilarious image, you go dude,” I finally powered through my struggle to contain laughter. “My own guilty pleasure would be… Umm… Lana Del Rey, I guess.”

Bruce made a vague noise of confusion. I took a brief break from mixing the batter to dig out my second headphone, presenting it to him and switching to a song. “This is what makes us girls”. Despite the fact I have never stolen a car or had a close female friend, the nostalgia was real. “Carmen” followed after the first song and I silently thanked whatever deity that “You can be the boss” was taken out of Spotify - I don’t think I was prepared to share that kind of information with a lab partner. An older, handsome lab partner. Wait… Where did that come from?

“I like it,” He said after the song ended and my more usual stuff began playing. “It suits you, I think.”

I groaned. “Really? I think it’s edgy,” Hiding away the embarrassment, I passed him a tray of freshly baked pancakes, occupying his immediate attention.

“You’re an old soul,” He gave me a lopsided smile. I saw a very faint blush tinting his cheeks, the kind of blush that had me wondering about the meaning behind his words.

I gave an attempt at a smile in response, the left corner of my mouth barely tilting up. We talked some more about the rock music we shared in our earphones. I had a lot of 80s hair metal and 90s grunge in my playlist. Bruce was not a Curt Cobain man but enjoyed the works of his legacy, Marcy Playground.

A tan hand wormed its way between me and Bruce, snatching a handful of banana slices and disappeared just as swiftly. “Tonyyy,” Bruce groaned, picking up another banana to replace the stolen pieces.

The spatula in my hand became a weapon as I blindly aimed at the target behind my back. A loud “ow” indicated I hit it. When I turned around, Tony was clutching the side of his face, a hurt look in his eyes and cheeks stuffed full of stolen goods. I stared him square in the face, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was shirtless - the arc reactor glowed brightly in the middle of his toned chest. Fuck.

His chest was honestly what I was aiming for. I constantly kept forgetting how short he actually was. There was this one time when Tony had to put his arms around me to steady a piece of tech - he felt huge, hard and enormous around me.

“What’s that for, Princess?” He finally chewed through his food and found his voice.

“For being a Tony,” I retorted. “Stay away from my workspace and wait for your breakfast like everybody else.”

“Hey! This is my kitchen,” He whined immediately, like the adult man that he was. I nearly cried from how adorable his face became, eyebrows scrunched up. “I don’t want to wait! And why does he,” Tony’s finger accusingly pointed at Bruce, “Get the bananas?!”

“Because he’s Brucie-bear,” I stuck my nose up in the air when Bruce’s arm wrapped around my waist. “He’s my science father,” I stuck my tongue out at Tony, seeing Bruce’s triumphant smile. Banner used every opportunity to get back at Tony’s incessant sass.

The gleaming in Tony’s eyes should have alarmed me. “But he’s not your science daddy,” Tony’s flirting was accompanied by a salacious eyebrow wiggle and Peter’s screech of “OH MY GOD!"

It took me every ounce of willpower to not flush. It was one of those rare times that I was at a complete loss of words. Thinking on the spot, I gave a very meaningful look to Bruce - thankfully, he got the gist and returned an equally filthy smirk back. Tony gaped.

"Is this how they are in the lab?” The Captain’s quiet voice leaked horrified amusement.

“All.The.Time.” Peter’s resonating groan was followed by Romanoff’s laughter.

We went up to the lab after breakfast. Thankfully Tony stopped his dramatic bitching when I served him my pancakes, scarfing them down much like everybody else. So me and Pete were accompanied by one (1) happy engineer, all three of us tinkering away on a robot that we were supposed to present in our science class in a month. The focus that was required to solder was immense and our usual banter was missing, replaced by an occasional request for a specific tool or a water bottle.

It took a few hours to get the dirty job done even with Tony’s help (technically he wasn’t supposed to but neither me nor Pete had the heart to forbid him from it when the man looked so content and happy soldering away). By the time I uncurled from my spot on the bench, my back was in knots and my dress had oil stains and holes all over it. I immediately went to the nearest water bottle, finishing half of it in seconds, picking up my phone to see if I had any important messages from my mother.

None.

Just a message from Bruce.

I tapped on my phone, idly scrolling through the Instagram app, liking some pictures of people I barely knew and keeping up a general appearance of being very busy. When the ringtone started playing, it took me a whole five seconds to understand it was, in fact, coming from my phone - I certainly wouldn’t put something so… Outrageous as my main tone.

Banner had discovered the power of the internet. You Can Be The Boss played loudly, and it played from my phone and Bruce was calling me. I picked it up, turning around, fighting the incoming laughter. “Yes, Brucie?"

To say that Tony’s and Peter’s faces were scandalised was nothing. The boy’s face was such a deep shade of red, I started worrying about his blood pressure and Tony’s mouth hung open limply, like he was witnessing the second coming of Christ.

"Is Tony sufficiently traumatized?” Judging by the breathless tone of his voice, Banner was resisting a mighty laughing fit of his own.

“Oh, absolutely,” I happily chirped.

“Good, keep it up. Come to my lab before you leave,” Banner snorted and then, realising what he’d done, promptly hung up, the tell-tale beginning of a giggle fit abruptly interrupted by a dial tone.

I put the phone in my bag, gathering the rest of my things with a look somewhere between innocence and indifference. At least, I hoped it was - my mind kept jumping between the engineer’s ridiculously scandalised face and the way his mouth went slack, lips moist and soft and plush. That’s a very dangerous trail.

A very dangerous trail I couldn’t resist exploring in the solitude and privacy of my own bedroom, at home.

#bun writes #party favours #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n

176 notes · View notes

obiwanobi · 4 years

Note

In the Sith Senator au, I imagine that sheev introduces them either at a dinner party or maybe at a gala? anakin is in his robes as always and obiwan is super dressed up because he's a respectable senator thank you very much and he calls anakin darling and sweet thing and stuff like that and within an hour he has anakin wrapped around his finger

Okay, so WHY NOT BOTH? The last long post about this AU was painful, so have some “hate at first sight” and “0.2 sec for Obi-Wan to fix it and learn that banter and endearments can turn Anakin into a very charming mess”

The first time they met, Obi-Wan has just been elected Senator after working in politics on Stewjon for years, making enough important friends and empty promises to be re-elected even without showing his face on Stewjon until the next decade. It’s his first month back on Coruscant, close to Sidious after years on his own. He needs to show him that his presence here, so close to his Master, is right, and can only benefit their plans. Even when everything isn’t… great.

The committee of small planets of the mid rim is pestering him to join their sad little club of useless dustballs, he has dozens of demands of various needy mayors, dignitaries and even ministers from Stewjon to reply to, the Senate security staff are a bunch of lazy bastards who still haven’t given him his pass and badge to enter and exit the building whenever he wants to and keep pretending not to recognize him even though they force him to go through a full security check every morning, and he can’t find a decent assistant to hire.

You could say that Senator Kenobi is a bit on edge.

He really, really doesn’t need to be late to his first real, private meeting with Sidious, especially because his only excuse is ‘I forgot how busy traffic was on Coruscant in the morning, don’t blame me I’m used to the countryside and seeing more sheep than ships on my way to work”. That would probably not go too well.

Looking at his chrono every twenty seconds, he doesn’t pay enough attention to where he’s going and doesn’t notice the man turning at a corner on his side, running fast enough to come crashing against him without having the chance to do anything about it.

One second, a sharp cry, a flurry of dark robes and a cup of tea flying, and they’re both on the ground.

Obi-Wan isn’t pleased. You could say he’s even a bit exasperated, lying on his back, a stranger’s elbow digging in his stomach. And then he turns his head to see who’s stupid enough to run in the Senate’s corridors on a Monday morning and almost curses out loud when he recognises Jedi robes and a stupid Padawan’s braid.

It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s used to suppressing his Force-presence so no one can feel him and he’s not going to make a scene to attract more attention. He’s going to inhale and exhale slowly, accept the deepest of apologies from the stupid Jedi with a benevolent smile, repress his need to do something harsh, and be on his way.

But then the Padawan groans, rubs his head and asks reproachfully why Obi-Wan didn’t watch where he was going.

It’s eight am, half of his (expensive and only sold on Stewjon) tea on the floor, and Obi-Wan already wants to strangle a Jedi.

So, there is a shouting match.

Words like “pathetic life form” and “karking useless politician” are thrown, and it takes almost half a minute for Obi-Wan to realise that he’s arguing with a dumb teenager and that they’re still on the floor, half on top of each other. He, very politely, asks the Padawan to get the kriff up, doesn’t take the time to even look at the remains of his cup of tea after salvaging his wet datapad from the puddle on the ground, and leaves with one last silent death glare.

“You’re not even going to clean that?” the Padawan yells in his back, sounding revolted.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. What are droids for these days?

“You’re late,” Palpatine says flatly the instant the door of his office closes behind Obi-Wan. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Call me Chancellor for now. I want you to meet someone and he should be here soon. He could become important, maybe even crucial for our plans.”

“Oh? Another Senator or representative to charm?”

“Even better,” Palpatine smiles. And that’s what gets Obi-Wan interested. He knows this is the reason he’s here and the reason Sidious wants him in the Senate. Obi-Wan is a smooth talker, a nice face and a warm smile all in one. Someone who, with enough time and efforts, could make anyone believes in anything.

Palpatine always said that he was made for politics.

“He could be a decisive piece in this game. It will take a lot of careful manipulation and dedication to bring him to our side and I don’t have this kind of time to waste, so you’ll do. With enough care and patience, I think he could be the most loyal and useful… support, we could have.”

“Who is he? What do you want me to say and how far am I allowed to go?”

A knock at the door interrupts them. “For now,” Palpatine says in a low voice, sitting behind his desk, joining his hands together above it, the picture of old and trusted wisdom, “I just need you to make him like you.”

That’s not going to be a problem, Obi-Wan thinks, as the doors open. He straightens up, gets ready to put on his most radiant smile and displays an inviting openness and friendliness that few can resist.

The Padawan enters.

This is going to be a problem.

“Ah! My favourite Jedi!” Sidious exclaims loud enough to be heard over the music and raising his cocktail above their heads. Anakin Skywalker smiles as he sees him, and dutifully comes closer. The Chancellor makes a point of clapping his hand twice on his shoulder once Skywalker is in front of him, and leaves it there as he introduces him to his new chief of staff. If anyone is wondering what a Padawan is doing at a Senate party that should only include political staffers and a few dignitaries, no one breaths a word of it.

It gives Obi-Wan time to gauge, assess and appraise Skywalker, his reactions, body language, and anything he can learn from a simple conversation between Sidious and him. It would be his turn to do it soon. Relieve me from the burden of having to stroke the boy’s ego regularly so I can take care of more pressing issues, his master had snarled disdainfully. Right now, he’s playing the part of the dotting and proud fatherly figure to perfection, Obi-Wan has to give him that.

Attention, approval and respect, Sidious had told me. That’s all you need to be in Skywalker’s good graces. The boy will soak every bit of kindness you can spare, as long as he considers you someone worth his own devotion.

It didn’t stop Obi-Wan from learning absolutely everything he could about him, from his lightsaber technique to his favourite food because Obi-Wan is and will always be a very thorough man who doesn’t rely on luck or unprecise sciences like basic psychology. Especially from his Master, who probably never encountered an emotion or feeling he couldn’t twist to fuel his ambition.

Admittedly, Obi-Wan doesn’t share his Master enthusiasm for charming the brat and make him fall. He’s all for turning him against the Jedi, sure, that he can get behind and happily endorse, but having to deal with a moody teenager on a regular basis for the foreseeable future? It would be painful for everyone. Especially for Obi-Wan’s nerves.

Anakin Skywalker, reckless, volatile and troublesome former slave and actual Padawan, wasn’t the type of Sith candidate Obi-Wan would have chosen. Not at all. Too many variables, too many chances to go wrong, a wild card that he would never risk.

But Sidious is adamant. Doesn’t care for any of his arguments. He wants Skywalker, and Obi-Wan has started to realise why when he learnt all about the prophecy. Stealing the Jedi Chosen One and turning him against them in a last-second betrayal was the kind of symbolic irony Sidious loved and would gloat about for years to come. And when Sidious decides that he needs something, there is no going back.

But this time, Obi-Wan has to do all the hard work himself. He calculates that getting close to Skywalker, especially after their more than tense official introduction, is going to take months, maybe even (and Obi-Wan shudders at the thought) a year. Trapped at playing nice with an overgrown child who hates being told no and likes to think he’s above the rules. For no direct and personal benefit but the approval of his own Master.

Obi-Wan really, really hates it.

But that’s not going to stop him from completing his mission perfectly, as he has always done.

“I’m glad to see you, Chancellor,” Skywalker says softly, his quiet tone already at odd with what Obi-Wan expected. He grew taller than the last he saw him, and Obi-Wan hates it. His braid is a bit longer and his robes are a shade darker than a few months ago. Something passes in his eyes when the Padawan notices Obi-Wan’s presence next to the Chancellor and his head snaps up defiantly. “Senator Kenobi,” he grits out like the words pain him.

Obi-Wan needs to change this right now before Sidious deems him inapt for this mission.

He hates this a bit more.

The opportunity is given quicker than he thought when Sidious excuses himself and leaves their little group to mingle with other demanding sycophants. Obi-Wan gets stuck with Skywalker, Sidious’ chief of state who’s apparently only here for the free drinks, and Keneg, the senator of… Corulag? Barl’leth? One of those rich Core planets that hate anyone who isn’t them but need to be kept around for their credits, who always seems to suck years of his life every time Obi-Wan is forced to speak to him. It takes thirty seconds for all of them to grow bored of Keneg incessant complaints about how the lower levels of his planet are “ruining its reputation” and that the problem resides in their too lenient immigration policy, especially concerning poor and uneducated races.

Skywalker’s face is a journey. At least twelve different emotions play through his eyes, the twists of his mouth and raised eyebrows like a theatre actor in a dramatic scene at each careless word coming out of the Senator’s mouth, and Obi-Wan wonders if anyone has ever told him that Jedi are supposed to be masters of their own emotions first and foremost. Especially around politicians.

But it doesn’t matter right now, because that’s the opening he was waiting for.

“Excuse me Senator Keneg,” He cuts him off politely before another endless tirade. “I’m afraid I have to go, I see the Senator of Botor and I’ve been trying to talk to him for months. Surely you understand. Padawan Skywalker, may I ask for your assistance? We could use some Jedi wisdom in our debate, if you don’t mind.”

Skywalker looks torn between being relieved to be offered an out from an awful conversation, but also have no desire to spend more time with Obi-Wan.

“Sure,” he ends up mumbling, apparently judging that he was the lesser of two evils.

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan doesn’t pay any attention to the betrayed look Sidious’ chief of state sends him after being left alone with Keneg.

“So,” Skywalker says, resigned, following Obi-Wan who’s making a beeline for the bar. “Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The senator of Botor? And what’s your deal with him?”

“I don’t even know what he looks like,” Obi-Wan replies, trying to ignore the casual tone Skywalker shouldn’t take with a Senator, even one he dislikes.

“What? Then why did you ask me to come with you?”

“Aren’t you relieved that I saved you from dreadful hours of xenophobic discussions about how poor people should be banned from showing their face in public because it doesn’t please Senator Keneg?”

“You didn’t save me,” Skywalker grimaces, but still seats beside him. “Is it… Is it always like that? I mean, I know Core worlds politicians can be a little…”

Obi-Wan weighs his options, and decides that Skywalker would probably appreciate truth more than carefully chosen words and subtle hypocrisy. Pretending to be the last nice man in politics is out of the question with the way they met, so Obi-Wan opts for sincerity.

To a degree.

“Snobbish? Disconnected from reality? Shameless bastards with no souls?” Obi-Wan says while signalling the bartender for Trandoshan ale and a cocktail.

“Well, yes.”

“Welcome to politics.”

Skywalker opens his mouth like he’s going to protest. He puts his hands in his sleeves, probably hoping to pass for a wise Jedi Master, but his pouty lips and frowned eyebrows make him look like a sulking youngling. “You’re part of it, you know. You can talk about it like you’re not one of them, but I remember you insulting me and leaving without caring about your tea and cup all over the floor.”

What a brat.

“My tea- My dear, do I have to remind you that you barreled into me at full stupid and made me spill my tea everywhere? Some Senators would have made a diplomatic incident out of it,” he huffs, a bit more irritable than he wanted to.

“You said I was a brainless child!”

“Because you ar—” Their drinks arrive at that moment, and it gives Obi-Wan precious seconds to compose himself.

This isn’t how he’s supposed to play it. He didn’t expect Skywalker to be this whiny and petulant, despite Sidious’ warning, and was planning on letting him think he was the one in control of the situation. He’s supposed to be a Jedi for Force sake, not someone who can’t control their tongue and get into pointless fights with politicians!

No, no. Grin and bear it. Obi-Wan should recall the last remnant of Jedi philosophy still in him.

“Padawan Skywalker, I’m sorry if my words offended you,” Obi-Wan says with the voice he normally uses for debates where he wants to appear as the most sincere and reasonable party. He holds a glass of ale to Skywalker, as a peace offering. “I admit I wasn’t in the most pleasant of disposition at that time, and I may have been harsher than I realised. I hope you can forgive me.”

This seems to mollify Skywalker a bit. He doesn’t look like he’s going to forget it, but does take the offered glass. “At least the Chancellor is different,” he sighs and Obi-Wan represses the urge to burst into laughter.

Oh, Skywalker is truly the most naïve boy around. Perhaps twisting his mind will turn out to be fun.

“Wait,” Obi-Wan exclaims suddenly as the Padawan holds the glass to his lips, “are you even old enough to drink?”

“Oh come on, I’m 19! I can handle a beer and I’m a Jedi, don’t forget,” he brags, like being Force-sensitive changes anything about his (probably low) alcohol tolerance. To be fair, a regular politician wouldn’t know anything about what the Force could and couldn’t do. Skywalker’s probably relying on lack of awareness about the magic and mysterious abilities of the Jedi to get away with it. It’s almost endearing.

“I don’t know, Padawan, you did look like an adorable sulking youngling just a minute ago.”

“Ador- I’m not adorable!” He yelps as his cheeks turn into an interesting shade of pink.

“But you don’t deny the youngling comment,” Obi-Wan teases good-naturedly between two sips of his cocktail. He can’t help it: It is way more intriguing to follow the colours on his face spreading to his neck than being on the receiving end of his frowns and accusing words.

Unduly flustered for such an innocent comment, Skywalker stutters a few syllables, huffs, and narrows his eyes at his glass, Obi-Wan’s playful smile, and his glass again. He downs the whole thing with his head thrown back before Obi-Wan can say anything, surprised by the sudden motion and too busy watching his throat moving until the empty glass is back on the table with a resounding clank. Still wiping his mouth, he calls the bartender and asks for another. Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the ‘don’t you dare stop me’ glare.

This isn’t how he imagined befriending him, but Skywalker is still seating next to him and getting into a rant about how he’s a capable man, thank you very much, and yesterday his Master even said so, well, not in these words, but he’s not a youngling, and absolutely not adorable, he’s a warrior, a protector, but he doesn’t suppose a politician can understand, and if Obi-Wan wants to know, his sabre technique is exceptional, really, it is!

His whole speech is supported by hands flying around to illustrate his words and mouthfuls of ale, because he is a man and not a kid, remember that, Senator Kenobi. It doesn’t prevent him from flushing a bit deeper and spluttering even more when Obi-Wan, listening attentively with a smile on his face, throws an indulgent of course you are, darling.

Skywalker turns his face away from him, desperate to hide his embarrassment, and orders another ale.

Adorable.

Obi-Wan can work with that.

Hours later, once Skywalker is happily sloshed and dangerously leaning toward crashing against his shoulder, Obi-Wan calls him a hover cab.

“Thanks, Senator Kenobi!” Skywalker exclaims as he climbs into the cab, like Obi-Wan is now his favourite person to be around. His cheerful and warm demeanour has stopped being surprising after his second ale. “You’re not as awful as I thought!”

Obi-Wan can’t help it, he laughs, truly laughs at that. It’s probably the most sincere compliment he’s gotten since he arrived at the Senate. “I’m glad you consider me a slightly better man than Senator Keneg,” he says, leaning forward toward Skywalker, hands on the cab.

Skywaker grins and raises an eyebrow at him. “And more handsome too!”

For once, it’s Obi-Wan who must look baffled. Despite his careful planning, all his diverse estimations and assessments about the different ways he could charm Skywalker, he didn’t consider actually seducing him. That’s… a whole new point of view.

Interrupting his thoughts, Skywalker yawns and starts hugging his robe around himself, smiling contently like he’s in the best place in the galaxy, barely trying to blink away sleep from his eyes. Adorable.

On an impulse, Obi-Wan leans closer to him and tugs on his braid. The reaction is worth it: Skywalker makes a small surprised noise, eyes suddenly wide, and the slight flush on his cheeks worsen in an instant.

Obi-Wan almost considers touching his face, just to see how warm his skin is. And maybe even brushing his parted lips with his thumb, just to see how warm it can still get.

But Obi-Wan feels merciful.

For tonight.

“Sleep well, Padawan,” he purrs, winding the thin braid around his finger one last time. Skywalker looks like he’s going to melt.

Obi-Wan can work with that too.

Two months later, Sidious tells him that he’s going to be the victim of an assassination attempt right before the Military Act vote. It would be acceptable for the Chancellor to be concerned about the protection and security of all Senators, of course, so he will push for Jedi protection and is certain to convince the Council to send one particular Padawan as a bodyguard.

Obi-Wan doesn’t hate the idea.

#these two asks were in my inbox for like... 2 months #I'm very slow but I don't forget!#sith senator kenobi au #anon #asks #obikin

161 notes · View notes

izzisanauthor · 3 years

Text

A Murderer's Cell

A Prodigal Son fanfic by IzzIsAnAuthor (izzygrace07)

References to memories discussed in 2x03 - "Alma Mater"

----------

Malcolm's fist pounds against the door as he hyperventilates, body trembling with fear. The closet walls suffocate him without moving an inch. It's such a familiar feeling, the exact one he felt during his time trapped in the janitor's closet at Remington Academy. His rational and irrational thoughts fight for dominance in his head, and right now, the nonsensical ones are winning and fill his mind with death.

It's not like anyone would hear his knocking; it's nearly midnight, and the precinct is empty. The murder case he is investigating is similar to one that went cold thirteen years prior, and he needed to grab those files and run them by their current information. Malcolm hadn't thought much of it when he walked into the closet of old case files and rummaged through a few boxes. He didn't know that the door would close on him, shrouding him in darkness.

Malcolm had frozen immediately, unable to comprehend the situation before him. When reaching blindly for the doorknob, he had been shocked to discover that the knob was missing, leaving only the rose behind. Pushing on the door did nothing, and he didn't have the space he would need to kick it open. With nobody left in the building and the doorknob missing, Malcolm was experiencing his biggest fear first-handed: alone in the darkness, trapped in a box with nobody around to hear his cries for help.

The Remington Incident hadn't been this bad. At the very least, there was minute light that helped him see. Yes, he was dangerously dehydrated, starving, and soaked in his sweat, tears, and urine, but Nicky had been merciful enough to let him see. Now, Malcolm can't help but imagine the same scenario; only now, he'd have to survive those three days with his vision inhibited. Dying in darkness, in pain and disgusted with himself, and with nobody around to find him for days was undoubtedly terrifying.

Eventually, Malcolm's sobs turn into silent tears. He leans his body against the door and continues to knock, not nearly as forceful as before, while his free hand trembles wildly at his side. The resignation takes over much faster than the last time he was stuck like this, taking only a few minutes instead of the first six hours of his Remington captivity. This feeling must be what defeatism is, the feeling of complete resignation. He doesn't experience this very often, only ever falling into it when a killer manages to elude him, manipulating the profile and taunting him as more victims get claimed. During those times, he had Gil, Ainsley, or even Dani talk him through it, reassuring him that everything would turn out fine, that profiling isn't an exact science; Malcolm isn't to blame.

Except he is, so his abusive mind tells him, and this is his punishment. He's let so many lives slip through his fingers because he wasn't good enough, fast enough, or intelligent enough to find the monsters responsible. If he had only said the right thing or noticed the essential details a little sooner, he wouldn't have to watch parents lose their children or kids become orphans. He's killed more people than the Surgeon, the man who he promised never to become. After his father's arrest, Malcolm refused to let himself go down the same path, dedicating his life to saving lives instead of taking them. With how much he's failed, he deserves to wither away in isolation, to rot in this cell, like the murderer he is.

Malcolm takes a couple of steps back and leans against the shelves of case files, sliding down to the floor. Every breath is shaky and laborious. He knows that the room walls are secure in the back of his mind, and he has plenty of oxygen. The precinct would open tomorrow, someone would come into the closet to look for files, and Malcolm would be free from his prison. It's not wishful thinking; it's a fact. Yet, at this moment, all he can see is the ceiling collapsing above him, ready to crush his body under the rubble. His breathing feels too heavy, wasting away his air supply. Worst of all, he imagines the precinct opening tomorrow and having plenty of people present, yet nobody notices that he's missing. Even if they did, it's not like anyone would care enough to look. He could bang on this door for hours and catch their attention; they might even figure out that he's in there. They could leave him locked in the closet like Nicky did, knowing fully well that he's suffering behind the door.

When the door opens and the room floods with light, Malcolm doesn't notice. Tears blur his vision, and all he can hear is his own hyperventilating. His fingernails dig into his wrist, desperate to stop his hand from shaking. Somewhere in the distance, he can make out words, but they're impossible to comprehend.

"Bright? Kid, what happened to you?" The voice is familiar, and Malcolm can almost put a name to its owner. "It's okay, Kid. You're okay. Come on, let's get you in the open. Malcolm, can you hear me?"

His first name is what shocks him back into reality. Nobody at the precinct calls him Malcolm except for two people, and only one of those two calls him Kid.

Malcolm blinks away the tears as much as he can, the blur fading from his sight. It isn't easy to see the man before him, the light from the hall making silhouettes out of his features. However, he can see the outline of facial scruff and well-maintained hair, and the recognition finally sets in.

"Gil," Malcolm breathes. A hand takes his own and gently pulls him to his feet. He staggers, his head spinning from the lightheadedness, and nearly falls over. When the throbbing of his head calms, he nods to show he's okay. Gil places a hand on the back of Malcolm's neck, guiding him out of the closet and into the light of the precinct.

He's led to a random desk nearby, practically throwing himself into the chair. The clean air that comes with the open space is heavenly, as if it is a gift from God himself. Gil grabs another chair and pulls it over to Malcolm, sitting across from him.

"So," Gil starts, "are you gonna tell me what happened, Bright?"

"There's not much to say," Malcolm mumbles, a slight waver to his voice. "I walked in the closet, and the door closed on me. That's it."

Gil sighs. "That's not what I mean."

When they found Malcolm in that closet at Remington, the shame erased any sense of relief. New York society already thinks that the Whitley family is dangerous, and that's just with Doctor Whitley's reputation hanging over his head. Malcolm should have known what Nicky would do, just like he should have known what his father was doing to those women. There are so many horrific things that Malcolm could have prevented, but he didn't because he wasn't good enough.

So, when Malcolm was found three days after Nicky trapped him, he told the doctors and police officers that the door shut on him. It was just a freak accident, and nobody was to blame but himself. With that story, nobody thinks of him as a failure or a weak man.

"...Do you remember when they found me at Remington?" Malcolm asks hesitantly.

Gil nods, his eyebrows furrowing. "You could have died in there," he laments. "I can't believe it took the police three days to find you. It was your damn school! We should have looked there first."

The guilt weighs heavy on Malcolm's shoulders. His disappearance worried so many people, and even now, it's obvious how blameworthy Gil feels about the whole thing. But it's not Gil's job to know that kind of information; that's what Malcolm is supposed to do.

He falls into silence upon hearing Gil's words. The worst thing he can do for Gil is to tell him the truth behind the incident.

"I knew you were claustrophobic," Gil continues, "but I didn't think it was that bad. I haven't seen you cry like that in a long time, Kid."

Malcolm lets out a soft chuckle and directs his gaze to the ground, wiping his palms against his slacks. "That was pretty embarrassing."

He jumps when Gil's hand rests on his knee, squeezing comfortingly. Malcolm glances up and finds Gil watching him with protective eyes. It nearly makes him shrink in his seat, overwhelmed by the sudden change in demeanour.

"Bright, you were traumatised," Gil states. "You were on your death bed. If that happened to me and I had been the one stuck in there, I would have freaked, too."

Malcolm gives a slight nod. He doesn't mean to, but he lets Gil's words go through one ear and out the other. They've been said before by anyone who has ever had the displeasure of seeing him in this state. It's bittersweet to have their sympathy when they have no idea why he's terrified.

"...Nicky Covington." He doesn't hear himself say the name, but he must have, seeing Gil's confused reaction.

"What about him?"

The trembling of Malcolm's hand worsens with the question, and he slams his stable hand over it, squeezing his wrist. Gil grabs both hands and pulls them apart, holding onto them both. It gives Malcolm a sense of security, keeping his mind down on Earth.

"It's okay," Gil says tenderly. "You can tell me, Malcolm." The earnestness in his words makes Malcolm's heart skip a beat. All these years, he's kept the truth behind the Remington incident quiet, choosing to exact revenge on Nicky in such a psychopathtic manner. He should have told Gil the truth back then; Gil would have been there to help him through the shock. He would have gotten Nicky put behind bars, unable to hurt another man.

Instead, he acted as his father would have and tried to kill him. Now, he's tired of having that skeleton in his closet.

"Nicky Covington, he..." Malcolm clears his throat. "The door didn't close on me. He locked me in there when he found out about my father." He looks down shamefully, refusing to meet Gil's eyes. "I lied to the police about the whole thing."

The silence is deafening and sends Malcolm's heart racing. He can feel his pulse clogging his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The usual berating voices he hears are abnormally quiet, waiting anxiously for Gil's reply.

"I know."

Malcolm blinks a few times and intelligently replies, "...What?"

"Kid, did you think I didn't investigate at Remington after they found you?" Gil says incredulously, shaking his head. "The janitor was bribed by the Covington family to lie about the locks. They didn't automatically lock like he said they did; an outside force would have to do it. They paid off the courts to keep quiet, of course, but at the very least, I got a good idea of what happened." He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over Malcolm's hands. "You know you're not The Surgeon, right?"

Malcolm nods halfheartedly. "I know. I do, really, but... Those women--"

Out of his peripheral, he sees Gil lean forward, trying to catch his eye. "You were a kid, Bright. No kid wants to believe their dad is a bad guy. It wasn't your job to catch him; it was ours, and we did."

When Malcolm opens his mouth to argue, Gil sticks up a finger, silencing him. "As a consultant for Major Crimes, you're bound to see people die. It's just a fact. But when you see people die, Malcolm, you want to catch the killer and lock them away. That's what makes you different from Martin Whitley; you do your job to protect people from criminals like him."

Malcolm feels a smile forming on his face. He squeezes Gil's hands. "Thanks, Gil."

Gil stands up, pulling Malcolm up with him. "It's late. We've got a case to work on tomorrow, so get some sleep, alright?"

"Never," Malcolm says, beaming. He may not believe Gil's words to the fullest, but at the very least, he can try to accept them: he isn't the Surgeon. He's Malcolm Bright, and he isn't to blame for what happened to him.

#prodigal son #my writing #fanfiction #claustrophobia #alma mater #trapped in a closet #near death tw #phobia tw #original post on archiveofourown

10 notes · View notes