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listlesswhistle · 1 year

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So, I made a thing. As I mentioned, I’ve been having a lot of fun making up my own rain world stuff, y’know, like an entire custom region. Well, you may have noticed that the bonus pictures of my notes included information on a couple things that didn’t show up in the forest. Namely, my iterator oc, One Thousand Silent Eyes.

Well, I’ve been possessed by the need to write a short ficlet about them discovering what happened to the canon iterators through finding broadcasts as they attempt to reestablish their long range communications.

I’ve discussed Silent Eyes in more detail over on @nerdydowntherabbithole‘s blog, and I don’t won’t to go over everything about them again, so here’s the main thing you need to know before reading: Silent Eyes operates as a sort of hivemind. They have multiple different bodies, each with their own unique copy of Silent Eyes, but they think and act as a single entity when together. This does become relevant occasionally in this ficlet, most often when they switch between “themself” and “themselves,” depending on whichever is appropriate. They will also occasionally reference actions performed by different bodies happening at the same or similar time, as they see themselves as being in both of those bodies at once.

With that clarified, the story can be found below the read more. (Please be gentle, I’ve literally never written a fic before)

They let out a thoughtful chirp from their speakers as they hovered up to the antenna of the decrepit relay station; a habit they’d picked up from time spent around their citizens. On instinct, they went to store the information in their general memory banks, only to stutter in their flight as they failed to connect.

They were... still getting used to that. Silent Eyes knew that these long distance missions were necessary for reestablishing communication with the other clusters, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to be cut off from so much of themselves.

At least the sensation eased up somewhat when they hunkered down in the MMSP to wait out the rain. Some of their citizens had come along for the ride, even after the extended nature of this outing was explained to them. Truthfully, they were grateful for the company. Tending to the needs of the adventurous group of slugcats served as a much appreciated distraction from the concerns that plagued them lately.

And ah, there was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? The thing that they’d wanted to pass off to the rest of themselves while they focused on documenting what material components they’d need to fabricate in order to get this ancient transmitter back up and running: the broadcasts. They’d been found stored on the station’s barely functional servers and the contents were... distressing.

They weren’t stupid; they’d heard the rumors. Those were all on public chatrooms, after all, so they had made it much further out than any encrypted private conversations. But Eyes had treated them with a hopeful skepticism. They hadn’t know Unparalleled Innocence very well, and the rumors were just that: rumors. They’d helped iterators handle cases of rot before, they were sure Five Pebbles could handle himself. And losing contact with Looks To The Moon doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad happened to her. Everyone’s communications were breaking down. Heck, they’d had to repair their own communication arrays before they could even talk to the iterators right next to them! Their neighboring cluster was most likely perfectly fine. They probably just needed a few new antennas, a couple fresh dishes, a good rewiring and bam! Problem solved.

Except, well... these old messages paint a slightly different picture.

It’s probably nothing! They’re probably just overthinking things, making false assumptions because they’re working with much less information than they’re used to. This will all make much more sense when they get this relay back to working order, so they can take a new look at this data with all of their processing power at their disposal. The ARU that they’re piloting wasn’t exactly built for complex thinking, after all, with its internals mostly full of sensors and data storage. That’s why ARUs are always accompanied by an MMSP; its large computing system dedicated to housing Silent Eyes picks up the slack for its smaller cousins.

They’re just maybe, slightly freaking out because even with the additional processing power of the MMSP parked right outside, the messages are still setting off all kinds of alarm bells in their brain. Contents aside, just the fact that they’re seeing these messages at all is frankly concerning.

Silent Eyes has become intimately familiar with the inner workings of an iterator’s communication arrays. They know, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that incoming messages are not meant to bounce like this. The different systems for incoming and outgoing information are completely separate, only connected in that they are both part of communications. The fact that they found the messages here, in a relay station almost halfway between the two clusters, is indicative of a catastrophic malfunction on Looks To The Moon’s end. Her systems would’ve had to be physically rewired for them to broadcast a message in its entirety to a random recipient immediately upon receiving it, rather than download its contents for Moon to read. It’s honestly a miracle that the header and group name were the only things lost in the process.

It would be a different story for a public communiqué sent to a group discussion- long range broadcasts are sent along multiple relays, so that there are redundancies in case one breaks down- but these were clearly meant to be direct communications between iterators in the same cluster, with their names listed directly beneath the missing group: “No Significant Harassment, Big Sis Moon.” It should’ve been impossible, and yet here it is, scanned directly into Silent Eyes’ internal storage.

As for the messages themselves... there’s not much to be said. Two short chatlogs between users “No Significant Harassment” and “Big Sis Moon.” NSH is the only one to speak. He is unsure if his messages will reach Moon, citing an unknown amount of damage to her systems. Five Pebbles appears to be uncooperative, and NSH seems to be planning something. All in all, it sounds like a grim situation.

But, well, it’s only two messages! Maybe NSH’s plan worked, and Moon’s communication arrays stopped sending messages here! Or, maybe they can find more messages once they restore power to the upper floor! Oh, and what if-

Plink! Silent Eyes jolted at the sound of something hitting the base of their wings. Oh, the rain is coming. It seems they weren’t doing a very good job of focusing on repairs.

They spur themselves into motion, abandoning the various tasks around the station that they’d been idling at for the last half an hour. It seems they’ll have to wait until the next cycle before they can reconnect with the rest of themselves.

As they settle themselves down to charge in the vast hanger of the MMSP, and their large, armored form prepares to weather the rain, Silent Eyes takes comfort in the fact that all of their citizens appear to be fed and accounted for. They flutter their wings in amusement as the slugcats begin to bully them into the quickly forming cuddle pile on the floor, adjusting themself slightly to support the one that’s already fallen asleep on their back. They don’t appear bothered in the slightest by the rigid metal form of the ARUs, seeming perfectly content with the fact that all four of them together provide a comfortable amount of heat.

Surrounded on all sides by warm bodies, with the sounds of purring echoing off the walls of their hanger, Eyes feels their fans start to slow as the worry that had been eating at them finally begins to abate.

The messages are concerning, and Eyes is still concerned at the apparent state of their fellow iterators, but they will not let their fear dismantle them. With a clearer mind and a new objective, One Thousand Silent Eyes finds themselves wishing they could tell NSH the same thing he tried to tell Looks To The Moon: “Hang in there. I’m coming to help.”

#rain world #iterator oc #One Thousand Silent Eyes #My writing #I have no idea if this is actually good #I tried my best ok #i THINK i got everything into the proper tense #im so obsessed with Silent Eyes you have no idea #i was just POSSESSED to write this

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zurajanaizurakoda · 9 months

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Political Lessons are Only Important if you can Hold Your Listener's Attention.

By the time I get the invite for another AO3 account, I think the whole Ginzura thing is going to pass over. This was originally a later part in a more angsty story, but it started getting in entirely the wrong tone and it really needs to separate. Katsura is playing the straight man (Not literally straight, haha) for most of the fic, so it may seem a little a little out of character. This takes place after The Very Final, and has a lot of feelings I have about the couple. Particularly Gin starting the Zura thing as a crush. Feedback and likes would be most appreciated, since I'm not putting these anywhere else right now.

Political Lessons are Only Important if you can Hold Your Listener's Attention.

Explicit. Mild angst, mostly sex, multiple orgasms, failed attempts to get Gintoki to understand anything about politics. Attempted humor. Very bottom Katsura, mentioned use of toys.

It had been many years since they had been reunited, and a few years since they’d had time as just Zura and Gin-san. So much had changed once again that it was hard to know where to pick up, but when a little bird told him that the recently deceased Prime Minister Had gotten an apartment in Kabukicho, he figured it was time for a long overdue meeting. As usual, he came in through the window.

“You’re later than expected, Gintoki. I was beginning to think I’d have to come and make a formal request for services.” Katsura remarked without looking up. He was unpacking boxes calmly and precisely, as was his nature. He set down his current box and gave Gintoki his attention.

“It’s not like you broadcasted you were available. I came when I heard. You’ve been a busy man, Mr. Prime Minister, it’s hard to get a hold of you. You probably had butlers for your butlers. You probably had a separate secretary to handle your prostate. Do the widows go for men in suits?”

Katsura was silent for a minute. “When you have servants, it’s harder to hide your toys. I missed living alone.”

“Toys, eh?” Gintoki asked. “Wait, toys? Like Gin-san? You’ve still got old Gin-san?”

“Why would I get rid of Gin-san? Gin-san is my favorite.” Katsura replied with no hint of embarrassment. The Gin-san in question was a blue vibrator that Gintoki had personally chosen, the one he had declared closest to his own dick. “What about you? Find any good whorehouses out in the sticks?”

Gintoki rubbed the back of his head. “You know I didn’t. I’m sure your Gin-san’s been having a better time than this Gin-san has. I’d like to see what your Gin-san’s been seeing.”

Katsura sighed, leaning back against the counter. “You could see what Gin-san sees any time you want. You just haven’t been showing up. I was beginning to think you’d reneged on our gentleman’s agreement.”

“No, it’s nothing like that, I just…” he swallowed. “This Gin-san didn’t know what to say. It’s been a while, Zura. How are you doing? Now that the world’s… not ending.”

“I’m doing well.” Katsura replied simply.

“But, are you really?”

“What reason do you have to believe otherwise?”

“Well, for start, you were assassinated.” He leaned in. “Seriously, don’t ever pull shit like that again. When I saw the news… Shit, Zura, you know, of all the people in the world who could seriously take you out, that bastard Takasugi…”

“It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead.”

Gintoki reached over and grabbed his chin. “I’ll speak how I want. Did he hurt you? Did he really pull a blade on you?”

“He asked about you.” Katsura replied, pulling away from the loose grip. “It seems he knew something was amiss between us. I think he was trying to wish us happiness. Our relationship was complicated, Gintoki. You weren’t the only one who knew him all his life.”

“And then, in the elevator, when you fell…” he continued. “I know your skull’s too thick to die from a fall like that, but seeing you…”

“It seems all you do is worry about me, Gintoki.”

Gintoki watched him. “I was going to bury Takasugi’s pipe out at school. I think he would have wanted that.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I assume you’ll be buried at your family plot.”

“And where will you be buried, Gintoki?”

“I haven’t decided. Flush me down the toilet.” he grumbled. “But listen, are you okay?”

“You keep asking that.”

“Because I worry. We haven’t checked in on each other in a while. A lot of shit went down.”

“If I recall, we were at the epicenter of making shit go down.” Katsura replied. “Did you have a real reason to visit, or did you just want to question my coping skills?”

“You cope like a master, Zura. You cope in ways I don’t understand.” he leaned in and took Katsura by the chin again. “But there was definitely a lot of shit. I know I haven’t processed it all. I doubt you have.”

Katsura pulled back. “I fulfilled my duties as a disciple of Shouyou. I took down the bakufu. I wrote a fucking constitution while you were gone, Gintoki. Stop treating me like I’m still that useless kid lying on the ground waiting for you to rescue me.”

“Shit, Zura-”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura!”

“You only do that when you’re upset.”

“I’m upset because you won’t let up on my fucking ass!”

Gintoki slammed a hand on the counter. “First off, don’t say ‘fucking’ and ‘ass’ in the same sentence. You know how long it’s been. And second, damn it,” he faltered. “It’s just, with everything, you…”

Katsura crossed his arms. “Fucking ass. Fuck me in the ass.”

“Stop that.”

“There’s a secret meaning there if you look hard.” Katsura replied archly. “I’m implying you should fuck me in the ass.”

“What the fuck, Zura.”

“I think even you can get this one if you try, Gintoki. Think hard about your dick and what you like to do with it.”

“Fine! Fine! You win, Zura. I’m fucking worried about you. I’m worried about myself. The whole fucking world collapsed twice in two years and I don’t know what to do. You fucking built a country while I was gone. I killed Takasugi. I watched Sensei die. You blew up the terminal-”

“Takasugi blew up the terminal. I just helped.”

“-Whatever. It just all happened, Zura. Everything happened. All the things ever. I don’t know how I can go back.”

“Is that the problem?” Katsura asked quietly. “Did things change between us?” he hung back against the countertop, eyes mostly obscured by his long hair.

“No! No, no, no!” Gintoki waved his hands around frantically. “I mean, unless you wanted them to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Katsura asked quietly. “Well, you know, with your growing up and saving the world, and my still being a worthless Odd Jobber, and the fact that I almost got you roped into the destruction of the planet, I thought maybe old Gin-san was more of a bad memory than anything else.”

Katsura pulled his bangs back and squinted at Gintoki with suspicion. “How’s that again?”

“I mean, what even is a Prime Minister? Were you like the Shogun? Could you order people’s heads off?”

“What?” Katsura balked.

“I mean, could you just walk back in there, say the whole assassination thing was a bust, you wanted your job back, and go order Hijikata’s head off?”

“I feel like we’re having two very different conversations here. Are you breaking up with me, or are you asking me the basics of the government you live under?”

“See?! You said breaking up! I never said jack shit about breaking up!” Gin yelled. “And how the fuck should I know how the government works?! You know how it was back in the war. Give me a sword, point me at shit that needs killing! What else did I need? You were the one that kept up in politics.”

“I had the power to order Okita to kill himself, but not to make it happen. I had the power to write a constitution. Do you know what that is, Gintoki?”

“Is it like a bushido for the country or something?” Gintoki scratched his head. “And anyway, breaking up! I never said it, you did. Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’ve spent the last several minutes trying to solicit you for sex.” Katsura reminded him. “Remember? The ass? The fucking? Can you remember that far back?”

“Don’t talk like that! It’s been like two fucking years! Jerking it out in the sticks with the bugs. Do you have any idea how blue these balls have been?”

Katsura leaned in close, taking his face in both hands. “Then maybe… and try to stay with me this time, Gintoki, maybe we should have sex.”

“We should! We totally should!” Gintoki grabbed him by the wrist, then stopped like he’d been hit with something. “Wait, wait!”

“What is it?” Katsura asked, his voice tired.

“We need to talk first! About the world, and about you, and me, and whether or not we broke up when I went looking for Sensei.”

“Perhaps we should have spoken about this when it happened.” Katsura answered with his usual serenity.

“We did! Except, we never got anywhere. We had sex a few times, and then I left.”

“I remember that, Gintoki. I got champagne for the occasion. Don’t think I didn’t know you were leaving.”

“I was… I wasn’t a good boyfriend.”

“Were you my boyfriend, Gintoki? That’s news to me.” Katsura sighed. “And I suppose I knew saving the world was important too.”

“I named your dildo! That’s not something you do with just anyone!” Gintoki protested. “But, I left. I had no idea if I was ever coming back. And…” he stopped like he was gathering courage. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I didn’t wait for you, Gintoki. I overthrew the government.”

“But you stayed with Gin-san?”

“I have a few others, but yes.” Katsura replied, averting his eyes. “If you’re asking if I was faithful to you, then yes I was. We didn’t make a formal agreement, but I’ve found that my attraction runs to very specific tastes these days.”

“I was faithful, too.” Gin said. “I didn’t even think about the weather girl.”

“I’m flattered.”

“But I guess, what I’m asking, Zura, is…” Gintoki looked seriously distraught, like he was about to ask the most important question of his lifetime. “Can we… Keep doing that?”

Katsura stared him down. “So this, all of this, all the flustered yelling and the angst, all the going around in circles, was because you wanted to ask if I could continue to be your boyfriend which I didn’t even know I already was?”

“I think so.” Gintoki looked like he wasn’t clear himself. His hands were clenching to the point of white knuckles.

“Then, yes, Gintoki. I’d very much like to be your boyfriend.” Katsura replied. “It’s honestly what I was hoping for from this conversation.”

“Then we can forget saving the world or destroying it, and you can just be my Zura? I’ll be your Gin-san? The one without batteries?”

“I would like that very much.”

Gintoki stepped forward and took him in his arms. Katsura melted into the embrace, letting his head fall into the curve of Gintoki’s shoulder.

“Just like this?” Gin said redundantly to the room.

“Like this.” Katsura agreed quietly.

“It feels wrong somehow.”

“Normal people call this a normal relationship.”

“Hell, Zura, what do I know about normal relationships? What do you know about normal relationships? Have you ever been on a date, Zura?”

“Not particularly.”

“Me neither. Not a real one. Can I date you, Zura? Like a real date, at a restaurant? Are you still wanted by the Shinsengumi?”

“I’m not really sure.” Katsura replied idly. “I’ll text the princess about it.”

“You can text the princess? Zura, Kagura texts the princess. What are you doing with her number?”

“A politician needs their connections, Gintoki. I could have texted you, if you weren’t too stupid for a phone.”

There was a low growl in Gintoki’s throat. “Sexy photos? Racy ones? With panties and shit?”

“Not on your life. A politician’s phone is their lifeline.”

“But you’re not a politician anymore, you’re a boyfriend.”

“We can discuss it later.”

“I’d like that.” Gin replied, settling into the embrace. “Hey, Zura?” he finally asked.

“Yes, Gintoki?”

“Can we do the sex stuff? Like tonight? Now, maybe?”

“I wish I’d thought to say that.” Katsura deadpanned. “No, not now.”

“Eh?! But you said-”

“We can’t do it now because I haven’t unpacked the lube yet.” Katsura pulled out of his embrace, hair trailing after him as he shifted things around. He opened a box and hummed with satisfaction. “Here we go,” he said, pulling out a few things with a flair of his wrist. “Lube. Condoms.” His hand fished back into the box. “Gin-san, if you’d like to get reacquainted. He’s currently out of batteries. He’s had a tough time.” Making direct eye contact with Gintoki, he kissed the head lovingly, then returned it to the box. “Later, perhaps. Here, Gintoki,” he placed the bottle of lube and pack of condoms ceremoniously in Gintoki’s hands. “Now we are ready to do the sex stuff.”

Gin whimpered. He looked like a dog with a treat on his nose, waiting for the right command. Wordlessly, he began to shuffle forward, running gracelessly into Katsura and pushing him back with his body. “What is this? What’s happening here?” Katsura asked, flustered. “Did you forget how to have sex? Was it really that rough out there?” His back hit the counter behind him. “Gintoki-!”

Suddenly Gintoki’s arms wrapped around him, lifting him onto the counter. Katsura squeaked. “Gintoki-!”

Gintoki’s lips came down hard on his. Rough and needy, pressing Katsura’s head back into the wall behind the counter. Hips rocked against his, and Gintoki was already hard, had probably hard for the entire conversation. Good. Katsura wasn’t that far behind. He moaned into the kiss, pushing back more from urgency than from some fighting instinct, and wrapped his arms around Gintoki’s strong shoulders. “Is this how they do it out in the sticks?” he asked, voice low and sultry. “Fuck men up against the nearest surface, no questions asked?” They kissed again.

“Yeah, anywhere and everywhere. No reason. We’re like animals, out there in the sticks. We know how our men like it out there, you know.” He tipped Katsura’s head back into another kiss.

“And how do your men like it out there, Gintoki?” Katsura prompted, tilting his hips so Gintoki could rut properly against his ass.

“You know… Up the ass… and stuff.” Either his ability to think clearly or his ability for dirty talk was quickly running out, and Katsura didn’t care to figure out which. He was silent, kissing back, rocking with Gintoki’s movements, just letting the other man thrust against him like a horny teenager. They were a far cry from teenagers, but maybe, like Gintoki had said, they were just broken idiots with no idea how proper relationships worked. It wasn’t like he’d been drawn to the perm-haired bastard for his slick seduction techniques. It was this, that warmth, that understanding shared between them. Gintoki’s hands gripping him like he was afraid he’d disappear. Gintoki was probably as afraid as he had been that these nights were over, he thought, and felt his heart contract painfully.

Gintoki pulled back. “Hey, Prime Minister. They got beds in your palace, or wherever you live?”

“Huge bed. Could sleep ten men, probably. I would have liked to have shown you.” Katsura muttered. “There’s a twin bed down the hall. On the left.” There wasn’t much to the apartment, it’s not like Gintoki could miss it. Gintoki lifted him up, and despite himself, Katsura felt a little giddy, wrapping his legs more firmly around Gintoki’s hips. They were both strong men, could easily support each other and more if necessary, but still, being treated like this sometimes was nice.

“Okay, shit.” Gintoki stumbled, righting himself against the counter. “Right. Which way was Right?”

“Left, Gintoki.”

“Shut up. Didn’t I say old Gin-san’s got this covered? Left, then, here we go.” He stumbled again, adjusted Katsura higher on his hips. “Lube. That’s important. There we go.” he grabbed it off the counter and turned. “Left. Left, right?”

“Left.” This was getting ridiculous, was threatening to kill the mood, but Gintoki surged forward, knocking over a chair and a few carefully sorted boxes as he crashed towards the alleged bed. Katsura gritted his teeth and felt deep feelings for the rampaging idiot.

“Left.” Gintoki finally repeated, dropping him on the bed unceremoniously. “There’s your bed, your majesty. Your honor. What do you call a prime minister?”

“Your Zura.” Katsura purred, drawing his legs together and looking up at Gintoki with impossibly soft eyes.

“My Zura.” Gintoki affirmed. “That’s good. I like my Zura. Even in Western beds, I like my Zura.” He began to mount the bed.

“It’s a bed, Gintoki.” Katsura soothed, lowering himself to allow Gintoki to climb back onto him. “I’m sure you can figure this out.”

“Shut up. Didn’t I tell you your Gin-san’s got this? It’s a bed. I’ll show it who’s the fucking boss.” Arms wrapped around him. “Shit, yeah. That’s the good stuff. Why are you still wearing clothes?”

“Because no one took them off.”

“Shut up. You think I don’t know that?” Suddenly, Gintoki kneeled up on the bed, undid his belt and his sash, threw off his kimono, and then quickly pulled his shirt over his head. “There you go, you do the same.”

Katsura smiled and demurely shouldered himself out of his kimono, letting it pool behind him. He was an easy fix. “Better?”

“Fuck, yeah.” Gintoki breathed, forgetting himself and just leering. “That’s my Zura. That’s what Gin-san likes.” he trailed fingers along a fresh scar from the assault on the terminal. “You got roughed up.” he observed. “Anything internal? No broken ribs? Anything Gin-san’s got to look out for?”

“Clean bill of health, Gintoki.” Katsura assured him. “And you?”

“Gin-san’s good to go, don’t worry about Gin-san.” His fingers lingered on the mark, a thought coming to mind. “Any of these from Takasugi?”

“Let that go. It was a sham. I’m fine.”

“Good, that’s good. If that bastard had really come for you, I would have fucking killed him. Forget the fucking terminal. Forget fucking Senei. Nothing’s worth that.” his hand trailed down and grabbed Katsura’s hip. “Shit. I..” his eyes softened for a moment, like he was on the verge of more, but he stopped. “Nothing’s worth that.” he finally repeated, lowering himself down to kiss his partner.

Katsura could have pointed out that Gintoki had in fact killed Takasugi, but this wasn’t really the time. Something in the almost-confession made his heart weak. He accepted the kiss, whimpering softly. Gintoki was fumbling with his pants, pulling them aside, getting the boxers out of the way, all while continuing the steady kisses. Gintoki leaned in close, grinding his hips, and Katsura could feel the hard member separated just by the thin barrier of his own boxers. He shuddered. “I think I need this face down in the pillows.” he announced quickly.

“What? No!” Gintoki protested. “I want to see my Zura! Do you know how long it’s been? Zura makes the best faces when he’s getting fucked.”

“Face down in the pillows, Gintoki.” Katsura repeated firmly. “I have neighbors.”

Gintoki looked conflicted. He loved the look of Zura getting fucked, but he also loved the sound of it, and Katsura’s almost-admission that he was going to get loud was going straight to his dick. “I just have to keep your mouth occupied, then? Even old Gin-san can handle that, I think.”

Katsura hesitated. “Gintoki…”

“Please.” Gintoki pressed. “Back in the woods, I wasn’t risking ticks on my dick for a back.”

“It’s still my back.”

“Please,” more earnestly. “Let me have this.”

Katsura finally relented. “Fine then, Gin-san gets his way, as usual.” he spread his legs in submission, lifting his hips slightly.

“Fuck yeah, shit yeah.” Gintoki closed his legs again and slid his boxers off. Katsura’s legs fell back open against the bed, and Gintoki shuddered. “Holy shit, I’ve missed this.”

“Good to know.”

“I’ve missed you. Missed my Zura.” he continued, leaving a trail of kisses down his lover’s exposed neck as he fumbled below them. “Missed….” he groaned. “Condoms are hard, you know?”

Katsura’s eyes fluttered open in frustration. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got this, Gin-san’s got this.” More fumbling, and he actually had to get back up on his knees for a second, but then he flopped back down. “There. Gin-san without batteries is ready. Let’s get you ready.”

Two fingers entered him, and Katsura threw his head back, moaning louder than necessary. “Too much?” Gin asked. “I really want to get to this, Zura. Shit, it was too much, wasn’t it?” the fingers left.

Katsura pulled him tight, kissing his stupid face. “Not too much,” he hissed, “Just warn a person next time, will you?”

“Can do. Fingers up your ass coming right up, Zura. Try to relax.” the fingers pushed back in again, and Katsura hid his face in his own shoulder.

“Shit yeah, that’s the good stuff,” Gintoki breathed, fucking him a little rougher than necessary, watching his face intently. “This is what Gin-san in the woods wanted.” There was a pause for more lube, and then three fingers were in him, filling him up. This time there was a full cry.

“My mouth, you idiot, you were supposed to be taking care of that, weren’t you?!” he hissed. Gin looked back like he was in a daze.

“Oh, right, mouth. On it, Zura.” Lips closed on his, and the fingers bent, looking for something inside Katsura knew from experience he’d never find on his own.

“That’s enough.” he hissed.

“You sure? I don’t want to-”

“Fucking get up here, Gintoki.” Katsura snarled. Gintoki followed obediently.

“Mmmm…” Gintoki grinned, taking one last look at his partner. “You look perfect, Zura.”

“Fucking ask me if I care how I fucking look right now.” Katsura was biting against the noises he wanted to make. “Get in me, you fucking idiot.”

And then Gintoki was inside him, and this time it was a full scream but he didn’t have it in him to be mad.

“Good scream, right? We like good screams.” Gintoki muttered into his neck, holding still.

“Good scream. Keep going.”

“Good scream,” Gintoki repeated, relieved, snapping his hips. “Good screams are good.”

“My… my mouth.” Katsura gasped between thrusts. “What good are you if you can’t do what you’re told?” Katsura didn’t expect an answer, they both knew exactly what Gintoki was good for. Lips closed on his again, tongue searching his mouth, and he let loose with the noises he’d been keeping inside, knowing the mouth did little to muffle them. He broke the kiss, arching, whining, keening. “Gintoki!”

“Zura…” Gintoki purred.

“Gintoki!” His hands clamped onto Gintoki’s shoulders, nails leaving marks. Gintoki’s dick found what his fingers never could, and Katsura’s vision blacked out for a second. Gintoki’s pace was hard and steady as a machine, pushing Katsura up the bed and then dragging him back down with each thrust. The bed was hitting the wall, was creaking in protest. Katsura screamed again, turned his head and bit the pillow. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be with a real person, one that could manhandle him a little when he wanted it, and the fact that the person manhandling him was his precious idiot perm head made it perfect. The pillowcase tore in his teeth. Gintoki did his job like a fucking champ, Katsura knew he couldn’t last long at this rate.

“Should. Touch you?” Gintoki mumbled with the lips that should have been muffling him.

Katsura keened. “You… know what I like.” It didn’t take much, not for him, and when Gintoki wrapped his hand around the other man’s dick it was relatively light, gentle strokes that didn’t match the punishing thrusts.

“Zura…” Gintoki whined. “Shit, Zura…”

“Gin… Gintoki.” It was perfect, he wished the amanto had invented some device for preserving memories so he could pull this one out when he was lonely and his space duck and his servants weren’t around. “God, Gintoki. I’m, I- I’m-!”

That was the only warning before he convulsed, whole body going rigid, back arching violently. Gintoki had to hold on to not get bucked, but Gintoki took that in stride too. He knew how it went. Katsura screamed as he released onto his own chest, Gintoki’s chest, the bed. He felt like it had been years since he’d had a proper orgasm. Maybe it had. Definitely it had.

Gintoki was still thrusting, he knew how this worked, knew Katsura would ask him to stop if he needed to, but it didn’t take long. Gintoki really did love his partner’s orgasm faces. Gintoki shuddered, stuttered his hips, and made a few soft curses, a far cry from Katsura’s showy climax, but no less intense. He collapsed onto the other man.

“An’ that’s… how we do it… out in the sticks.” he mumbled, sounding proud of himself. Katsura hoped he wouldn’t pull out quickly, and thankfully he didn’t, just letting them rest like that as they both caught their breath and rode off the little aftershocks. Gintoki stroked Katsura’s hair, lovingly trying to comb it back into place with his fingers. “Your highness. Emperor. Shogun-sama.”

Katsura sighed. “Prime minister.” he reminded lovingly. “Former prime minister.”

“Your majesty.” Gintoki chuckled with false reverence, and maybe just a touch of the real thing. “My Zura.”

“Your Zura.” Katsura agreed. He ran his hand loosely through Gintoki’s hair.

“Hey, Zura?”

“Yes, Gintoki?”

He looked up. “Was I a good boyfriend?”

‘I don’t think it’s the sort of thing you decide on the basis of twenty minutes, but yes. You’ve been a very good boyfriend tonight.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Gintoki said amiably. “Hey, Zura?”

“Yes, Gintoki?”

“Back during the war, with the blood and the dirt and the shitty spit lube, back when we were stupid teenagers fighting a stupid ass war?” He was silent for several seconds, as if deciding something. “I think I loved you back then. I probably should have told you that, back then.”

Katsura felt his heart tremble dangerously. “I see.” he said quietly. “And now?”

“I think I still do.” Gintoki admitted.

Katsura was silent. “I…” he finally tried. “I…”

“Don’t force yourself, Zura. I haven’t been a good boyfriend for very long. I don’t need any of the bells and whistles. I just wanted to let you know. Before the world ends again.” He smoothed Katsura’s hair again. “You were always a good kid, brighter than the rest of us lazy saps. Cute as a button, too. I always thought… I always thought you deserved better than the shit life threw at you.” He sighed. “I always wanted to tell you that.”

Katsura closed his eyes and searched for words to respond to the open sharing. There was nothing, nothing he could force into words. Well, there was one thing…

“Takasugi thought you were a bottom.”

“What?”

“He thought you liked it in the ass, and he thought I liked to give it to you in the ass.”

“When did this come up? When he was assassinating you? You had me worried out of my mind and you were discussing Gin-san’s ass?”

“Yes.” Katsura replied, his voice affectionate. “He thought you needed some, said it was making you whiny.”

Gintoki huffed, looking away. “I could be, you know.” he said as if it was a point of personal pride. “You never asked.”

Katsura sighed. “Maybe some time.” He allowed. “For now, I’m thinking round two should be face down in the pillow.”

Gintoki tensed. “Are we talking about round two already?”

“Are you up for it?”

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah.” he shifted, finally pulling out. They both groaned. “I can go in ten… give me five minutes.

Katsura chuckled. “I’d suck your dick if it hadn’t been in my ass.”

Gintoki froze. “There was a condom in the way.” he ventured. “Not technically touching your ass.”

“Not good enough.”

“You can’t just say things like that!” Gintoki protested. “Do you know how long it’s been since I got head? Do you know how long it’s been since you offered?”

“Years, I’d wager.” Katsura said blandly. “It’s all been years.”

“But I can get a blow job, right? You’ll take a rain check on that? Maybe get nice and sultry between my legs, maybe wear some panties?”

“What’s with you and panties?”

“What’s with you and girl’s clothes?”

“They’re disguises.” Katsura pointed out. “Prime ministers don’t need those sorts of disguises. I don’t have any panties right now.”

“But we can get you some! Nice, lacy things, with the ribbons in the back?” Forget five minutes, Gin was getting hard again. “You know what I miss, of all things? The monk costume. You still got that?”

“I can check.” Katsura replied. “I liked the space captain.”

“I know you liked the space captain, you always liked the space captain.” Gintoki huffed. “The flight attendant?”

“No flight attendant. That one you tore, remember?”

“Shit, I did.” Gintoki pondered for a moment. “We could have saved that one. I liked that one. What about the prime minister getup? I’m sure you’ve still got that.”

“Do you want the mustache too?”

“Nah.” Gintoki’s hand wandered up Katsura’s thigh. “Maybe for round two you can ride me? That’s a fucking sight.”

“Face down in the pillow, Gintoki.”

Gintoki swore blandly. “The neighbors have already heard what they’re going to hear.” he protested. Katsura was silent. “Fine, then. Can I at least pull your hair? You know I won’t do it too rough.”

Katsura made eye contact with him. “Please do.”

Gintoki’s fingers clamped roughly on his hip, gathering the loose hair off the bed and winding it around his fist until he got a moan. “Maybe for round three you can ride me.”

—

It was the end of round two, and Gintoki knew from experience that Katsura was done. He was loose and sloppy and sweat soaked, nuzzling into the pillow as he hummed in satisfaction. Gintoki had pulled the condom off at the end and made a mess all over the other man’s back, and Katsura hadn’t minded. The sight of him covered in semen, both of theirs, was enough to turn Gintoki’s stomach, but there was no round three happening tonight. That was fine. They weren’t kids anymore. He traced lazy patterns on Katsura’s back, trying to make a heart of the fluids.

“Don’t you have to get home, Gintoki?” Katsura mumbled, exhausted. “Won’t your kids be worried about you?”

“Let them think Gin-san’s been out drinking,” he said dismissively. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“About your drinking?” Katsura asked. “It’s stupid. You should give it up. What do you even forget?” he turned to look at Gintoki. “If you ever throw up in my hair again, you’ll never get head so long as you live.”

“No, not that. You see, Kagura’s kicked me out of the bedroom, says it’s hers now.”

“Leader is growing into a young woman.” Katsura admonished sleepilly. “You should have given her a room a long time ago.”

“There’s only the one room, you know.”

“So sleep in the closet.”

“You think I can fit there?!” Gintoki snapped. “Look, I still want the place for the Yoruzuya, but I was thinking, maybe it’s time to get my own place. An apartment near the joint.” He paused. “I was thinking, maybe if we were real boyfriends, we could get one together.”

It was quite an admission, but Katsura took it in stride. “As a couple? What would your kids think about that?”

“They’re old enough to understand. They could use a mother anyway.”

“I’m not a mother.”

Gintoki nudged him with his leg. “Come on, you know you love them.”

“They’re good kids.” Katsura admitted. “What about Elizabeth?”

“Elizabeth isn’t living with us.” Gintoki countered. “Elizabeth doesn’t live with you, does she? There’s only one bed.”

“Elizabeth prefers futons. She’ll sleep in the living area.”

“She was never there when we were getting busy.”

“Elizabeth is familiar with the proverbial sock on the bedroom door. She gave us our space. She’s a lady.”

Gintoki faltered. “You know she has a penis, right? I’ve seen it.”

“You’re sounding very intolerant right now.” Katsura pouted. “Elizabeth is Elizabeth. She is just as she needs to be.”

“We’ll put a pin in the space duck for now then.” Gintoki conceded.

“Elizabeth is too big for a pin.” Katsura pressed.

“You don’t want her living where we fuck, do you? That’s a lot of sock-on-the-door scenarios. That’s asking her to stay out every single night!” He grabbed Katsura by the hip and pulled him in. “You think that’s fair to Elizabeth?”

“Maybe she can stay at the Yorozuya then.” Katsura conceded, letting a hand trail on Gintoki’s chest. “It may take her a while to get used to you again. She was less forgiving than I was when you left.”

“I think our mascots might have a problem with that.” Gintoki grumbled. “Listen, this is getting very unsexy. I was asking if you’d live with your boyfriend.”

Katsura looked him up and down. “Men can get married now, you know.”

“What?”

“A man can marry another man. It’s in the constitution.” He yawned. “I put it in there myself. Women too. It’s very modern.” He stretched a little. “I promised the girls at the bar. Zurako never forgets a promise.”

Gintoki let the thought sink in. Shit, husbands? They’d been something confusing for so long. “That’s too much to think about.”

Katsura yawned again and turned on his side. “It really is.”

“Husbands? Gin-san and Zura?”

“If we were married, I’d think it would have to be Gin-san and Kotarou.”

Gin’s eyes widened. “Gin-san and Taro?”

“No, you ruined it, you fucking ruined it.” Katsura pushed him off.

“Taro-kun?”

“We’re not doing this again, Gintoki, you’re not fucking my name up again.”

“But Taro-kun-”

A leg swept the bed and literally kicked him out. “Sleep on the floor, you bastard.”

“But Zura…” Gin protested.

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura!”

“Oh, we’re back to that again?”

“It was always Katsura, you giant asshole!”

“You can be anyone’s Katsura, but you’re my Zura!”

“Cut it out, Kintoki!”

Gin did a fake wince. “That’s low.”

“It’s exactly the same thing!”

“It’s not!” Gin protested. “Sakamoto doesn’t remember my name! I make a conscious decision to call you Zura.”

“Well cut it out!”

“Zura! Hey, Zura! You can’t back down now, you’ve lost too much ground! Zura! You called yourself my Zura, it’s official!”

“I’m reneging.” Katsura replied, rolling over to face the wall.. “I’m not your Zura. I don’t have a sofa. Sleep on the floor or the table. Go back to your damn kids.”

“Katsura-sama! Lord Shogun!” Gintoki tried.

“Shut up.”

“It was because I had a crush on you!” Gintoki blurted out. “But then Takasugi started using it so it couldn’t be a pet name. He ruined it for me!”

Katsura rolled back over. “You were flirting with me?”

“Katsura-sama!”

“God, can’t you pull hair like a normal kid?”

“I did! Remember?”

“I hated that too!” Katsura spat. “Damn it, how the hell did I end up with you?!”

“You’re not really kicking me out of bed, Katsura-sama! We’re boyfriends now! It’s official!”

“Just shut up and get in, then!” Katsura relented.

Gintoki hauled himself off the floor and slid into bed next to the other man. “Only, Katsura-sama?”

“What the hell is it, Gintoki?”

“I know you were done for the night, but then we got worked up, and…”

“I’m not doing anything for you!” Katsura growled. “Go to sleep.”

“Only, Katsura-sama,” a hand snaked around his hip to palm his crotch. “You’ve got an erection.”

“Ignore it.”

“But I think if we just…” The fingers began to work him slowly as Gintoki slowly rolled his hips against Katsura’s back. The bastard also had an erection, which was lazily tracking against Katsura’s already-slick ass.

“If you put that thing in, we’re through.”

“I know, I wasn’t suggesting that, but…” The thrusts were coming quicker, now, in time with the stroking of his dick, and teeth worried his shoulder. “Gintoki…”

There was a bite on his neck. “Gintoki!” He was awake now, and damn it, the heat in his stomach was burning steadily. The shallow thrusts rocked him into Gintoki’s hand, and the labored breath in the silent room spurred him on. “You’re incorrigible…”

“Mmmm, Katsura-sama, do you know how you feel? Your body is perfect, I’m going to cum just like this, just from rutting your ass, because you’re the best fucking lay I’ve ever had and you smell like sex and you look like- God!” his free hand gripped Katsura’s hip to pull him back, grinding harder into him, and Katsura realized he was grinding back and he wanted to be fucking furious but he couldn’t be because it was just so good.

“Gintoki!” he gasped, hand joining Gintoki’s to stroke himself. “Gintoki!”

“Zuuuura…” Gintoki groaned, and Katsura could swear he felt the shit-eating grin against his shoulder when he wasn’t corrected.

“Gintoki, you…” he panted, grinding and keening. “You… I!” His head snapped back into Gintoki’s shoulder and he moaned loudly.

Gintoki kept working him, rough and dirty. “Cum for me, Zura.” he commanded, his voice deep and commanding. He jerked Katsura’s head back and planted a strong kiss on Katsura’s mouth.

To his surprise, that did it. Katsura clenched his legs, curling up into a ball as best he could as he came again. He wasn’t surprised when he felt the wet against his back of Gintoki finishing. “You jerk.” he panted, letting himself be kissed as the stroking slowed and then stopped. “You damn jerk.”

“Just like I thought, you had another little one in there.” Gintoki announced, clearly pleased with himself. “Now you can rest, can’t you?”

Katsura searched for a retort and found there was nothing there. He felt exhausted, the best kind of exhausted, and Gintoki’s arms felt perfect around him. He was asleep before he knew it.

“That’s my Zura.” Gintoki purred, sitting slightly to move them into a better position. He tugged Katsura’s arm back so he would be resting on the pillow, only for Katsura’s head to roll back so they were facing each other.

Zura’s eyes were wide open and blurry, drool already dripping from the side of his mouth. He snored lightly.

“Shit, Zura, you still sleep with your eyes open?” Gin asked. “That’s creepy! The worst! Hey, Zura, wake up, you’ve got to move, you’ve got to face the wall or something so I can sleep. There’s no way I can fall asleep with you staring at me, Zura, we’ve got to get you an eye mask or something.”

Katsura continued snoring peacefully, wide eyes staring at nothing.

“Oi, Zura, come on! Wake up! Don’t do this to me Zura! Gin-san needs his sleep too, Gin san gave you a great night, doesn’t he deserve some sleep too? Oi, Zura? Zuuuraaa!”

#katsura kotarou #ginzura #sakata gintoki #gintama

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ctlightner · 3 months

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Book Review: Snowglobe by Soyoung Park, translated by Joungmin Lee Comfort

SUMMARY:

Snowglobe is a post-apocalyptic dystopian YA novel where climate change has resulted in the Earth being frozen almost all the time. Temperatures average about 5F on a good day, but can regularly get down to -50F. However, there is one place in the world where the temperatures are mild and regulated: the city of Snowglobe, which exists under a dome. Theoretically, anyone can go live in Snowglobe. The catch is, you must submit to having your entire life filmed and recorded and edited into the TV shows the rest of the outside world watches.

The story follows Jeon Chobahm, who is a dead ringer for the most famous actor in Snowglobe, Goh Haeri: the girl next door, whose life has been broadcasted since her birth. However, Haeri's director, Cha Seol, shows up one day looking for Chobahm, and tells her that she needs to take over Haeri's life because the TV star has committed suicide. Chobahm agrees, and then discovers all of the secrets and twists that the haven has to offer.

REVIEW:

I was actually surprised at how much I loved this book. These days, YA and I usualy don't vibe, but I'm beginning to suspect that it may have less to do with books for teens, and more to do with how what people now picture as YA is more along the lines of what people want to call "New Adult." Snowglobe would probably not go over well for that 17-25 crowd, but I think it is perfect for "Lower YA," aka, "Teens," aka people age 12-16.

It's an extremely fast-paced, plot-forward story with casual, modern language and subject matter that a lot of middle schoolers and early high schoolers can relate to. I can only imagine how terrifying school can be nowadays for kids who adamantly do not want to film or be filmed, but sometimes have no choice due to a lot of social medias encouraging a panopticonic approach to life.

I will admit, it's not a particularly deep book. It's doesn't pick apart its world like The Hunger Games does, but it does offer an avatar for readers to immerse themselves in. I don't know how that is affected by it being a book in translation, but I suspect it has more to do with the intended age range of readers. The plot itself goes at a very fast pace, with high-stakes plot twists happening one right after the other.

To be brutally honest, one of the reasons I find this book so charming is because it reads like a self-insert fanfic. I mean this VERY complimentary. I've read more than a few fics that center OCs, Y/Ns, and 2nd-person Reader Inserts, and they all have a certain pace and voice to them that injects a wonderful confidence into the narrative. A confidence that, to the lay person, may seem amateurish and confusing, but to a connoisseur of these stories is familiar, nostalgic, and exactly what's needed. It is imperative that this book is approached with a want to be pulled along on a wild, exciting, fantastical roller coaster. I think many in the 12-16 range naturally approach things like that, which is why I think that's the ideal demographic.

But, if you or someone you know want a little brain candy, pick it up. And for a chaser, I'd recommend two video essays ([1], [2]) by Moon Channel about an ongoing gender war (his words) in South Korea, and why the country has come to blows like this. I think these videos offer an introduction for Westerners into some of the nuances of Korean life, and bring another layer of context to the premise of this book.

If you know a child in middle school who loves to read dystopian fiction, consider pointing them in the direction of this book, especially if the have read and enjoyed Divergent.

#bookblr #books #book review #YA #translated books #dystopia #dystopian fiction #CTL Reads

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angelamajiki · 3 years

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PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru

#yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #yandere x reader #yandere

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wily-old-dangernoodle · 4 years

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Okay so here’s a thought, regarding Aziraphale’s ability to sense love:

I think, at least judging by fanworks, we may be looking at it wrong and missing out on important things to analyse in the process

What usually (always as far as I’ve seen, but I’ve hardly seen everything so I’m not ruling out the possibility that someone has addressed this already) happens in fic is that, well, either Aziraphale can sense Crowley’s love or he can’t. Regardless of which one it is, my point is that we always talk of Crowley’s love. The focus is always on the source - Aziraphale can or cannot sense love coming from Crowley, or in his presence, in his aura etc etc. In other words, he can sense the act of loving.

But. That’s not exactly what we get from canon, is it? Aziraphale doesn’t sense Adam loving Tadfield - he just knows someone does. It doesn’t happen in Adam’s presence, he doesn’t sense it coming from the boy or anything like that. He arrives in the area and can tell that it is loved. The focus seems to be on the recipient - rather than the act of loving, Aziraphale seems to be able to sense something or someone being loved.

From there things can go similarly as they already do in most fics - either Aziraphale can’t sense Crowley’s love (because he’s the recipient and can’t sense it on himself, or because Crowley can’t “broadcast”, so to speak, or for any other reason), he can sense it without any problems, or he can sense it with some sort of problem

There are various problems that can arise here - for one, if Aziraphale can sense love on the recipient, rather than from the source, and he himself is the recipient, then the feeling would be ever-present. If it’s always there, then it can be damn hard to notice, especially if it started small and intensified steadily through the years. Like the frog in slowly boiling water, except the frog is slowly getting pampered rather than killed. It just becomes the new normal and you can’t even tell that anything has changed.

Two - and this is the entire reason I’m typing this post - it could be that even if you do notice the love, it may not be possible to identify the source at all! And if so, it can be all to easy to make a mistake - especially if, say, you don’t expect the actual source would love you, or love you so soon, you know what I’m getting at. Especially if, on the other hand, you have people you are told - or want to believe - care about you.

God comes to mind, but I’m not going to go there because GO God is mostly a blank canvas everyone has their own interpretation of. But. Heaven.

Aziraphale does want to believe that they’re good, that they care. Given ambiguous information, people often interpret it to mean what they want to be true. And early Aziraphale needs it to be true, otherwise pretty much everything he knows to be true would crumble out of the blue, with no alternative ideas to make sense of the world. Your brain will make you believe some really unbelievable things to not let that happen because that way literally lies madness.

It’d make sense why Aziraphale keeps believing that Heaven cares, that he can reason with them, that they’d listen, despite their actions making it obvious that they do not and will not. His very senses - coupled with a grave misinterpretation - would be telling him that they do. He’d be effectively, though entirely by accident, gaslighting himself.

#good omens #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens meta #also note i am absolutely not criticizing the current interpratations #just exploring an alternative idea #mine

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joyful-soul-collector · 3 years

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❄️Week 1: December 9-15❄️

stars in the city ch. 10 by @parkrstark (Pt. 3 of constant as the stars above)

Summary: Peter and Steve are finally settling into their new life with Tony. Recovery isn't always a straight line, especially with a four-year-old, but they're trying their best. Their newfound fame has Steve juggling between his private life and the one plastered on the front page of every tabloid. He shouldn't have been surprised that the public didn't believe in his rags to riches love story. Tony usually makes it easier for him to handle it all. Until he starts to distance himself from Steve, as if now he's the one hiding something. And Steve is left wondering if he's about to lose Tony for good this time.

Relationships/Tropes: Stony, Irondad, Papa Steve, Homeless Peter Parker, Homeless Steve Rogers, No Powers AU, (Coffee Shop AU??? Sorta)

Review: This fic just always makes my heart ache in the best way. So much fluff, so much angst, it's a perfect balance that I'm just absolutely in love with!

❄️

Devils Roll The Dice ch. 9 by @ephemeralstark

Summary: “I miss you Mr. Stark,” Peter admitted as he stared up through the leaves overhead at the stars that twinkled promisingly at him, “I wish you were back here. I would give anything to fix things, I would give anything for you to be alive today.” What Peter didn't know, as he made that wish and closed his eyes, letting the tears fall shamefully, was that the Universe was always listening, and it was dangerous to make a wish and offer up anything. - Tony Stark wakes up in his bed one morning, not realising that months have passed since his death - that's going to be awkward to explain to the world. Peter Parker has been living on the streets, trying to hide his identity as the entire world wants Spider-Man dead, and dealing with the trauma that Beck left him. To make things worse - it's now his fault that yet another bad guy thinks they're entitled to owning Earth.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Spideychelle, Pepperony, Happy Hogan/May Parker, Homeless Peter Parker, Post-FFH, Post-Identity Reveal, Tony Stark Comes Back To Life

Review: Oh man this fic is so sad and so sweet, I love it so much! I love how it combines Peter's trauma after Mysterio with his reaction to finding out that Tony is alive again, it's just so creative!

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His Heart Bloomed Sunflowers (and he wore them on his skin) by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 24 of Comfortember 2020)

Summary: Peter honestly didn't know how no one had discovered his tattoos yet. He wasn't broadcasting them but he wasn't exactly being the most subtle either. Although he was partly grateful for it since he was dreading what would happen when May on Tony saw them. But he was pleasantly surprised at the reactions that he got when he was found out. Peter had expected anger, disappointment, maybe annoyance at the very least. What he got was far from that. (A sequel to Comfortember Day 4. Anxiety) Comfortember Day 29. Make/Build/Create Something Beautiful

Relationships/Tropes: Minor Spideychelle, Tattoos, Comfortember

Review: I love this fic so much! I loved the description of how the flowers wilted when the ones he'd drawn had faded, and how the ones he got tattooed never wilted again :']

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I’ll drive all night (to keep them warm) by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 23 of Comfortember 2020)

Summary: For the next hour they tried to calm Morgan again but, just like the rest of the day with Tony and Pepper, nothing was working. No teething rings, gel, nothing. The little girl was just well and truly grumpy, tired, and sore.

Suddenly an idea came to Peter and he turned to Tony and Pepper.

"Can I try something?"

They both nodded at him, prompting him to continue with his idea.

"Can I take her for a drive?" He asked. "I'm not sure if it'll work but Ben used to do it for me when I was younger and it always calmed me down."

Comfortember day 28. Car Ride

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Peter & Morgan, Pepperony, Baby Morgan, Car Rides, Comfortember

Review: This one was so cute! I love Peter being a good big brother to baby Morgan, and I relate to finding trips in the car relaxing and nice :D

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It’s What Brothers Do by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 22 of Comfortember 2020)

Summary: Morgan was somehow full of even more energy than usual that day and wanted to see if she could do the monkey bars that were attached to the jungle gym herself. Before Peter could stop her, she had already grabbed hold of the first one and let herself swing towards the next one.

But the little girl had misjudged just how heavy swinging your own body weight was and almost immediately started falling. Peter shot forward from his place on the ground, jumping and diving, just managing to catch her before they both hit the grass of the park grounds. Comfortember Day 27. Park

Relationships/Tropes: Minor Pepperony, Peter & Morgan, Irondad, Peter Protects Morgan, Comfortember

Review: Another cute Big Brother Peter fic! I love that Peter was really protecting Morgan in this one, he loves her enough to put himself in harm's way to protect her

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The Burger Debate by @littlemissagrafina (Pt. 21 of Comfortember 2020)

Summary: Tony and Peter shared a lot of similarities, there was no doubt about it. A lot of their mannerisms were the same, personality quirks (especially in the lab), occasional recklessness, selfless hero personas, etc etc. However, one thing they didn't share was their taste in burgers. Whenever the topic came up there was a friendly, yet heated, 'disagreement' as Tony called it. No matter what anyone ever told him, Tony thought that a cheeseburger was the holy grail of burgers. And Peter, well… he happened to think the same only for chicken burgers.

Comfortember Day 26. Junk Food

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Peter & Morgan, Pepperony, Infinity War Compliant, Not Endgame Compliant

Review: This was so sweet and so sad, especially the part where Tony couldn't eat burgers while Peter was snapped because it hurt him too much. It showed his grief really well

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Career Day Drabble by @jen27ny

Summary: uncle happy and uncle rhodey come to peter’s career day

Relationships/Tropes: Happy & Peter, Rhodey & Peter, Happy & Rhodey, Minor Irondad, Career Day

Review: I loved this story so much! I really appreciate seeing some nice Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy content!!

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Gifts by @wayward-fairchild (Pt. 5 of Holiday Collection 2020)

Summary: Rhodey and Tony have been together to the point Rhodey sees the kids as his own. Maybe that is why the kids agree to help with Rhodey's biggest gift to Tony yet.

Relationships/Tropes: Rhodey & Tony, Irondad, Rhodey & Peter, Christmas, Kid Peter

Review: This was just absolutely adorable! I love some Irondads content and this was very sweet

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evermore by @lyssismagical

Summary: Just a Solid Vent Fic. I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho

Relationships/Tropes: Spideychelle, Irondad, Peter Overworks Himself

Review: I loved this one a lot! I definitely relate to Peter with tending to overwork myself during school and letting other things fall away, and then feeling quite exhausted after it's all over haha. I'm glad MJ and Tony were able to help him <3

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Two Hours Spent Cuddling by @skeeter-110 (Pt. 2 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: A giant snowstorm takes out the power in the tower. While waiting for the backup generator to come up, the Stark-Rhodes family finds a way to stay warm.

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Kid Peter, Christmas

Review: I. Love this story. So much. I haven't seen very many stories that center around Rhodey being a father-figure to Peter, and this one definitely filled all my desires for such a story! It's so fluffy and sweet, and I loved every word :D

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Three Stark-Rhodes’ Decorating by @skeeter-110 (Pt. 3 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: Tony, Rhodey, and Peter Stark-Rhodes begin decorating for the holiday season.

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Kid Peter, Christmas

Review: This story was absolutely adorable! It was another featuring Papa Rhodey and Dad Tony with Little Peter, and it was so well done! I love that Tony's robots and JARVIS each get a stocking hung over the fire too, and the way Peter pronounce ornaments as "orminents" was so cute!!!

❄️

Four Poorly Wrapped Presents by @skeeter-110 (Pt. 3 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: Peter has two presents each for his Daddy and his Papa. The only problem was, he had no idea how to wrap them. He figures the Avengers could help.

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Avengers Family, Kid Peter, Christmas

Review: This was so sweet! Clint, Nat, and Steve treat Peter with such sweetness, and it made my heart all fuzzy and warm <3

❄️

If you look at any these stories, be sure to show the author your appreciation with a comment/kudos/reblog where applicable!

Click here for more fanfic rec lists!

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lemonpeter · 3 years

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STARKER, By Peter B. Parker

Chapter 1: Fix-it

So @preciouspeterbparker and I have been working on this fic and we are SO excited to finally share this with everyone!! It started as a WandaVision-fueled concept and turned into a whole ass fic. We’re absolutely obsessed and we hope you guys love it as much as we’re loving writing it!! I hope everyone enjoys💕

Summary: After Peter’s identity has been compromised, he runs to the only place he can think of, as memory-filled it may be. He may be alone, but the loneliness was something he’d worked on becoming accustomed to. And it was something he could fix, given the right technology.

Lucky him, that tech fit right in the palm of his hand.

Warnings: Peter is 17, set directly after FFH, canon death mention, canon divergence, inappropriate use of Stark tech

Ao3 link

————

Peter’s eyes were wide as he crouched on top of the lamp post and stared at the screen, stunned. This couldn’t be happening. Not here, not now.

It had to have been an illusion. It wasn’t real. Right?

His brain was racing, thoughts moving too quickly to keep up with what was going on.

His name was said. His real name. The name ‘Peter Parker’ didn’t just belong to a nobody anymore.

It belonged to Spider-Man.

Which meant it belonged to the public. The public who blindly believed that he was a murderer.

His body moved before he could think about what he was doing, swinging over the crowds that stared at him in shock. He ignored the sound of MJ calling his name from below, desperate to get away. And it would be better for her if she wasn’t associated with him. She’d be safe if people didn’t know.

People yelled, their voices coupled with the sounds of the city pushing him towards overstimulation. They were angry, throwing things in an attempt to knock him down. But nothing got high enough. He stayed well above everyone, breathing heavily. He felt like he was going to pass out.

His eyes flitted around, glancing at all the buildings around him, all the possible routes, without really focusing on any of them. Where was he going? He couldn’t go home; there was no way he could face May. It was guaranteed that she’d seen the clip already and he didn’t want her to be super worried about him. He couldn’t do that to her. Not when things had finally started looking up for her, not when she finally seemed truly happy again.

Ned’s house wasn’t an option either. His best friend’s parents had a shaky opinion of Spider-Man last time he’d heard and he didn’t want his entire friendship to fall apart there.

He definitely couldn’t involve Michelle in this. They had pretty much moved on from their ill-fated attempt at romance that ended when she couldn’t deal with the nightmares he still had, but he wasn’t over it enough for that to be a viable option.

His brain screamed one name but his heart ached over the mere thought. He could only imagine one way for this to be okay, for him to ever feel truly okay again. It wasn’t even a possibility anymore and he knew it. But that didn’t make the pain any less excruciating.

No matter how much he wanted it to happen, Tony couldn’t save him from this.

The reality tugged at his heart and stole the breath from his lungs. He had to pause on top of a building, perched on the ledge so he could easily take off again if he needed to.

It had been almost nine months since the man had died. Since he’d saved everyone else and sacrificed himself. But it still hurt Peter like the wound was fresh.

He knew that the move had to be made. Someone had to do it.

But god, he wished he had been the one to take the fall. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret not getting the gauntlet from Mr. Stark before he snapped.

Maybe his motives were purely selfish. Because any time he considered the idea, it wasn’t for the good of everyone else.

He just didn’t like living in a world without Tony Stark.

Peter heard someone opening the door that led to the rooftop and he bolted again, not needing to be caught. But he still needed to figure out his destination.

Then it clicked. A real possibility. Even though he’d have to do more than swing to get there.

The compound upstate.

It was almost completely in ruins when he’d last seen it, destroyed by Thanos and his army. And it wasn’t likely it was too much better since the person funding it….

Well, he couldn’t be in charge of the upkeep anymore. Peter didn’t even like thinking about that part of it.

But he’d be able to hide there for a while, at least. Completely unbothered. There weren’t too many people that knew about the exact location or how to get there. So he’d be safe while everything cooled down.

He could use some time alone anyways.

In order to get there, he’d need to drive. But he didn’t exactly have access to a car. And it was highly unlikely he’d be able to get an Uber while everyone thought he was a murderer.

There was one person he knew he could trust. Although Peter wasn’t sure he wanted to pull him into everything.

But he really did need a ride. He had to get out of the city. There was no other option.

“Karen? Can you call Happy for me?”

“Of course, Peter.”

There was a dialing noise for a few seconds before the call picked up.

“Peter? Where are you?” Happy was as harsh as ever as soon as he picked up.

Peter swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I need a favor. Please, I need a ride to get out of town. I can’t deal with all of this. Please.” His voice cracked pitifully on the last word.

A moment of silence before a heavy sigh crackled through the speakers in his mask, the sharp sound making him wince. “May wants you to come home. She’s kind of freaking out here, she just saw the news.”

Peter chewed his lip, his eyes dropping to the crowds in the street below. They were all watching him, phones trained on his every move. The feeling of their eyes on him made his skin crawl. “I can’t. Tell her I’m sorry, but I can’t go home. Not right now. Not yet.”

Happy didn’t say anything for a minute, but Peter could hear May’s frantic plea in the background. He felt horrible. But he couldn’t go back. Nearly everyone in the whole city was against him. He couldn’t deal with that. And he didn’t want May to have to figure everything out for him.

Finally the other man spoke again. “I can’t help you. It’s not that I don’t understand, it’s the principle. I’m not helping you run away.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. It doesn’t matter the circumstance. You’re running away. And I’m not going to be a part of it. Just come home, Peter,” Happy told him, his voice gentler then the young man had ever heard it.

“Karen, end call.” In a brief moment of anger, Peter hung up. He knew Happy and May were right. But he just couldn’t go home. He was already sick of being leered at and the broadcast had just gone live. It would only get worse.

And he still didn’t have a ride.

A heavy sigh left him, the sound accurately conveying his sheer exhaustion.

The directions to the compound were something he knew well, he’d probably be able to instruct someone there in his sleep. That wasn’t the issue. It was just so far and without a ride it would take forever.

Maybe a run would do him good. A very, very long run.

***

He’d made an extremely brief stop before leaving the city, buying a set of civilian clothes (even though that didn’t matter, where he was going), a small backpack to hold everything, and enough food for approximately two weeks. It wasn’t the most nutritious stuff, but it was something he could survive on until he felt safe enough to go back home.

After that, it took a few hours for him to finally reach the compound site, but at least he hadn’t been spotted. Most of his escape had been through woods, so despite the fact that he was now an extremely recognizable face, no one saw him. Or tried to come after him, at least.

The sun had set, only the barest bit of orange still hanging above the horizon as he walked up to the damaged building. At least it wasn’t quite as bad as he’d remembered.

It was completely destroyed in some places, while others were just crumbling. It seemed like someone had tried to fix bits and pieces, but eventually just gave up. No longer was it the beautiful campus that Tony created. But it would do for what he needed.

Peter headed to one of the more intact areas, breathing heavily as he finally was able to relax. No more running to try and get to his destination as fast as possible. He was there and he could finally calm down.

No one else was within miles of the place. He was safe.

But it was so lonely. That was par for the course, though, he supposed. He’d been feeling lonely for a while now, despite the best attempts of those around him.

He decided to settle down in one of the old training rooms. It was probably one of only spaces still mostly together. The roof hadn’t been displaced at all, the walls only had the slightest bit of charring. The space was huge, but a lot of it was taken up by pieces of furniture and equipment. At least it didn’t feel extremely empty.

He sat on the ground, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head against the wall. It was almost nice to be able to just sit and not be worried about being caught.

Almost.

The silence screamed at him, amplifying his anxious thoughts and nearly suffocating him.

Having someone to talk to would have been nice. But who was he supposed to talk to? He still felt bad about hanging up on Happy, so he wasn’t a choice and neither was May. Ned would probably make things worse, despite just wanting to help, so he couldn’t do that either. Thinking about MJ just made him feel guilty, so she was off limits too.

No, if he was honest with himself, there was only one person he really wanted to talk to.

The thought took him by surprise all over again, grief clenching around his heart like a vice grip.

Tony would know what to do. He’d be able to easily get Peter out of the insane situation, fixing everything all up again and making it all right. He’d gotten himself out of plenty of messes, why would this be different?

For just a moment, Peter smiled to himself as he imagined how Mr. Stark would have handled everything. None of it would have felt so grave. There would have been a joke or two made before he worked his magic and made Peter safe again. It would have been over and forgotten about before dinner.

Then reality sunk in again, as it always did.

Tony wasn’t there to help. He couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be ever again.

Peter didn’t like thinking about the fact that he was gone, but if he didn’t tell himself that it was true, that it had really happened, then he’d get hope again and fall apart. He didn’t have the luxury of falling apart when everything was already such a mess.

As a distraction, he began sorting through the backpack he’d gotten, taking out every item and looking it over. Then he got to the front pocket and remembered the last thing he had tucked inside.

Since getting them back, Peter didn’t go anywhere without the EDITH glasses. He’d made the mistake of giving them to someone else before, a mistake he was clearly going to keep paying for. He couldn’t let anyone else get a hold of them again.

He slowly pulled them out, holding onto them for a moment and looking at them. His last gift from Tony. An extremely powerful gift that probably should have been given to someone else. But they weren’t. They were his, for better or worse.

Their full capabilities hadn’t really been something he’d thought about. He didn’t know much of anything about them, really. He knew they had an AI that had absolutely no chill and could control drones, but that was about it.

Peter hadn’t considered what the drones could actually do. The projections that Beck created had been intense and so real, it was hard to believe that he held the power to such a thing in his hands.

If entire beings and monsters could be created, what else could they do?

A sudden thought appeared, prodding at the grieving part of his brain. What were the limits of the projections? How much could they create?

How real could the illusions get?

Letting himself fantasize about possibilities was dangerous and he knew it. But just messing around with the technology wouldn’t be so bad, right? He was just going to familiarize himself with it some more. See what it was capable of.

For the night, however, he needed to sleep. It had been an exhausting day and his eyelids were heavy. The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place ever, but it would do for the first night.

He was asleep within minutes of laying down, dreams of bringing Tony back comforting him. Fantasy was dangerous, no matter how he tried to excuse it.

But maybe it didn’t have to stay just a fantasy.

***

Peter slowly slid the glasses on, breathing shakily. His stomach was churning anxiously. He was still reeling from yesterday’s events and what they meant for him.

But at least now he had an idea, something to focus on, to keep him from getting trapped in a downward spiral.

“Hello, Peter,” EDITH greeted, voice soothing as always.

“Hey, um-“ he raked a hand through his hair. What was he doing? He didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what to ask, or how to ask it without sounding crazy.

EDITH, as intuitive as they came, seemed to sense his pause. “What do you need help with today, Peter?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Swallowed down the lump in his throat. “So...you know how Be- how Mysterio used the drones?” It was probably awful phrasing given everything that had happened. But it was his only frame of reference for the tech’s use first-hand.“Can I do that? The...the pictures and all. Projections.”

“Yes, Peter. You have access to each of those systems. Would you like to call them here?”

He sucked in a harsh breath. That was something. Maybe… “I...yeah. Please.” He knew the vast majority of the drones had been destroyed in the battle on the bridge. But he was sure that, in true Tony Stark fashion, there were more out there somewhere. Mr. Stark was nothing if not prepared.

Peter knew that the drones could create projections, illusions, elaborate scenes that were impossible to tell from reality. But he didn’t just want to see. He wanted to feel, too.

“EDITH? Can you run me through the programming you run on? Basics, advanced, everything in between.” He certainly had the time to go over it all.

“Of course, Peter.”

He had all the time in the world to figure things out, as far as he was concerned. And once he understood how the tech worked, he could bring his questionable plan to life. Piece of cake.

***

As requested, EDITH filled him in on everything. Her own coding and controls, as well as the tech she was based on, BARF (the name never failed to force a hint of a smile to his lips). He had a pretty good understanding of how it worked, especially after watching a video of the presentation Tony gave at MIT.

BARF allowed the wearer of the glasses to access their hippocampus and project their memories. Though Tony always maintained that the tech was intended to be therapeutic and assist in healing from past traumatic events, Beck had obviously allowed for the projection of whatever the wearer desired.

In this case, if it worked correctly, whatever Peter desired.

Since he wanted to be able to actually feel the illusion, he’d have to alter the programming to interact with other parts of his brain. Namely the parietal lobe, which was responsible for tactile sensory information.

Shouldn’t be too hard.

***

Peter slipped the glasses on again. “Hi, EDITH,” he started, biting his lip. Was he really going to do this?

“Hello, Peter. What can I help you with?”

“Run program: STARKER.” He’d slipped some of his own programming into her code in order to do what he wanted. No turning back now. He closed his eyes and prayed to whoever was listening that it worked.

It had to work.

He thought of the only place he wanted to be right now. The place where he’d always felt at home.

When he opened his eyes again, he watched as pixels began to overtake the room, going from the ground up as everything fell into place around him. In a passing thought, he noted that it was similar to watching the smooth ooze of the nanobots that made up his Iron Spider suit. Then suddenly he wasn’t in a bare, badly destroyed training room. He was in Tony’s penthouse at the tower.

And he wasn’t the only one. The sight of his own illusion startled him, left him feeling disoriented. Illusion-Peter blinked at him blankly since he wasn’t thinking of anything in particular for him to do. It was...unsettling, looking at himself. Could he-

Closing his eyes again, Peter swallowed. He thought of his illusion, seeing things from his point of view-

When he opened his eyes again, he could no longer see himself. Much better. Now he was still able to see, feel, and interact with everything in the illusion without having to watch it play out like a movie, the way Tony had in that video. It was just like real life.

He looked at his surroundings again.

The window-wall in front of him looked out over the city, and the sun was shining brightly. To his left was a bar, and the elevator was to the right, sandwiched between two staircases, one of which went up and the other down. Peter’s eyes were wide as he slowly turned around, trying to take it all in. The amount of detail was incredible. He hadn’t realized how much of this place he remembered. The little conversation pit was there, complete with the semi-circle couch and the fireplace he’d seen in a photo spread years earlier. Everything screamed Tony, from the decor to the coffee and whiskey scented air.

But despite the astonishing realism, it still felt so empty. The space felt wrong. Incomplete.

There was definitely something missing. Or someone.

Peter chewed his lip, closing his eyes as he focused. Nervous energy was churning in his stomach. “Come on, EDITH,” he mumbled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was it, the make it or break it moment. “Do your thing.”

Everything was silent for a moment and Peter was worried that it hadn’t worked. His heart skipped a beat, thudding painfully in his chest. Maybe all the work he had put in meant nothing since it hadn’t originally been part of the program.

But slowly the pixels started again, building a figure up seemingly out of nowhere until it formed a full person.

The only person he wanted to see right now.

Tony blinked, a bit disoriented before he glanced over and saw Peter. He shot his signature cocky half-smile towards the young man. “Hey, kid. What did I miss?”

Peter let out a choked sound, a mix between a sob and a borderline-hysterical laugh. “Tony,” he rasped.

And suddenly everything felt okay again.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #tony x peter #tony stark x peter parker #happy hogan #may parker #tw death #death mention #starker angst #angst and feels #SbPBP #Peter’s EDITH!verse

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paper-mirio · 3 years

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Your Heart on Your Sleeve & A Knife in Your Back

Shindou Yo x Reader

Words: 7,229

Summary: When the two of you were young, you made a promise to each other that the two of you would be the greatest hero duo the world had ever seen. You would be the Pro Heroes Heat Wave and Grand, the best partners in the industry! And you weren’t going to let something as simple as going to different hero schools get in the way of your promise to your best friend. Before one can become a Pro Hero, however, they must receive their Provisional License. And really, since you’re so eager to talk to him about your classmates, can you blame him for using that information to his advantage? The answer, of course, is yes.

A/N: This was written as a Secret Santa present for a friend! It’s sort of a Christmas fic but since I don’t think I mentioned Christmas anywhere take it as a late generic holiday fic! Enjoy!

“I got in!” you shouted into the phone, prompting your dad to shout for you to lower your voice from downstairs. You called out an apology, gently setting down the hologram disc that came with your acceptance letter. The video had been paused near the end, and the smile on All Might’s frozen face paled in comparison to the beaming grin etched onto yours.

Instead of the excited encouragement you expected in response, you were met with silence. You waited, before hesitantly asking, “Shindou? You there?”

“...Yeah. Um, you got in where, exactly?” Shindou asked.

“Oh, yeah. I got into UA! They said I'm in class 1-A!” you exclaimed. You giggled excitedly, doing a small little dance. If Shindou were in the room with you he'd no doubt comment about how silly you looked, but you wouldn't care a bit. This was everything you dreamed of, and you felt like you were on top of the world right now.

“That's great, Y/N,” Shindou said, very clearly not as excited as you were. “So I guess that means you're not coming to Ketsubutsu, huh?”

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, guess not. I mean, I really would love to go to school with you, but Ketsubutsu is so far, and—“

“UA is your dream school, I get it! You don't have to make any excuses; if I were in your situation I'd choose UA too,” Shindou laughed. “Just don't get it in your head that this makes you better than me, alright? I may not be your senpai anymore, but I still have a year of experience on you.”

“If you say so,” you giggled. “Just get ready, I'll catch up with you before you know it. We gotta be on the same level when we team up, you know?”

Shindou chuckled. “True, true. I'll put in a good word for you with Yoroi Musha then. We’ll be able to get used to working together if he extends an internship offer to you.”

“Pfft, you won't need to! He'll be so blown away when he sees me at the Sports Festival this year, he’ll be begging to have me join,” you claim. Sure, you may have been exaggerating a bit there. After all, having the Number 8 Pro Hero as a mentor would be a very big deal. But you were confident in your skills, and Shindou made it sound so wonderful whenever he told you of his experiences working with the hero. You remember celebrating the night Shindou told you he'd been offered an internship at his agency, and you were still proud of him. He wasn't at the agency anymore, but was extended an offer to return once he'd gotten his provisional license.

“There you go again,” Shindou jokingly chided. “And they wonder why I worry about their ego...”

“Oh, because you're one to talk, right?” you joked back. You heard your dad call for you, and stopped laughing to let out a sigh. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll call back soon, alright?”

“Yeah, talk to you later then. Bye.”

“Bye!” you said, quickly hanging up. You pocketed your phone and moved to exit your room when you caught sight of your acceptance letter. You squealed in excitement. You were gonna be a hero!

You entered Shindou’s apartment, giving a brief bow to Shindou’s mother on your way in. “Thank you for having me over on such short notice!” you thanked her.

She waved it off with a smile. “It's no problem, Y/N,” she said. “You're always welcome here! Besides, after what your class just went through we would've invited you over anyway!” Her eyes narrowed mischievously, and she leaned in and lowered her voice before continuing, “I know he's bad at showing how he really feels, but Yo’s been worried sick ever since the news broke. So I'm sure he'll be more than happy to see you here.”

You flushed at this, nodding in response and laughing nervously. “Haha, well, I guess I'll go see him now then!” You waved goodbye before rushing off in the direction of Shindou’s room. Once outside, you knocked a few times before placing your hand on the doorknob. “Shindou? It's me, Y/N. Can I come in?” you asked. You were met with complete silence. Your furrowed your eyebrows. “Shindou?” You placed your ear to the door, trying to listen for any movement on the other side. Nothing. Concern bubbled within you, and worst-case scenarios ran through your mind. Was your school the only one targeted today? Maybe someone had attacked Shindou without his family noticing. Trying not to panic, you called him once more. When no response came, you announced, “I’m coming in,” before twisting the doorknob and opening the door.

Quickly surveying the room for anything wrong, you sighed in relief at the sight of Shindou asleep in his bed, headphones covering his ears. Once the concern left you, you rolled your eyes in amusement. “Worried sick, huh?” you muttered, shaking your head and making your way over to stand at the side of his bed. Without warning, you flopped onto the bed next to him, throwing your weight into your fall. The mattress springs squeaked in resistance and Shindou was sent a few inches into the air, startling him awake. He ripped his headphones off and raised his hands into fists, seemingly ready for a fight before his eyes landed on you, casually lying in his bed with a devious smirk on your face.

His wide eyes blinked in confusion, and he reached up to rub at them before asking, “Y/N?”

You finally laughed at the confused look on his face. “Hey, Shindou. How was school today?”

At the mention of school, he was wide awake. The look on his face turned serious, and he gave you a slight glare. “I should be the one asking you that! A villain attack?!” He looked you up and down, concern etched into his features. “Are you hurt?”

Your smile turned soft, and you placed your hands on his shoulders. “Look, I’m fine! See? Not a scratch on me!” Except for the one on my back, you thought, but he didn't need to know about that. “As if I’d let some lowlife villain get the best of me!” you scoffed. “Besides, they really didn't know what they were doing with the whole attack. They basically made it easier for us all to fight back.”

Shindou raised an eyebrow, intrigued, yet still concerned. “They did? How?”

You giggled, finding humor in the convenience of the situation. “Okay, I probably shouldn't be laughing because I got really lucky they messed up the way they did, but it's just so perfect! We were at a training facility specifically for rescue training, so there were different zones for different types of disasters. And when the villains first showed up, they had their warper villain separate us into the different zones so they could pick us off individually, and—“

“So they were trying to kill you guys?!” Shindou asked, alarmed.

You sighed, frustrated at the interruption. “Yeah, they were. Anyway,” you continued, ignoring the growing concern in Shindou’s face, “we were all sent to the different disaster zones randomly. And, get this,” you giggled, pausing for dramatic effect, “they sent me to the fire zone.”

Shindou blinked, processing your statement before a bemused grin formed. “They didn't!”

“They did!” you cackled. The two of you laughed together for a few moments, with you hugging your sides. You wiped a tear from your eye, proceeding with your explanation of the day’s events. “Yeah, Ojiro and I took care of those assholes in no time.”

“Ojiro?” Shindou asked.

“Oh yeah, I haven't told you about any of my classmates yet. Ojiro’s got this really cool tail Quirk, and he's insane at martial arts!” You mimed some of the moves you’d seen your classmate perform earlier in the day, a large grin on your face. “With me practically giving them heatstroke and him kicking them into the concrete, they hardly stood a chance against us!” You smiled and leaned back in the bed, hands behind your head as you smiled at the ceiling. “I wasn't the only one who got a convenient placement, either. One of my classmates, Tsuyu, has a frog mutation Quirk. One of the many, many things she can do with her Quirk is swim fast.”

“Oh, let me guess,” Shindou cut in. “Flood zone?”

“Close,” you responded. “Shipwreck.”

Shindou snapped his fingers, muttering, “Damn.” He turned to face you, a small smile on his face. “You really did get lucky today, huh? You're sure you're alright?”

You nodded, returning his smile. “I promise, I'm perfectly fine. Other than this one kid with a really self-destructive Quirk and two of our teachers, nobody got seriously hurt. And those three are gonna be just fine, last I heard.” You let out a dreamy sigh. “Aside from, you know, the threat of death and all, it was cool seeing everyone’s Quirks in action. My classmates are all really cool.”

If you hadn't been staring at the ceiling, you might've noticed a certain glint in Shindou’s eyes. Having known him all your life, you would've immediately recognized the look as one he gets when scheming to himself. However, as you were looking away, he was met with no confrontation as a sly grin formed on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “They do sound pretty cool. Why don't you tell me more about them?”

You laid face down in your bed, unable to face the shame of meeting your friend’s gaze. Such a defeat had been humiliating, broadcast for the whole nation to see your failure. I can never go outside again, you thought. My entire career, down the drain. It was fun while it lasted. You'd survived an attack by villains, but this? This was your downfall.

“Y/N,” groaned Shindou, tired of your dramatics. “You got third place. That's good. What are you so embarrassed about?”

You lifted your head off your pillow to sent him a scathing glare. He rolled his eyes, not at all intimidated. “It wasn't good enough! I only got to the tournament round because Ojiro dropped out, and then I couldn't even last a minute against Todoroki! Me! Losing to the kid with the ice quirk!” You flopped your head back down, heaving another loud sigh into the pillow. “Who’d want to take me on as an intern after that mess I made out there...?” Your voice, muffled by the pillow, barely reached Shindou.

“Well, Yoroi Musha, for one,” Shindou muttered, rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh at the way your head jerked up in surprise.

“Wait, for real?!”

Shindou nodded. “You haven't gotten the offers yet, but he said he was impressed by your performance and thinks you'd be a good fit at the agency. Because, you know, you got third place and did a really good job, Y/N.” He watched as you processed those, waiting for the excited laughter that normally came when you received good news. This was a big deal, after all, and a great opportunity for your career. The laughter never came, however, as he saw you blink in confusion, your eyebrows furrowing. He sighed, realizing the issue. You still weren't satisfied with your performance, and you didn't understand why a high-ranking hero was impressed. Shaking his head, he moved to sit next to you on your bed, forcing you to roll into your back to make room for him. Lightly nudging your shoulder, he got your attention, asking, “Look, let's talk about what happened today. Maybe it'll get you to understand how well you actually did. Forget the second round and start with the first tournament match. Who were you up against?”

You sighed, grabbing your pillow and covering your face with it. “You watched the whole thing, you already know—“

“We’re talking each other through it,” he cut you off, ripping your pillow away. “Now, who did you fight?”

You let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Kaminari Denki. My classmate.”

Shindou nodded. “Quirk?”

“Electricity.”

“And how did you beat him?”

“Kept my distance, since he’s better at short-range combat. Used my Quirk to make the air around us hotter, exhausting him faster and increasing the air’s resistance to electric current, making his attacks slower. I just waited for him to short out at that point,” you recited. You sighed once you finished. “Okay yeah, I did okay in that fight, but what about—?”

“Patience,” Shindou gently said, ruffling your hair as he cut you off yet again. Ignoring your pointed glare and avoiding your hand swatting his away, he nodded. “Next round. Who’d you fight?”

“Iida Tenya. Engine Quirk. I caused his engines to overheat,” you said, covering the questions you knew he'd ask before he got to them. “Harder to target him because he moved too fast, and he nearly got me out of the ring at one point.”

Shindou nodded. “Good, good.” He smiled down at me. “Now, the last round.”

You sighed, turning on your side away from him as your face flushed in embarrassment. “Do we really need to go over this one? It was embarrassing enough living through it.”

Shindou gripped your shoulder, rolling you back and laughing when he saw the pout on your face. “Yes, we do. It's important to understand your failures and learn from them. Can't be a good hero if you don't do that.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “...Fine. Todoroki Shouto. Half-hot, half-cold. I've only ever seen him use his fire against Midoriya, though.” You paused, frown deepening on your face.

Shindou poked your cheek at the corner of your frown, a smirk on his face. “Go on,” he teased.

“When the round started he sent ice to capture me like he did for everyone else. I used my Quirk to melt the ice, but I didn't evaporate it because the steam would have blocked my vision.”

“So the water was still on the floor of the ring?” Shindou asked.

“Yeah. I tried to get closer to him, since he seems like he prefers long-range attacks. Plus if he used his fire, I could've turned that against him. He didn't. And he kept avoiding me while I tried to close the distance until we basically circled the stage.”

“And,” Shindou added, “while this was happening you weren't focused on where you were standing.”

You shook your head. “Nope, just focused on getting closer to him.”

“So when you circled the stage—“

“I ended up back where I started,” you ground out between clenched teeth, “right where the puddle was from the ice I melted.”

“And the puddle?”

“Frozen over.”

“So,” Shindou continued, covering his mouth to try and stifle a laugh. “When you stepped on the ice?”

You sighed, sending him a pointed glare at his poor attempt to hide his laughter. “I fell on my ass, and Todoroki knocked me off the stage with more ice.”

Shindou snorted at the memory. He took in a breath, trying not to laugh too much when you were still embarrassed over the whole situation. “Now, if you had to do something different during that fight, what would you have done?”

You thought for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Well,” you started, “I’d definitely get rid of that puddle, for one.” You continued to think, nodding to yourself. “I could try to do what Midoriya did and wait for him to overuse his ice, instead of chasing him around like I did. He'd either wear himself out from the cold or he'd use his fire, which I could turn against him.” You smiled, proud of yourself for your plan, before the smile dropped and you slammed your face into the pillow again. “Ugh, why didn't I just do that?!”

Shindou rubbed your back soothingly, a slight smirk on his face. “It's alright Y/N,” he said. “Now you know better, and you can probably beat him next time you go against him.”

You lifted your head, and his smirk vanished and was replaced with a smile. You sent him a soft smile, saying, “Thank you, Shindou. This was actually helpful. Think we can do this more often?”

He reached up to ruffle your hair, briefly blocking your view of his face as the smirk returned. “Of course! If you ever wanna go over a training exercise or something else you guys did in class, feel free to reach out.”

You sat up fully and leaned over to pull Shindou into a hug. You buried your face into his shoulder. Shindou blinked in surprise, his smirk dropping, but immediately returned the hug. For a brief moment, he felt a twinge of guilt, and considered telling you his real intentions. He shook his head, dismissing the thought and pulling you closer. They’ll understand eventually, he reasoned to himself.

Over the next couple of months, you'd taken Shindou up on his offer multiple times. After eventful Heroics classes, sparring sessions, or days where you just trained your Quirk, you'd call Shindou or visit his place to talk yourself through the experience. You'd go over the matches you'd win, detailing what strategies you'd used so you could understand which worked and which didn't. You extensively covered the matches you'd lost, analyzing together what your opponents did that got the best of you. Shindou would occasionally interject with his own ideas of how you could have utilized your Quirk, but for the most part he guided you to talk on your own.

When the time came to do your internship, you'd decided to join Yoroi Musha, who—just as Shindou had told you—extended you an offer to join him at his agency. Unfortunately, Shindou’s internship would occur in a different week, so the two of you did not get the chance to work together. Regardless, he continued to encourage you via text when you were free. Your regular analysis was put on a temporary halt, as you were getting plenty of feedback on your performance from your new mentor. Shindou, interestingly enough, did not reach out and offer to begin the conversation as much during this week, even though he was normally very enthusiastic in doing so. You shrugged this off, not seeing this as very unusual. After all, end of term exams had been approaching, and he was probably busy studying. This was a relatively new arrangement, after all.

When your end of term exams passed, however, his enthusiasm returned full force. He insisted you analyze the practical portion of the exam with very close attention to detail.

“After all,” he suggested, “it's not every day you get to fight against a Pro Hero.”

Finding no fault in his logic, you agreed. Interestingly enough, the direction he took when guiding your analysis wasn't what you expected. Rather than focus on the strategies you used against Midnight, Shindou had you focus on how well you worked with your teammate, and how you utilized both of your Quirks to your advantage. It all made sense why, however, after hearing him explain that in the field you'd likely find yourself having to improvise with a partner you haven't worked with before.

“But aren't we going to be partners?” you interjected, eyebrow raised as you teased him.

“Yeah, of course,” he nonchalantly responded. “But there might be times when we get separated for whatever reasons. You gotta learn to work with other people, you know?”

And after detailing how you were able to work together with Sero to win the match, that was the last analysis discussion the two of you would have. You told him about how your class would be going on a forest lodge trip during the summer, so you wouldn't be able to visit until you got back. He pouted when you told him, making you promise you'd visit as soon as you got back.

You giggled, pulling him in for a hug. “Of course!” You leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek, laughing as he blushed. “I know you'll get lonely without me, so I promise not to leave you alone for too long!” Shindou shook his head, muttering under his breath about you being embarrassing, but returned the hug. So you left, with the promise of a swift return and the sharing of any cool stories that happened over the summer.

And then the training camp was attacked. And your classmate was kidnapped. And you, without hesitation, joined your classmates in the rescue attempt. And though your rescue was successful, and you escaped without serious injury, and the villain that leveled the ward, leaving little behind was defeated—

It was all too much. You needed to get away, even if only briefly.

While the teachers made their rounds informing parents of the new dorms on campus, you made your way to Shindou’s apartment. Giving his mother the usual polite greeting, you were startled at her suddenly pulling you into a hug.

“We were so happy,” she said, voice wavering as she held back tears, “to hear that you were safe, Y/N.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, a soft smile on her face. “Yo is in his room. I know you came here to see him and not deal with me crying, so go on ahead.” She shooed you off in the direction of Shindou’s room, so you left her alone. You made your way to his room to see the door cracked open. You were about to announce your presence and walk in, when you heard another voice in the room.

“Wow, you got all that from one person?” The voice was male and was clearly coming from a phone speaker. You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt his phone call, so you stood outside the door and waited for his to finish.

“Yeah, I have a friend in class 1-A over there, and they’ve told me a bunch about their classmates and their Quirks,” you heard Shindou say. “Strengths, weaknesses, fighting styles. All of it.”

“Wow! For real?” exclaimed the voice on the other end. “Are they trying to set up their class to fail or something?”

Shindou laughed in response. “Nah, I don't think they know that the license exam is a competition yet. We've been having these conversations so they can ‘improve their strategy’ when fighting. Which, to be fair,” he said, oh so casually like he wasn't breaking your trust and heart with every word, “we technically are. That's just...not the whole reason, is all.”

A moment of silence from the person on the other end, and you swear you could heart your heart pounding in your ears as the weight of how you'd been betrayed settled on you. The license exam? That’s why he'd been helping you? While you thought you were bonding with someone you'd known your whole life, he was gathering info to use against your class in an exam. To become a hero.

“...Huh. Your friend sounds kinda gullible,” the person on the other end, who you could only guess was one of Shindou’s classmates, finally responded. You scoffed quietly, shaking your head. Gullible. Because it was so wrong to trust that kind of info with someone you shared everything with? With someone who promised you to always be at your side and support you?

At Shindou’s laugh and the response of, “Maybe,” you'd decided you'd heard enough. You stood in front of the door, taking in a deep breath. You wiped at the tears in your eyes, swallowed down the burning pain in your throat, and hesitantly knocked at the door. Silence on the other side. “...Hey, I'll call you back later, okay?” you heard Shindou say into the phone. He must have turned off the speaker, as you heard no response before footsteps made their way to the door, which slowly opened to reveal Shindou on the other side.

Once he saw you, his eyes widened and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/N,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to rest on the back of your head. “You’re okay...” Feeling the burning pain in your throat return, you resisted the urge to shove him away and yell at him over everything you'd overheard. Instead, you hesitantly raised your arms and returned the hug, embracing the warm feeling and trying to gain some sense of comfort in it. You didn't find much.

He eventually pulled away, frowning down at you as he placed his hands on your shoulders. “We were already worried enough when we heard your camp got attacked, but you had to go off and pull some stupid stunt that nearly got yourself killed again?” At your confused look, Shindou’s gaze narrowed on you. “Your dad called my mom. We know about how you and some classmates of yours rescued that Bakugou kid.” He let out a shaky sigh, his grip on your shoulders tightening. He closed his eyes tightly. “Just...don't do something that reckless again.” His eyes opened, and he gave you a small smile. “I can't be part of the best hero duo if my partner goes and gets themself killed, right?”

Still hurt over both his betrayal and how he had the nerve to act concerned about you after just bragging about how he tricked you, it took a bit of effort to put on a convincing smile. You knew, with how long the two of you had known each other, that it wouldn't be enough to convince him, so you pulled him into another hug so he wouldn't have to see it. “I’m fine. I promise I won't do anything like that again. You don't need to worry...”

He pulled away, giving a quick ruffle to your hair before he reached down to grab a bag on the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. “Good. Listen, as much as I’d love to stay, you kinda caught me at a bad time. I have to get back to the agency—my internship actually starts today!” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, and you did your best not to let the fluttering feeling in your chest make you forget what he did to you. “I’ll see ya soon, Y/N!” He waved and jogged over to leave his apartment after saying goodbye to his mother.

You let out a shaky breath once he was gone, the tension of holding in your emotion almost overwhelming. You wanted nothing more at that moment than to go home and have a nice cry session in your room, curtains drawn, with your favorite music playing at full volume. Before you could make your way to the exit, however, you were stopped by a call from Shindou’s mother.

“Oh wait, Y/N, before you go!” She stood in front of you, a DVD case in her hand. “I just found out the other day that Yo never let you see what happened in his school’s Sports Festival!”

Your eyes zeroed in on the blank DVD case, wide in surprise. “Huh. He never even told me that they had one....” Which, now that you thought about it, seemed silly. Every school had a Sports Festival. Especially every hero school. And while most weren't broadcasted, like UA’s and Shiketsu’s were, they would certainly record events for parents to view, right?

Shindou’s mother rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Honestly, I can't imagine why not. He did excellently this year! Sure, there were a few moments he was embarrassed about, but we all watched your performance!” She handed you the DVD case. “Here, we had a spare copy, so I think you should have this one. Enjoy!” She hugged you before sending you on your way, making sure to call out a “Stay safe!” before you closed the door.

Standing outside the apartment, you stared down at the DVD case in your hands. On the disc, you'd be able to watch Shindou and his classmates’ Quirks in action. See how they fight, how they strategize, how they act. Every bit of information Shindou coerced from you, you would be able to watch. And his mother had handed it over with a smile on her face.

A grin developed, and you snickered to yourself. This? This would even the odds. You pulled out your phone, pressing on Midoriya’s contact before typing out a text. ‘Hey, you like analyzing Quirks, right? I have something you might be interested in watching...’

A manic grin was on your face as you dodged a ball thrown by a Ketsubutsu student. Your plan was working perfectly. Your classmates had been thoroughly informed of the Quirks and fighting styles of Ketsubutsu’s class 2-2. While you'd all been caught slightly off guard at how most of the examinees immediately targeted your class, you very quickly recovered and fought back.

You had to suppress a cackle when you saw Tokoyami strike at Nakagame, who quickly collapsed her torso into herself using her Quirk to dodge, only to be struck by Ojiro while her vision was obscured. Midoriya was spot on with his analysis, and your classmates had clearly paid close attention. For every strike they made, your class countered with peak efficiency. Even as Shindou’s Quirk scattered the class, they had prepared beforehand for this scenario and were not too shaken by the attack.

You hit the third target on a Ketsubutsu student, laughing all the while. “One down, one to go!” you cheered, quickly scanning the area to see if any other examinees were nearby. Upon spotting a familiar mess of brown hair out of the corner of your eye, you quickly spun to face Shindou, who was looking at you from a distance away. You got in a stance, ready to fight against him if he attacked. Shindou’s eyes narrowed, glancing between you and his classmate who you'd just defeated. His mouth settled into a frown, and he turned and ran to another area of the stadium.

You'd wanted to smirk at him, taunt him for being outsmarted by your class, but you instead found yourself mirroring his expression and his silence. You'd gotten him back after he tricked you; you should have been happy, right? Proud of yourself? Despite reasoning this to yourself, however, a growing weight filled the void your pride left.

You shook your head, breaking yourself from your thoughts. You didn't have time to think about how seeing Shindou had made you feel. You had one more student to eliminate. You could focus on him later.

Your name was there. On the list, plain as day for all to read. You'd gotten your license, and all your hard work, all the late-night analysis with Midoriya, all the heartache you'd felt over Shindou’s betrayal was worth it.

Your eyes drifted slightly, and you spotted “Shindou Yo” somewhere else on the list. You supposed all of Shindou’s preparation paid off for him, too.

After obtaining your license, you followed the rest of your class to the bus to return to the dorms. Before boarding, you caught sight of Shindou again. He was speaking to Nakagame, you noticed you and gave an awkward smile and wave. Shindou turned to see who she was waving at, and his eyes widened when he saw you. You two stared each other down for a brief moment, before you broke the tension by turning to board the bus.

The weight in your chest felt heavier now.

The weight of the many presents you carried in your arms was only slightly heavier than the dread settling in your gut. Unwilling to admit to the tensions between you and Shindou, you couldn't come up with a plausible excuse to break the tradition your families had held for many years. Based on the warm greeting Shindou’s parents gave you when they finally answered the door, you assumed that Shindou hadn't told his parents either. You stepped inside and let the warm air rush over you, bringing feeling back into your numb fingertips and increasing the unnerving feeling in you.

“Shindou, don't be rude! Help Y/N out with those presents! Poor thing looks like they’re about to drop them,” Shindou’s mom scolded him, drawing your attention to where he'd been standing in the far corner of the room, partially obscured by the Christmas tree. You saw his mouth settle into a firm line; not quite a frown, but definitely showing discomfort. He pushed off the wall he'd been leaning against and made his way over to you. As he held out his hands to you, you stared at him dumbfoundedly. Here he was, standing in front of you after months of not speaking to each other, and he doesn't even say hello.

You were broken out of your thoughts by him clearing his throat. “You gonna hand them over, or...?” he trailed off, raising an eyebrow. You startled a bit, nearly dropping a present or two with how quickly you shoved the pile into his arms. As you saw him struggle to keep the pile balanced, you flushed in embarrassment and walked away, moving over to where your parents were engaged in a jovial conversation with Shindou’s.

Shindou’s mom saw you and smiled, holding out two steaming mugs of hot chocolate to you. “Just in time! I made these just the way you two like them. Oh, careful!” she warned, handing them over to you. “They're still pretty hot. Well, not that that would be an issue for you, but still...Anyway, why don't the two of you catch up on your own? We haven't seen you in a while, so I'm sure you have a lot to talk about!”

The cheer in her smile was something you couldn't help but smile and nod in return at, taking the mugs from her with a soft “Thanks,” and making your way over to the couch by the tree, where Shindou was sitting.

His eyes followed you the whole way over, not looking away as you approached. You, on the other hand, struggled to meet his eyes as you handed his mug to him. He accepted it, giving you a small nod before taking a sip. You stood where you were, bringing the cup to your lips to take a sip when you noticed his raised eyebrow. You returned it, asking, “What?” He tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the empty seat on the couch next to him. You blinked. An “oh” left your lips, and you slowly moved to sit in the small space next to him on the couch.

As you settled into your spot, you tried leaving a small amount of space between you two, though your knee still brushed against his. You spared a glance over at Shindou, only to see him staring intently at the mug in his hands. A small sigh left your lips, and you raised your mug to take a sip. The scalding feeling on your tongue, while not capable of actually hurting you, was a comfortable distraction from the awkward situation you found yourself in. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, with the only sounds heard being the distant chatter of your parents and the low hum of the heater. It was awkward, yes, but neither of you had mentioned the obvious source of tension yet. Maybe, you thought, today wouldn't be too unbearable.

“So, Y/N...” Shindou began, breaking the silence and shattering all your hopes of the evening being salvaged. “I think we both know exactly how my classmates got their info on yours...”

You snorted, lifting the mug to your lips. “Yeah, I know.” You took a long sip, hoping the burning feeling traveling down your throat might push down the angry words that wanted to come out. “Something about a ‘gullible friend in 1-A who doesn't realize this is all a competition’, right?” It didn't help much.

For a moment you thought you saw him cringe, and you heard a mutter along the lines of “...didn’t think you’d hear that...” before seeing him shake his head. “Anyway, I wanted to know how your class seemed so ready for the exam. You all were so coordinated with your attacks, like you knew our Quirks and strategies beforehand.”

You hummed, before raising an eyebrow and shooting him a smirk. “You know, I don't really think I owe you an explanation after what you did.”

Shindou visibly deflated, letting out a sigh and nodding. “Yeah, that's fair.”

You nodded with him. “But!” you began, a grin forming when you saw him perk up. “You probably know better than anyone how much I love bragging whenever I beat you at your own game.” Shindou pulled a face somewhere between a grimace and a smile, seemingly happy he'd get his answer yet embarrassed at the reminder of how thoroughly his plan failed. “Remember that day I dropped by after the Kamino Ward attack, and you headed off to your internship?” At his nod, your grin turned devious. “Well, your mother oh so graciously offered to let me watch the footage from your school’s Sports Festival this year. She gave me a spare DVD.”

His eyes widened comically, glancing over to where his parents were, causing you to cackle. “Seriously?” he asked. “That's all it took? We couldn't even get that much info from your Sports Festival, that's why we came up with that whole scheme in the first place!”

You nodded. “True, but I guess you all don't have a strategist like Midoriya in your class.”

Shindou raised an eyebrow. “The bone-breaking kid?”

You waved a hand. “He doesn't do that anymore. At least, not that often...but that's beside the point. I texted him about the DVD, let him borrow it, and he came up with plans to counter your classmates in the exam.”

Shindou blinked, processing your words. “Wow,” he started. He blinked a few more times before taking a sip from his mug. “That was pretty smart, I guess. He even planned for Makabe and Tokegi’s joint attack, and they've been working on that since the first year!”

You gave a confused hum, not quite sure who he was referring to before it hit you. “Oh! The ones with the boomerang and hardening Quirks, right?” At his nod, you grinned at the opportunity to ramble about strategy. “Well, the boomerang Quirk is kinda similar to Snipe-sensei’s, and we’ve had experience dodging his Quirk before. Also, while the hardening Quirk isn't exactly like my classmate Kirishima’s, it seemed like the hardness was similar enough. And since Ashido accidentally burned Kirishima once in a training accident even though he was using his Quirk, we figured if her acid was corrosive enough it could get past your classmate’s Quirk easily enough.” You paused your take a breath, devious grin widening further. “You all didn't take the corrosiveness into account because she kept it pretty low for the Sports Festival, and when you fished information from me about her I didn't know how corrosive it could be. We were pretty lucky on that part, but I still think we could've done just as well even if you had known.”

Shindou nodded. “You're right, then. You really did beat me at my own game.” He smiled at you and lightly nudged you with his elbow. “Not bad, Y/N.”

You smiled back, before the burning feeling in your chest returned with full force. Your smile dropped, and you turned away from him again. “Yeah, well, me outsmarting you after you tricked me doesn't exactly mean what you did was okay.” You clenched the mug tightly in your grip, bringing it close to your chest. The hot chocolate had gone cold during your conversation, and you stared down into it while trying to ignore the stinging tears in your eyes. “You said we’d be heroes together. Partners. What kind of hero sabotages their partner?”

Shindou’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for what to say. “Y/N, I didn't...I mean, I wasn't trying to—“ he stammered, before you cut him off.

“But you did,” you cut him off. The mug trembled in your hands as you accidentally used your quirk, and steam began rising from it again. “You took my trust and used it against me and my classmates. And for what? There were so many other schools there you could've gone after. Hell, we could've teamed up and gone after them together! But it was more convenient to just use me, I guess.”

Shindou’s frown deepened. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, only to quickly retract with a hiss at the heat you were giving off. Startled, you quickly stopped using your Quirk and gave him an apologetic frown. “Sorry,” you muttered. You sighed deeply, leaning your head back against the couch. “I guess I'm no better, huh? Your parents were being nice and I took advantage of that...”

Silence hung in the air. Both of your parents had left the room a while ago, and the droning of the heater settled into the background unnoticed. Shindou’s hand found its way to your shoulder again, more hesitant this time. When you didn't respond or shrug him off, he slowly pulled you closer to him, hand moving to your head and gently resting it on his shoulder. You frowned, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again, but didn't resist.

“I'm sorry,” Shindou said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You snuggled closer to him in response, staying quiet. He lightly ran his fingers through your hair. When he was sure you weren't going to say anything in response, he continued, “Not that it means much to say this now, but congratulations on getting your license.” You snorted at the statement, many months too late. He lightly chuckled, saying, “Yeah, I know. But even though we haven't exactly been working together, it's been nice having you at the agency. Nakagame won't shut up about her ‘cute new sidekick’, even though we’re all sidekicks.”

You snickered. “Looks like I'm stealing your friend. Maybe she'll be my hero partner when we graduate...”

Shindou rolled his eyes. “If anything, she's trying to steal you from me. Not like that’s gonna happen. You're my partner, got that?”

You lifted your head slightly from his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at him. “Oh, am I now?”

Shindou nodded. “I promised you, didn't I? I know I've been a major idiot lately,” he started, ignoring your muttered comment of “Yeah, no kidding...” and continuing, “but if the two of us work together we’re gonna top the charts in no time.”

You smiled at him, leaning back on his shoulder. “Well, I'm looking forward to that!” You closed your eyes and let out a breath, feeling the tension wash away from you. Shindou’s head tilted, resting atop yours. Things weren't perfect, and you would probably need to have a more in-depth conversation later, but for now, things were better.

“Oh, Shindou?”

“Hm?”

“I gotta say, your performance at the Sports Festival could've been better. We have a lot of work to do if we're gonna top the charts.”

“...Shut up...”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #shindou yo #shindou yo x reader #shindou you #shindou you x reader #bnha x reader #bnha reader insert

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bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

It’s More About Looks Than Skill (VIII)

Pairing: Ryuk/Reader

Summary: Ryuk finds himself gaining feelings for Light Yagami’s best friend, but she doesn’t know he exists. When he makes the grave mistake of touching her, he makes things a lot more complicated.

Notes: I’m back... I told you I wasn’t giving up on this fic, I just needed some time to get over myself. I’ve plotted down the whole story and its ending, so you don’t have to worry about me not finishing this. It might take some time, but I’ll try not to post once every two months. Sorry, once again!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! If I wasn’t able to tag you, please check your settings and send me another ask.

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad, @rustypotatospork @mantisandthemoondragon @baby-queen-girl @itscalledtrust @emilyshurley @killtherandomness @selmeuuh @felicity291 @mahou-no-momo @bakarinnie @beccawinter @chantelle-c333 @ria-demon29

Chapter VIII

It wasn’t until she’d said goodbye to Soichiro and stepped through the hospital doors into the night’s breeze, did she hear Light speak again. She was standing miraculously placed behind a large bush, where they wouldn’t notice her. It seemed the young man waited to see if anyone stepped through the doors before deciding to continue his talk with the God of death hovering in the air behind him.

“Ryuk.”

“Hm?”

“I never once felt cursed since I picked up the Death Note. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, all thanks to this power. I’m going to create a perfect world.”

“Honestly, I could care less whether you feel cursed or happy to have a notebook. I’ll leave that sentimental crap to you humans. But… Normally humans who come into contact with a Shinigami have nothing but misfortune.”

“That’s interesting. But I have no intentions of repeating that pattern.”

She only allowed her lungs to release the air they’d been holding long after she could no longer hear his footsteps walking off. And only then did she allow herself to finally feel what she’d felt in the pit of her stomach all this time; fear.

***

“Are you seeing this?” Lights voice carried over the walkie-talkie, but her attention was directed entirely towards what the TV in front of her was broadcasting. Since phones had become a danger as of late, she’d suggested going for a more old-school approach, if it was only to be able to contact Light when her house was feeling a bit too empty. Which was happening more and more frequently.

She hummed in response.

“Even if you don’t agree with me, all I ask is that you not publicise your views in the media. If you can do that, you will be spared. All you have to do now, is be patient. I will create a better world that we can all enjoy. Say goodbye to the world as you know it. Soon, we’ll have a new world ruled by benevolence inhabited by kind-hearted, honest people. Try to imagine it; a world where the police and I-“

“Switch channels. Now.”

She did as was asked of her, and was faced with the collapsed figure of Ukita, a taskforce member she’d just met only a few days prior. “Light… you didn’t-?”

“Of course it’s not me, you fool. I wouldn’t be so reckless. Now L will think I don’t need a name to kill someone. This impersonator is ruining all my plans!”

“Calm down, Light. This might work in our favour. You and I both know L will take all possibilities into consideration, so it could very well be that he’s already figured out about this person acting as a second Kira.”

“Ryuk-“ she heard some muffled noises in the background, “-didn’t give another Death Note to anyone, did you?”

“I only had two,” she could make out, “and I’m surely not stupid enough to give away my second one.”

“Light, please look back at the screen.”

“Hm?”

“A vehicle has just driven through the front of the station!”

“Well, that’s one way to stop the broadcast.”

It took a while, but eventually a police car arrived at the scene. And another, and another, until the whole building was surrounded.

“That’s… Soichiro? Light, that’s your father!”

“There you have it! The police refused to cooperate with Kira! Instead, they are prepared to fight. And, as much as I fear for my own life while saying so, this is right, and it must be done! Kira has become a very threat to our constitution, and as citizens, we must fight back. I am NHN’s Golden News anchor, Kouki Tanakabara.”

***

“I can only say it’s a shame that the answer is no, it’s clear that the police wish to oppose me.”

“How and why is this being broadcasted?” she asked, scooting Light’s chair closer to the television on his desk. It was the next day, and Sakura TV was airing the Kira imposer’s tapes once more.

“This will not go unpunished. So, I’ll start by either taking the life of the director-general of the NPA, or the detective known as L, who is currently leading the investigation against me. The director-general, or L? Who will pay the price in your refusal to cooperate in the creation of a peaceful world? You have four days to decide.”

Light let out a small chuckle. “You were right all along. There is no need to worry.”

“Really?”

“It would appear that another Shinigami has come to the human world, and somehow that Shinigami’s Death Note has fallen into the hands of someone who agrees with Kira. And this person most likely the Shinigami Eyes, which makes him very deadly. His power to kill surpasses even mine.”

“Or her,” she corrected him, to which he rolled his eyes.

“One thing is for certain, if I leave things I’m pretty sure L will be finished off within the next four days. However, I can’t forgive this imposter for the way he’s tarnishing Kira’s image with his senseless killings. Not to mention if he slips and gets caught, the Death Note will be discovered and that I can’t allow. I cannot afford to leave him alone for much longer.”

“Oh, now I definitely hope it’s a girl. If only to watch you struggle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t struggle with girls,” he protested.

“You’re right. But let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me if you turned out gay.”

“Please do shut up.”

***

It wasn’t long before L had invited both of them to his secret location. They were currently standing in front of the quirky hotel, after a reasonably lengthy train ride.

“I suppose your father couldn’t have just picked us up?” she asked.

Light shook his head. “That would’ve looked too suspicious. Right now, it just looks like we’re trying to escape our parents by booking a hotel room.”

“Aw, Light,” she cooed, latching onto his arm playfully, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He pulled up his nose in irritation, and she felt the Shinigami that had been holding her hand subtly stiffen. “What- what does that mean?”

“Don’t even bother asking, Ryuk,” Light replied.

“I’ll remind you to behave, Light,” she reminded him, “L probably knows this Kira is a copycat because of the fact that they didn’t need a name to kill the person, and you’d do well to think about the possibility that he might have wanted for that last tape to be broadcasted. I’m not sure how you’re going to get out of this one, as you can either choose to be ignorant, or speak up about your ‘deductions’.”

“Hm.”

“God, I hope it’s gonna be a girl.”

***

A short introduction followed between Light and the task force, as she simply gave them all a polite smile. She’d told Light briefly about them, as they’d met once or twice when she had her meetings in the café with L beforehand. At first, Light had been appalled by the fact that she knew more about these men that he did, but eventually did accept the fact that he now had someone who was apparently a more trusted figure in L’s mind.

And as expected, tapes were shown to both of them.

“Do you mind if I ask Light to make his deductions first?” L asked her.

She shook her head. “I understand. You’ve talked to me more than you have with Light. Go ahead.”

“So, what do you make of this, Light? Have you come to any conclusions?”

…

…It’s a test.

“It’s hard to say, but there might be another person out there with Kira’s power.”

And so it begins.

You may also write the cause and/or details of death prior to filling in the name of the individual. Be sure to insert the name in front of the written cause of death. You have about 19 days (according to the human calendar) in order to fill in a name.

“Are you sure you’re gonna pull this off? Pretending to be Kira, I mean?” she nudged him jokingly.

“I sure hope so. As long as I don’t start stuttering like I used to when I was a kid while we go live,” Light replied, almost too innocently. She knew all he wanted to do right now was strangle her for her comment, which is why she made it now; so he couldn’t.

“You used to stutter? Doesn’t seem very like you, Light,” L noted.

“Oh, he did,” Soichiro fondly recalled, “I remember those two reading out loud in Light’s room, giving a presentation to a whole group of stuffed animals, until he stuttered no more. I was so proud of you that day.”

Light shifted in embarrassment, clearly wanting this conversation to go back to business. “Ryuuzaki, does this look okay? I think I managed to make it believable.”

L picked up the sheet of paper. “Hm, I think you’ve done an excellent job with this. However, if we don’t omit the part that says, ‘you’re free to kill L’, then I’m gonna end up dead.”

What a dumbass.

Light laughed accordingly, “Sorry, I guess I got carried away playing the part. I figured if I was him I’d probably demand that he be killed. I was improvising, feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“Sounds good. Say, just to make sure nothing happens, I’d have Aihara read the script during broadcast. It’s just as a precaution.”

“Of course.”

What a shame.

***

They’d sat down in front of the television once more, which seemed to be a more regular occurrence these days. Soichiro met her gaze.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea when your parents are coming back?”

She shook her head, “They usually let me know the day before. Their schedules are too erratic these days to be able to plan home visits ahead.”

She knew he pitied her when she’d said ‘home visits’. Parents shouldn’t be visiting their home. They should visit work, and be home.

“But they let me know they’re getting all of the divorce papers finalized, and that because of their absence they think it would be best to keep the house until I move out.”

“Your parents are getting divorced?” Light asked, genuinely surprised, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “They told me when we still weren’t on speaking terms because of our fight. Guess it slipped my mind.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay at our house, if you’re missing the comfort,” Soichiro reminded her, for which she was grateful. “I was wondering though - and please tell me if I’m stepping out of line here - haven’t you connected with anyone else yet in school?”

“…Connected, sir?”

“W-Well, you know what I mean-“

“…Oh, uh- No, not really.”

“Well, it’s not any of my business anyway, but while your father is gone, please do tell me if you need me to give a young man a stern look.”

She giggled quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, mister Yagami. But I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“That reminds me,” Light said, “I think I kind of promised someone you’d go out with them.”

“What?”

Ryuk held his breath.

#Death Note #dn #L #lawliet #ryuk #ryuk x reader #light #light yagami #yagami light #ryuzaki #light x reader #l x reader #lawliet x reader #shinigami #anime #manga #god of death #It's More About Looks Than Skill #imalts

332 notes · View notes

starkerintheparker · 4 years

Text

starker reclist - PWP

What better way to celebrate RDJ’s bday than spreading some pwp love, amirite :D I decided to just share these without the usual commentary because there are only so many ways to praise hot smut and I’m not that well versed in English lol. Some fics are plottier, some are porn with feels, others are unapologetic filth. Suffice to say they are all sublime and top notch wanking material, 10/10 recommend. Please mind the tags and stay safe. Happy meals! 😈

Last updated: April 25th, 2020. All new additions will be marked with ***

• a little bit scandalous by @paspleurer (3k, completed)

Summary: “What do you think about dessert? I’m thinking the creme brulee, but—”

“You could eat my ass,” says Peter. "After you've already come inside of it."

Tony sets the menu down on the table with jarring force.

• A Special Love by @darker-soft-starker (completed)

Summary: “You know - the thing where I tell you that I’m too old to be kissed on the lips,” Peter answers, reaching out linking their hands together over the gearstick. "Where I tell you none of the other fathers kiss their sons like we do and isn’t it weird?”

Author’s warning: Incest roleplay (no actual incest), semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public foreplay, armour kink, slight incidental daddy kink, nff.

• Babysitter (AU) by @readysetstarker (5.4k, completed)

Summary: Tony was desperate. Ten minutes before he was supposed to leave for work, brushing his daughter’s hair in the bathroom and promising her a fun day at the zoo with her babysitter (he had already paid for the tickets online, the receipt for them sitting on the counter), he had gotten the call that she wouldn’t be showing up. He needed to be at work to negotiate a deal with investors, they needed him there, but she had been adamant about not showing up and hung up on him mid-plea.

• Ballerina!Peter and Construction worker!Tony (AU) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed) Part 2 is winterironspider

Author’s warnings: mild dub con (super mild, Peter turns out to be a mega-slut and we love it), innocent peter, feminisation, multiple orgasms, rimming, mild cock warming, mild cock-slapping.

• Berries and Cream by @stfustucky (5k, completed)

Summary: There's no way in hell they're going to fit all the Avengers into two cars, not unless Peter sits on Tony's lap. And there's no way in hell Tony is going to survive the ride all the way back to the tower unless Peter stops squirming like that. Unfortunately for Tony, Peter doesn't seem inclined to sit very still tonight. Whoops.

• Breaking Character (AU) by @cagestark (8k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

• Bruisable and Sweet by @bloomblood (completed)

Summary: Tony has a meal in Peter’s humble, college dormitory bed.

• Captured (AU) by @areluctantsblog (1k, completed)

Summary: In another a universe, reluctant as he may be, Peter Parker has to find out that being Spider-Man inevitably means being a celebrity, too. As far as he’s concerned, the only good thing resulting from this is that from time to time he gets the chance to lay eyes on the fashion industry’s most handsome face, that of photographer Tony Stark’s. When one day Peter is sent on a photo-shoot with the living legend, things take an interesting turn.

• Coming Untouched by @starker-stories (4k, completed)

Summary:

“So, is it true?”

“Which thing? I presume you stood there, outside the door, eavesdropping on our entire conversation,” Peter said, miffed.

“That you can make yourself come without touching yourself even once during your… session?”’

• Context Clues (A/B/O) by Anonymous (8k, completed)

Summary: Peter is crying. Those had been FRIDAY's exact words, and the reason Tony had run upstairs and bypassed the privacy lock on the kid's door. Context is kind of everything.

• Desperado (AU) by @starkercrossedlovers (completed)

Summary: Desperado Tony come to town and takes Peter with him when he goes.

• Drabbles by @starkerforlife6969 (290k, ongoing)

Summary: These are all starkerforlife6969’s tumblr drabbles/stories in one collection, aside from the Mafia Boss One. Mostly starker, but there will be winterspider and spidershield and spiderstrange.

• Eight Stops (to make you mine) (A/B/O) by @starkerkeyz and @the-mad-starker (9k, completed)

Summary: He clutches onto the alpha's forearm and gives Tony another nip, harsher with his spiked up desires. "Eight stops," he tells the alpha, "that's all the time we got. Think that's enough…?" They can only have a quickie but Peter thinks it just might be the best sex he's ever going to get. He gives the alpha's cock another squeeze, trying to convince him to say yes. "Plenty." Tony unbuckles Peter's pants one handed, smirking against pale skin. He rubs his stubble into the omega's lightly bitten scent gland just to rile him up.

• From Across the Bar by @readysetstarker (3k, completed)

Summary: Tony took a slow sip and listened to a pair of new broadcasters talk about upcoming sports games and a player’s most recent scandal about steroid use. He couldn’t have cared less, personally, but there was nothing else on and he wasn’t really here to watch television. Not if the cute brunette trying to scope him out without being noticed had anything to say about it.

• From Thy Bounty by @ibby-writes and feyrelay (30k, completed)

Summary: Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

• Further Assistance by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Besides, it would be unethical not to tell Peter what he saw, right? He’s pretty sure that would violate some sort of boundary. And if the kid wants to go down the path of creative experimentation, it’s kind of Tony’s duty to make sure he does it safely. He basically has to help.

• half doomed and you’re semi sweet by noctiphany (2k, completed) underage

Summary: “Peter,” Tony says, his tone flat, and Peter shudders. “Peter,” Tony says again, impatient and with a hint of threat. “I’m waiting.

• Heal Me by Mezzymet (7k, completed)

Summary: His love for the man probably bordered on hero worship but....you could love someone and not be in love with them. Obviously.

• I could be your whore, Mr. Stark by @stfustucky (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter needs a cover story for his shady behavior as Spidey, and half the school thinks he's an escort anyways, so Peter just leans into the rumors. Tony, being the good friend and teammate that he is, agrees to corroborate the cover story by letting everyone think Peter is his own personal slut.

• Indulge Me by @learned-foot (370 words, completed)

Summary: Peter likes it best when Mr. Stark is rough and taking. Read it together with Under Someone Else.

• Jealousy is Ugly (Except When It's Not) by @yadds (4k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a boyfriend. Tony can't stand it.

• Kinktober 2019 by @readysetstarker (38k, completed)

The whole list is amazing, my personal favorites are the glorious upskirt/semi public sex (ch 6). the breathtaking mirror sex (ch 7) and the sweet praise kink (ch 9).

• Just a little bit, just enough by @bitter-lemon-water (25k, completed)

Summary: So somewhere in between devastation, uncertainty, fear and disconcertment—Peter settles. Alternatively: Tony pulls. (Peter lets him.) (Peter wants him to.)

• Just Listen to Me by LeafyGreenQueen773 (3k, completed)

Summary: After the spider bite, Peter's senses are “dialed to eleven”. That includes in bed. Peter talks Tony through what feels best to him.

• Later for later by @unsettledink (15k, completed) sex pollen, top!Peter

Summary: “You,” Peter says, again, mouthing at Tony's skin. “I want you. I trust you. This is a terrible, terrible idea, Tony knows. The worst. And yeah he's normally all for terrible ideas, but this is… no. (The one where Peter gets hit with a sex drug, and Tony is not prepared for this shit.)

• Me, You & A Tattoo by @starkeristheendgame (4k, completed)

Summary: Peter gets Tony's name tattooed on his ass after a not-bet with MJ. Really, it was just a matter of time before Tony found out.

• Morning (A/B/O) by @starkerstarkerstarker (completed)

Summary: Peter’s breath hitches, eyes on him like he expected him to do more, but when he doesn’t, when all he does is lift a brow, he frowns, his bottom lip pushing out. “If you want something, princess, go ahead.”

• No Control by @paspleurer (500 words, completed)

Summary: Mr. Stark’s conditions are simple— no touching himself, and no talking. And Peter wants to be good, he really does— but his senses make it so hard.

• Paint my Body Gold by @spidey-stuff (14 k, completed)

Summary: Tony is desperate to rid himself of his inappropriate attraction before the last barrier holding him back crumbles as Peter's 18th birthday rapidly approaches.

• Perfect by @learned-foot (639 words, completed)

Summary: There are a lot of things that should make Peter embarrassed right now, starting with the fact that the first time Mr. Stark kissed him—about half an hour ago, though it feels like another world—he came in his pants within seconds.

• Peter in Heat (A/B/O) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed)

Summary: Peter’s presenting and Tony knows exactly how to take care of him.

• Red Light District series (AU) by @starker-stories (17k, ongoing)

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy who has dozens of women passing through his life and through his bed. What everyone doesn't know is that Tony Stark is deeply closeted, longing for something he can't ever have -- a life and a love with another man.

• Reversal by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Sometimes, Tony is the one who needs to be praised.

• Still Use Work by @learned-foot (6.5k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• Sweet for me, my Honeybee by garbagesinboy (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter's got a sweet tooth, and Tony's got a problem. In which Peter Parker consumes way more sugar than the average human ever should, and Tony Stark suffers many many boners.

• Tremolo by @lilsoshie and @marvlouse (4k, completed)

Summary: “You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.”

“Tony,” Peter says, a complaint, an exhausted plea.

• The Third Idea by @cagestark (12k, completed)

Summary: Tony walks in on Peter jerking off twice in one week, and realizes that his lover needs a little more from him. So he gives him less; a week without cumming should do it.

• This fire is out of control by feyrelay (2k, completed) sex pollen

Summary: There's really not enough room in their hiding spot to fuck, but Peter's temperature is rising from whatever they've been given, and Tony-Well, Tony's determined.

• Once Upon a Time, there was a Sloshed Bunny and a Guilty Man by @starkerchemistry (completed)

Summary: drunk!Peter dirty talks Tony on the phone.

• Up to Eleven by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG (15k, completed)

Summary: He watches those five minutes. Watches them again, and again. Tries to tell himself that he’s seeing something other than what FRIDAY is showing him.

• wasn’t built in a day by orphan_account (7k, completed) dubcon

Summary: Peter files “massive hard-on for Tony Stark” under “things I can’t tell Aunt May.” It’s tied at the top of the list with “I’m Spider-Man” and “I’m responsible for Uncle Ben’s death.”

• Weird by tuesday (2k, completed)

Summary: It wasn't weird, okay? A lot of people wanted to have sex with the Iron Man armor. A lot. There were entire forums and Instagram and Twitter accounts dedicated to it. There had been internet wars fought solely over which Mark was the sexiest. There was endless speculation over whether Tony Stark was among their number and whether and how he actually had outfitted one of the armors with the ability to make good on all that sleek, sexy promise.

It wasn't weird.

"It's a little weird," Tony said.

• what’s the point of a clear raincoat with no hood? by CarnivalGoldfish (7k, completed)

Summary: Tony buys Peter clothes because he likes Peter wearing what he bought him. Peter realizes this is not normal.

*** when the world has dealt its cards by thisismydesignn (3k, completed) underage

Summary: Tony Stark has never claimed to be a role model, let alone a good influence. Case in point...

• You Learn Something New Every Day by @sbiderslut (4k, completed)

Summary: This man looks right at them and remarks, happily unaware of the kiloliter can of worms he just RPG-ed wide open, “The bond between you and Mr. Parker is truly remarkable, Tony. You could practically be father and son.”

• Your Eyes Only by tuesday (4k, completed)

Summary: It was an accident. Tony did not, as a rule, check up on Peter these days, and while he had kept the monitoring programs, they were there in case of emergency.

#starker #reclist #peter parker x tony stark

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 4 years

Text

Rose Puppetry

*saunters onto your dashboard*

sooooo who ordered the Nuts and Dolts Steampunk AU?

@misstrashchan

(chapter 1 of 2, bc when you get over 1k words and are still on build-up, you may as well just split the fic into two chapters - well that and I really need to tend to my other fics too, but want to share this one now)

I’m gonna make y’all wait for that sweet sweet satisfying closure

(also, forgot to mention, this is roughly inspired by the Mechanism’s Once Upon a Time (In Space) album - do with that information whatever you’d like)

Blinding sunlight glares into everyone’s eyes as the drop ship ascends above the heavy cloud of pollution fog ever present over Mantle and cuts into the crisp, clear, blue sky. The men among them wince and shield their eyes. The rewired Mantle Street Soldier Units (MSSU-132s) don’t react at all. Penny adjusts her eyes’ aperture until she can see perfectly again.

It’s been a while since any of them have seen daylight. Mantle’s manufacturing plants create and maintain a thick smog that tends to absorb anything but rain too hard to be stopped. Atlas Prime’s bulking shadow, too, stops most any light from reaching its sister city’s streets.

Their pilot cloaks their ship and gives Penny her cue. She begins emitting radio interference that should make them undetectable to Atlesian scanners. They fly toward the dominating stronghold in the sky. No one who can breath does so very loudly, as if they’ll be heard over the increasingly loud whir and whine of Prime’s great Flight Engines.

Atlas Prime, formerly just the City of Atlas, can be considered one of the greatest marvels in the world. An entire city in the sky, kept aloft by the largest, most powerful steam engines to ever exist. A century ago, its founders built Atlas as a symbol of innovation, one meant to inspire future generations to look up and dream of what they could accomplish if only they applied themselves. Though their aspirations and intent were genuine, those distinguished inventors failed to take into account the sheer amount of resources maintaining the City of Atlas would require as it grew.

In the beginning, historical documents claimed, Atlas’s needs led to an economic boom in Mantle, as money flowed freely from the flying city to pay for everything it took. Then, something (the relinquishing of the Schnee Dust Company from its founder into his son-in-law’s hands, a handful of brave historians who no one has heard from since, claimed) changed.

Atlesians, growing content and complacent in their power, started to hoard their wealth. They paid less, demanded more, and drove independent, Mantle-run businesses into the ground when they refused to comply with Atlesian wishes. It wasn’t long until Mantle became little more than a collection of mass production factories kept firmly under Atlas’s thumb after that.

The hunger of Atlas, though, is known to this day to be an insatiable beast. Mantle could provide it with building materials and fuel, but their shared location in bitter Solitas meant food beyond what arctic creatures could be hunted or the scarce few crops that would grow in their soil was an impossibility.

Thus, the Atlesian Conquest began.

The elderly, Mantle’s grandmothers and grandfathers, when they have a rare moment of rest, will sit and rasp out the story of the day Beta Atlas detached from Prime and flew off into the horizon in the direction of Vacuo. Not to return before news of the invasion into the desert kingdom filtered back to Mantle’s streets.

Beta Atlas was only the first of the Atlesian war machines. Since its launch, fortresses too numerous to count have been built and flown off to conquer Remnant. Every now and then, reports of new victories or surrenders will play on the nightly news radio broadcast.

Vacuo remains stubbornly independent, despite all the General King of Atlas’s best efforts. Although, it’s rumored Vacuo’s once fabled oasis have all been drained and little more of worth remains in the desert. Thus, without anything of too much interest to keep it, Atlas’s attention has turned elsewhere.

Mistral signed a treaty with Atlas as quickly as it could, and thus remains untouched by war. No one knows how long that will last. No one in Mantle believes it will. The people of Mistral, Mantle’s inhabitants whisper amongst themselves, are fooling themselves if they think Atlas will let anyone remain out of its complete, dominating control for long.

However, that’s a fight for another time. Currently speaking, Atlas’s eye is transfixed upon Vale, where its conquest has met strong resistance. Despite having lesser technology available to them, the Huntsmen Army of Vale have fought Atlesian forces back again and again. Stories have spread about Vale’s legendary huntsmen and huntresses and their clever tactics. They might not be stronger or more powerful than Atlas’s robotic forces, but they’re definitely smarter. Unpredictable.

For the first time in a very long time, there’s whispers of hope that something might be able to stop Atlas.

Penny finds and clasps her hand around the gold locket she wears around her neck, without taking the trinket out from under her shirt. It would shimmer and shine and draw too much attention if she were to do that. But, holding onto it grounds her, reminds her of her mission.

Penny once believed in Atlas. She was built to carry out its will. Sent to Vale long before the first flying war fortress, and disguised as a regular, human girl. Her mission was to observe and spy. She’d been programmed with curiosity, to learn as much as she could. And she had. Too much, in fact.

For her entire existence up to her deployment in Vale, all Penny knew was solitude. Unlike the rest of Atlas’s automated army, she wasn’t mass-produced. Penny is the singular product of blueprints uncovered in what was revealed to be the long lost workshop of Pietro Polendina, one of the last Great Minds of Atlas. Whereas many only saw her blueprints as the frivolity of a man who didn’t live in a time of war, General King Ironwood himself had seen potential. He’d ordered Penny’s creation, given her weaponry upgrades, cared for her, kept her safe as his ‘secret weapon.’ Then, the day had come where he told her it was time to fulfill her destiny.

She’d been ecstatic. She was finally getting to go out and See The World and help bring an entire kingdom into the safety and security of Atlas’s rule, wasn’t it wonderful?

It was. For a time.

Vale is a beautiful kingdom. Rich and vibrant in ways Penny never could have dreamed after only knowing a greasy, barely illuminated lab as home. She’d loved exploring. Finding and studying in the great libraries open to all. Wandering around outdoors where the sky isn’t a perpetual exhaust gray, where birds sing, and where little multi-colored butterflies flutter everywhere.

It was chasing after such a butterfly that Penny had stumbled into someone and the direction of her life had forever changed. She learned what it was like to have a friend in the following days. To not constantly feel alone.

To fall in love.

Here now, in the rebellion drop ship, Penny wishes she could open her locket. Just so she can see Ruby’s face again. Sure, if everything goes well on their mission, she will see Ruby again by day’s end.

But nothing is ever certain, especially in war.

“Get ready,” the pilot tells the rescue team. “We’re arriving at the drop point.”

Penny braces herself. Regardless of their success probability (currently hovering at a frustrating low 67%), she will do everything she can to save Ruby.

Because she loves her dearly.

And because it’s Penny’s fault she was captured in the first place.

#rwby #nuts and dolts #penny polendina #whirls writing #steampunk au #this is what happens when you let me listen to steampunk music y'all

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

When the World Goes Boom (Part Six)

This chapter is huge and was a challenge to write. The fic itself is now over 17,000 words. So much for a quick fic for Alan’s birthday. I give up.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, hurt/comfort, brothers and family, 5875 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97 and @i-am-chidorixblossom for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

There was nothing said between Jeff and his mother on the trip back to the house. Sally was of two minds. The first was to let it all play out, let Jeff trip over the brilliance of his boys and teach him the hard way that they knew what they were doing.

Not that she thought he didn’t trust them, it was more an unfamiliarity of how the family functioned in an emergency situation. This was the first time since his return that any of the boys had received a serious injury. It certainly wasn’t the first time for the family in his absence. Certain things had been put in place, certain habits came to the fore as the family retreated into itself.

Which led her to option number two - to sit him down, run interference between him and his middle son before they could blow each other’s heads off. Because that was what was likely to happen. Jeff was a lot like his eldest in temperament and John never responded well to Scott in confrontation.

So, her second option seemed the valid course.

Except Jeff refused to pick up the conversation.

Damn stubborn Tracy. The breed only came in that flavour and it could be as frustrating as hell.

As the car pulled into their driveway, she gave it one last attempt. A hand on his arm. “Jeff, hear him out.”

“I will.” Tight and dismissive.

She sighed internally and grabbed her bag, following him out of the car. The breeze was stronger than earlier and it caught her hair. “Jeff, they have been doing this a long time. They know what they are doing.”

He turned at that, one step on the front porch. “Mom, so do I.” And he turned back and entered the house.

She sighed. This was not going to end well.

Sure enough, words were already being exchanged as she entered the room.

John was frowning, his calm obviously unnerved by one of a handful of people capable of shaking it. “It was a legitimate move, Dad.”

“I’m not suggesting it wasn’t. My concern is that you did it without consultation.”

“I didn’t need to consult. It is my responsibility.”

“For my business.”

The room froze. Oh, Jeff. Her heart hurt.

“Dad, I...” Those turquoise eyes turned to her for the briefest of moments before flickering away. “The business is under the control of all of us, Dad. You know that.”

Her son swallowed, but kept his composure. “In that case then, why wasn’t I consulted?”

“Because that’s not how it works.” John straightened just a little. “Scott is the primary contact. He sees to day to day activities and calls on my assistance at need. Scott gets injured, the ultimate decision making falls to me. I made a decision to save future lives and I actioned it. I have no doubt Scott would support such a decision.”

Sally had no doubt either. Lemaire really was an idiot and it explained why they had so many rescues listing Oxy-Baker as the culprit.

Jeff swallowed visibly and Sally groaned internally. Jeff had come back from his isolation a changed man, but the core of his personality, the same aspect that had enabled him to survive so long alone, was still there. He wasn’t one to stand on the sidelines, particularly in a business he had built from the ground up.

“You created a media storm.”

“Lemaire created a media storm and Eos has it under control.”

“That control is limited and you know it. She can only delete so much before absences are noted and questions asked. You can’t jeopardise her or our operations for random gossip.”

“It is under control, Dad.”

“Then how did I find out about it?!” Great now his voice was rising.

John was still holding it together. “I know what I am doing. Lemaire cut his own throat with that broadcast. I knew he would do it and worked it into the strategy.”

“What strategy?”

“Dad-“

“Why am I never told anything? Why am I always on the outside?”

“Dad-“

But there was no stopping him. Sally’s eyes widened as her son flared like a sun gone nova.

He threw up his hands. “My own family! I, just...John, why do you shut me out?!”

John just stared. “Wha-?”

“Jeff.” Sally reached out and put a hand on her son’s arm.

He turned and stared at her, his eyes widening.

Sally opened her mouth.

Jeff’s phone rang.

The moment snapped. Sound returned to the room. Jeff’s harsh breathing. John’s wide eyes.

Her own heart beating too fast.

The phone rang a moment longer before Jeff reached into his back pocket and yanked it out.

His voice harsh. “Jeff Tracy.”

Her son kept the phone on voice only.

“Hello, Val.” His glare at John proved this discussion was not over. “They are both on the mend. Alan still need further surgery, but Scott is getting there slowly.” His voice was tight. “You know the deal, dressing changes twice a day. Burns are the worst. Virgil is on it.” A pause and a frown. “Yes, I’m fine…John and my mother, at the house.” He sighed and lowered the phone, deploying it’s holoprojector. Val Casey appeared before them all.

She frowned up at Jeff. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Val, I’m fine.”

Her lips thinned as if she didn’t believe him. Sally was not surprised. Val could always read Jeff, almost as well as her sister. The two of them used to gang up on him.

Sally had often wondered if Val could have become something more than the boys’ aunt, but Jeff had never pursued and Val just fell deeper into her career.

No doubt, Val would pursue the topic of Jeff’s health later, but for the moment she resumed the reason for her call. “We have begun investigations into the explosion and I was hoping International Rescue would be willing to share your data on the incident.”

Jeff’s eyes flickered to John. “I had assumed you had already received it.”

John caught that gaze and held it. He shook his head just a little.

Jeff’s eyes widened.

Val was talking to someone out of projector range. “Foster says she has yet to receive anything. John?” Her dark eyes turned to her nephew.

“We’re still assessing the situation, Aunt Val.”

She stared at him a moment, her lips thinning. “Very well. I will want Foster to interview Scott, Alan and John at their earliest convenience.”

“That may be some time, Val. My two boys were seriously injured.”

“I know that Jeff. I don’t like it any more than you, but there was a major explosion in orbit. We now have projectiles intruding on shipping lanes and orbital contamination. It is a mess up there. The World Council is demanding an investigation. This could affect the operation of International Rescue.”

Jeff frowned. “How?”

“There are those who claim your rescue organisation is at fault.”

“What?! Two of my sons nearly lost their lives.”

“Then prove they weren’t responsible by sharing the information.”

Jeff’s eyes hit John’s. “I will see to it.”

Val held his eyes a moment longer. “I look forward to it. GDF Command out.” The phone flicked off before anyone could comment.

“Why haven’t we cooperated with the GDF?” The words were sharp and shot at her middle grandson.

“It has become our policy to not trust the GDF.” John’s expression was resigned.

“Why?”

“The Hood has a spy in their ranks, possibly more than one.”

“The Hood is in jail.”

“It’s not the first time and it doesn’t mean much, Dad, trust me.”

Jeff’s lips thinned.

John straightened and appeared to steel himself.

Oh, for the love of-!

“Jeff.” Again, she reached out and touched his arm.

Again, it was thrown off.

Jeff opened his mouth.

John’s comms went off. “John, you there?” Gordon.

The room froze.

The astronaut stared at his father a moment longer before turning slightly and thumbing his collar. “Yes, Gordon?”

“Hey, bro, I think we have a situation.”

“What?”

“You okay?” Gordon’s tone became concerned and she could hear her fishy grandson’s frown over the commline.

“I’m fine. Details, Gordon?”

“Alan’s remembered something. We don’t think the explosion was an accident.”

As her heart sank, Sally stared as John’s turquoise hardened into obsidian.

-o-o-o-

Okay, if Virgil was honest, pushing Scott out into the sunshine wasn’t entirely just for his brother’s benefit. He closed his eyes, holding the bed still a moment as the sun hit his face.

“Oh, god, who turned the sun up?”

Shit.

Virgil grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to his brother. They were snapped up and shoved on Scott’s face ever so fast. The wraparounds blocked out everything and the concussed man sighed in relief.

“Sorry.” So much for being the medical expert in the family.

“‘S okay.” Scott lay back and literally melted into the bed. “Feels good.”

Virgil relaxed a little and resumed pushing the bed out towards the gardens.

“Not too far, Virgil.”

His shoulders dropped. “Kayo, I just need a tree and a view. Scott needs it.”

The security officer held his gaze.

“It’s only Lemaire. The man’s an idiot.”

Her stare continued.

“Please, Kay.” Puppy dog eyes maybe?

He held it for a few seconds longer and was satisfied to see her shoulders finally drop. “Fine.” She stalked into the fore, hand signals thrown at both Jeremy and Iz and the three security officers bracketed the bed and the two men.

Oh, he was so going to pay for this.

But, yeah, totally worth it.

Kayo led them out into the park and under a tree as requested. Virgil pulled the hoverbed to a halt with a sigh. The view was magnificent.

Jeremy stepped closer and took up a position near the Tracy brothers, Iz melted into the gardens and Kayo glared at Virgil one more time before talking into her comms quietly and running a perimeter.

So going to pay for this.

“She’s going to turn your life into hell, Virg.”

“Eh, she loves me. She won’t kill me.” He walked around the bed and perched on it beside his brother. “How are you?”

The breeze caressed his cheeks and it was wonderful.

“Better to be outside of that room.”

Virgil caught the unspoken terror in his brother’s voice. “Alan is going to be fine.”

“I know.”

Virgil reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “He will be. I promise.”

Scott turned to look at him at that, tired eyes staring up at him with a fragile hope Virgil had never quite seen in them before. Scott was always the powerhouse of inspiration in their family. The leader, the mover, the focus. To see him so tentative was alarming.

It was the concussion.

It had to be the concussion.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil startled. “What?”

His brother was peering at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Virgil, seriously, are you okay?” Scott was frowning in concern.

Great.

“I’m fine.”

“You have bags under your eyes bigger than Grandma’s handbag.”

Virgil rolled those eyes. “Exaggeration. I just haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

Scott stared at him in alarm. “You were up that early and haven’t had coffee?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I had coffee over breakfast. Just haven’t had my morning refill.”

That stare continued. Ever so great. Now Scott was worried about him. “I’m fine. You’re the sick one.” He turned away so his brother couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“Did you sleep?”

“I slept.” A couple of hours at least.

“For goodness sake, Virg-“

He placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re on sick leave. Give it up.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I am. Just drop it, okay. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Exactly.” But it was said under his brother’s breath and Virgil doubted he was supposed to hear it. He ignored it anyway and turned away to focus on being outside and free from the confines of the hospital.

Scott appeared to give up, though he did manage to shoot Virgil a concerned look every now and again.

Virgil ignored him and just sat back against the headboard with his brother and relaxed.

He was on the verge of dozing off when his comms squawked at him. As he focussed enough to answer, Kayo swept out of the shrubbery and joined them.

Virgil’s heart sank even before he heard Gordon’s voice.

The explosion wasn’t an accident.

-o-o-o-

The room was ever so much more depressing and confined with so many people in it.

Their father and grandmother returned to the hospital, this time bringing John with them. Virgil noticed from the moment his middle brother walked through the door that something was up between him and Dad.

When Aunt Val and her second walked in behind him, Virgil realised exactly what.

Their Aunt immediately moved to both Scott and Alan, enquiring after their health. Her second, Captain Foster appeared both fearful and uncomfortable and had every right to both emotions.

Virgil glanced at Scott and found the expected concerned expression on his face.

But his brother shook himself and the commander made an appearance, his expression calming while his blue eyes missed not a thing. Virgil both welcomed it as a sign of his recovery and with a little bit of dread. Scott had never been entirely convinced Foster was innocent in the Hood’s theft of her identity. Virgil was of two minds himself, but everything IR could access…and that was a lot with Eos up their sleeve along with John…just proved her innocence more.

So, they treated her as innocent.

“Aunt Val, what brings you here?” Scott lay back against his pillow, his eyes tracking the people in the room.

Alan, in contrast was beginning to look tired.

When Scott and Virgil returned to the room with Kayo, the astronaut had been energetic, fuelled by his own discovery and worry. The words had literally fallen from his mouth in report to Scott. Virgil had shoved the beds together and the eldest brother had reached out to gently touch and reassure the youngest. It had been an important moment for them. Virgil hadn’t missed the tremble in his big brother’s voice or his inability to let his brother go.

Alan hadn’t minded in the slightest.

Virgil himself stood to one side listening as both Eos and Alan filled gaps in the picture. Scott’s expression hardened with each word.

Understandable.

Virgil wasn’t impressed in the slightest that someone was responsible for nearly killing two of his brothers.

Kayo went ballistic.

More security was ordered and her voice was sharp over comms. Virgil had no doubt the hospital was now tighter than Fort Knox.

“Commander, I have a report that you don’t believe the orbital explosion was an accident.” The colonel’s voice was crisp and clear.

Scott’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff straightened just a little his expression firming up.

That blue gaze darted to John and their middle brother’s posture parroted that of their father with just a touch of defiance. The flicker of comprehension in Scott’s eyes reflected Virgil’s assessment of the situation. There was definitely an argument on simmer in the room.

Scott pushed himself up in the bed and Virgil jumped in to help. He could understand not wanting to face this lying down.

Scott grabbed at his head and closed his eyes.

“Hey, take it slow.” Virgil caught his brother’s shoulders and shot a glare at his father. Goddamnit, if this set Scott back after all the progress today, John wasn’t the only one who was going to be in an argument with his father.

“I’m okay, Virg.”

Pillows were shoved in to support Scott and the commander sat up straight, not quite high enough to look Casey in the eye, but impressive enough.

Virgil stood beside him.

“Colonel, we have only just now discovered there may be a possibility that the explosion was not an accident.”

“I need details.”

Scott’s eye darted to Foster for the barest of fractions. “I would prefer to do my own investigation of this matter. I need further information.”

“This is GDF jurisdiction, Scott.”

His brother’s lips thinned. He knew their aunt was right, but trust had been eroded after so many failures on the GDF’s part.

“There are some discrepancies in the station’s records. We suspect they have been masking their intake of both precious metals and radioactive materials.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“That is what we need to find out.”

“Do you have proof?”

Scott turned to John and every eye in the room followed. The astronaut didn’t blink, his voice cool as he answered. “You will have our records shortly.”

“Thank you, John.”

John didn’t answer.

Virgil frowned.

Their father stepped forward. “Thank you, Val. Keep us in the loop?”

“Of course.”

Scott’s lips thinned further. “Colonel, I would appreciate this information being kept in confidence.”

It was Casey’s turn to straighten. “Of course, Commander.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Thank you.”

There was a sudden silence in the room.

It was broken by a snore.

Virgil turned to find Alan flaked out in his bed, on his back, dead to the world. The medic flared. “I would appreciate it if my brothers were allowed to rest. It has been a long day and they are still recuperating. His glare landed on their father and the man met him eye to eye.

It was the Colonel who had the apology. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but this was important.”

“I’m aware of that, Aunt Val, but Alan was seriously injured. We came very close to losing him. So, you will need to excuse us if we are a little protective.” On the bed next to him, Scott flinched. Damn. Poor choice of words.

Virgil dropped a hand onto Scott’s forearm and squeezed gently without looking at his brother.

“I can respect that, but I will require Captain Foster to interview both Alan and Scott as part of this investigation as soon as possible.”

Virgil took a single step between his brothers and his aunt. “It will have to wait until at least tomorrow, Colonel. Both need more time.”

“You are not a doctor, Virgil.”

Of course, that set off his grandmother. “But I am, Val, and Virgil is correct. You are going to have to be patient.”

Alan snorted in his sleep. Gordon, sitting on the end of his little brother’s bed, lay a hand on Alan’s leg. There was a frown on the aquanaut’s face.

“I am trying to help you, Sal.”

“I know that, but you will have to wait. Our boys aren’t up to it yet.”

The colonel’s dark eyes turned to the eldest man in the room. “Jeff?”

Grey eyes darted from their grandmother to the sleeping Alan to the glaring blue staring from Scott’s bed.

A soft sigh. “My mother, as always, is correct, Val. We will have to wait.”

Val dipped her head in defeat. “Jeff, as soon as possible.”

“You have my word.”

With that the colonel looked to each of them, turned and left, taking Captain Foster with her.

As the door clicked closed, their father rounded on them. “What was that?”

Scott frowned. “What was what?”

“That was your aunt. Your mother’s sister. I would think you would treat her with a little more trust and respect.”

“Dad, that was Colonel Casey of the GDF. This is a professional relationship and we treat it as such. We have had difficulties with the GDF multiple times in the past. I can not afford to trust that organisation blindly. Aunt Val, yes, she means well, but she is not in control of every person in the Force. I will not trust them any more than I have to.”

“Why?”

Scott stared at his father a moment before turning to John. “Make sure Dad has the necessary mission reports as soon as possible.”

John’s FAB was very quiet.

Their father returned Scott’s stare with equal wattage, his eyes grey stone. “I see we need to have an extended discussion.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Yes, sir, we do.”

The ‘sir’ floated around the room like a harbinger. Scott hadn’t addressed his father like that in over nine years.

“Jeff, I think we should talk about this later. These boys need their rest.” As if to punctuate his grandmother’s request, Alan snorted and rolled over in his sleep. His soft whimper as he landed on his injuries had Gordon moving fast to gently prod him in the opposite direction.

Virgil winced, and realised he was still standing in defence of his eldest brother even though their Aunt had already left. A swallow and he stepped back to Scott’s side. He didn’t miss his grandmother eyeing him.

Grandma reached up and placed a hand on their father’s arm. “C’mon, Jefferson, you need rest.”

He turned to look at his mother. His shoulders sagged just a little.

Her hand travelled around his back and her touch became a one-armed hug. “You boys get some rest, too.” Blue eyes pinned both Scott and Virgil in particular.

Virgil let his head nod just once as Grandma steered her son out of the room. Their father must be really tired to allow himself to be herded like that.

But then this was Grandma.

Virgil sighed as the door closed behind them. Grabbing a plastic chair, he let himself drop into it beside Scott and for a moment just sprawled there.

“That could have gone a bit better.”

“You’re telling me.” Scott’s tone was as tired as Virgil felt. “Dad’s pissed.”

“Don’t blame him.” Gordon’s expression was sad.

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “No…god, I’m tired.”

That perked up Virgil and, in a moment, he was standing again, fussing at his brother to lie down.

Scott glared at him, but surrendered without complaint, proof of exactly how much that little meeting had taken out of him.

“I’m sorry, Scott, but that’s not all of it.” John moved quietly closer to the bed; his expression just sad. “Dad feels we are shutting him out. That we are not including him in the decision-making process.”

That explained the tension on John’s face when he arrived.

Scott rubbed his face. “I…uh.” He let a breath out in a rush. “FAB.”

“I’ll speak to him tonight.” Virgil’s voice was rough and both Scott and John, along with Gordon in the background, turned to him.

“Virgil, are you okay?” John’s eyes were suddenly concerned.

Virgil cleared his throat and his voice came out more its usual depth. “I’m fine, why?”

His brothers’ frowns didn’t disappear, but Virgil pre-empted further discussion of his health by speaking further. “I’ll talk to him tonight. Hopefully he will have had a rest by then. We’re all tired. Tempers are guaranteed to be short.”

Scott grunted.

As if to parrot his big brother, Alan snorted again.

Gordon stifled a laugh.

Scott glared at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes and threw himself back into the chair.

Concerned turquoise eyes followed him, but Virgil ignored them.

God, he was tired. A blink. His coffee. He never got his damned coffee. Explained the tired.

He rubbed his face fit to erase it and lay back.

It could all wait a few minutes.

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he knows?”

“Of course, he knows. How could he possibly not?”

“He’s asleep. How could he know?”

“Because you never shut up about it.”

“Can it, you two, or you’ll wake him up!” The hissed whisper was closer and definitely Scott.

“I think that would be a good idea considering he is about to fall off that chair.” Gordon? Yes, Gordon.

Virgil shifted and realised he was not in a comfortable position. Not comfortable in the slightest.

He groaned as his body complained. Ow.

“Now, see that? You’ve done it. You just couldn’t shut up, could you?”

A gentle hand touched Virgil’s shoulder and he shifted again. Oh god, what had he done to himself.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy, you’re going to fall off the chair.”

Chair? Wha-? He forced his eyes open.

Just in time for whatever was under him to tip sideways.

The world tumbled into a mess of linoleum, orange and bruising hard surfaces.

Strong hands caught him though.

“Shit, Virg, you okay?”

The orange? The orange was Gordon. Virgil blinked attempting force clarity into his thoughts. His butt hurt and he had whacked a foot, but those strong arms of his little brother had caught all the important bits. A dazed stare up into eyes as brown as his own and his brain came mostly online.

“Ugh, Gordon? What the hell?”

“You fell off your chair.”

Virgil struggled to right himself and his brother helped him to sit up. He was on the floor. Scott was peering over the edge of his bed down at him, a worried frown on his face. “You okay, Virgil?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks, Gords.”

“All part of the service.” As usual, Gordon’s tone was light, but Virgil didn’t miss the fact his brother hadn’t let him go yet. “You fell asleep. Did you know you snore like a frog?”

He turned to his brother. “What?”

“A genuine frog. I can even name the species. Mating call and all. I suggest you don’t fall asleep next to a pond. You may wake up with some interested, but somewhat slimy female admirers.”

Virgil stared at Gordon for a full second before giving up and shaking the man off so he could roll to his feet.

Ow, everything creaked. “How long?”

Scott’s eyes followed him as he staggered upright. “Maybe a couple of hours. You were tired.”

Still was. He rubbed his face again.

“You missed lunch.”

Huh? Food. His stomach groaned. “I’m good.”

“Bullshit, Virgil. Go home, you need food and a bed.”

He ran his hands through his hair. Ugh, sleep inertia. His brain was fog. He just needed a moment.

He grabbed his chair and righted it as his fish brother unfolded from the floor. His sore butt hit the plastic of the seat and he groaned. “I need coffee.”

Gordon snickered obviously ignoring the warning in those words.

Scott’s voice was firm. “Gordon, could you please get Virgil some coffee.”

That prompted a glare war between brothers that Virgil had no energy to umpire.

Blue must have won over brown like it usually did, because Gordon stomped off.

“You okay, Virg?” Alan’s voice came from somewhere beyond Scott.

Virgil grunted.

“Give him a minute…or sixty.” The grin in Scott’s voice was just offensive.

“Shut up.”

Gordon returned with what turned out to be a decent and wonderful and, oh god, coffee. So warm, so longed for. “Gordon, I love you.”

His brother snorted. “Figured, but I’m thinking you love the coffee more right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes were closed and the smell. Ohhhh!

Someone was giggling but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Coffee.

It was a few reverential moments and some steaming liquid of the gods later before he surfaced enough to discover three pairs of eyes smirking at him.

Three.

“Where’s John?”

It was Scott who answered. “Lemaire threw another fit. He returned to the house to tackle it.”

“Another one? I thought John had the business secured.”

Scott sighed. “He does as far as I can see. Lemaire is just hounding the press.” Virgil narrowed his gaze at his eldest brother, suspicious. Scott rolled his eyes. “And before you ask, yes, I did fall asleep, but your snoring woke me up.”

“And me.” But Alan was grinning, obviously feeling better for his nap. “What frog was that, Gordo?”

“An African bullfrog. A big fat nasty one, just woke up from hibernation. Kinda applicable really, considering.” Gordon’s grin was fit to split his face in half.

Virgil ignored him and guzzled the dregs of his coffee.

Perhaps Scott was right. Maybe he should go home if he was disturbing his brothers.

A hand touched his arm. Scott’s voice was quiet and sincere. “Virg, go home. You’re wearing yourself out. Alan and I are fine. We will be fine. Go home.”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. “Mr Alan Tracy, it is time for your dressings change.”

Virgil blinked. It was that late? Where the hell had the day gone?

He pushed himself to his feet. He could hang for another half hour or so.

Scott groaned softly as Virgil moved his bed out of the way so they could undock Alan’s bed. “Virg, go home.”

“I will. After Alan’s had his dressings changed.”

“Virg-“

“I’m good. Gordon, hang with Scott and sing him a lullaby. Here hold my coffee cup.” He shoved the empty mug into his gaping brother’s hand and helped push Alan’s bed out of the room.

Alan’s giggle made it worth it.

-o-o-o-

The giggle lasted until they entered the procedure room and then nothing could deny the seriousness of the situation. They left Jez and Brie at the door to give them privacy.

As Alan’s bed was docked and the protective sheets laid beside him, Virgil moved to take up a position at the head of the bed and gently rested his hand in Alan’s hair. Out of the way, but still in contact with his little brother.

During previous procedures, Virgil had moved to the other side of the bed, but this time he wanted a better view.

Maybe down the track, he would be able to help his brother through his recovery.

The nurse left for a moment and Alan looked up, his hair soft against the palm of Virgil’s hand. “Thanks for this. I know it sucks to watch, but thanks for being here, bro.”

A small smile. “Anytime, Allie.”

He could have let Gordon come in his stead, but Gordon was as much his little brother as Alan, and while they were all adults…well, almost, his fingers brushed blond locks involuntarily…every instinct still called to protect them.

If he was honest, Virgil would have to admit that his family was everything to him.

He would do anything for his brothers.

A small sigh. He must be tired. He was getting maudlin.

The nurse returned, bustling in with a hypodermic. She smiled at Alan and he forced a grin. “Got me the good drugs again?”

“Certainly, Mr Tracy. Only the best for our best patients.” Her smile was genuine and friendly.

She prodded his brother’s IV line and injected the medication. “Let’s give that a few moments to do its thing.”

Alan grinned. “Bring on the psychedelic butterflies.”

The nurse only smiled and finished up. “It will be over before you know it, Mr Tracy.”

Virgil hoped so.

The next few moments were quiet as Alan settled.

Virgil found himself gently stroking his brother’s hair.

He wasn’t sure if it was for Alan or himself. Maybe it was for both of them.

Eventually, the door opened and the same nurse from this morning entered pushing a small tray of supplies.

Alan grinned. “Joe, you’ve come back for a second round.”

The young man smiled in return. “Wouldn’t miss it. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, the good stuff is doing its stuff. Can barely feel a thing.”

The nurse stepped up to the side of the bed, giving Virgil the barest of nods. “That’s what we like to hear. Have to make sure we have a happy customer.”

“Give me a little more and I’ll be more than happy.”

The nurse snorted as he lined up his tools. “Kelly says you’ve had just the right amount, Alan. Wouldn’t want you to go loopy on us.”

“Sounds like fun. Hey, Virg, is it fun?”

Virgil blinked. “Is what fun?”

“Being high as a kite. Joe, you should see what stuff like this does to my brother.”

“Alan…”

The nurse looked up at Virgil and a small smile spread across his face. “Really? What does it do?”

Virgil groaned. “Alan-“

“He gets funny. One time he tried to walk through a wall. Another time, he proposed to Kayo, his sister.” Alan giggled. So much for not being as high as a kite.

“Alan, please.”

“It’s okay, Virg. We still love you.”

Blue eyes were looking up at him and smiling.

God, Allie.

The nurse pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Now I’m just going to put in a local anaesthetic and we’ll get started.” He began uncovering Alan’s arm.

Virgil frowned. “Why does he need a local? He has a nerve depressant in place.”

The nurse blinked at him. “This is part of the procedure.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve attended every session with Alan. He has not needed a local anaesthetic before. You didn’t give him one this morning.”

The nurse turned towards him. “He was in pain this morning. I felt this would help.” The man turned back to Alan and pulled the covers off his arm.

“Which local are you using?”

The man didn’t stop what he was doing. “Why?”

“Virg, what’s wrong?” Concerned blue eyes stared up at him from the bed.

“Just asking some questions, Allie.” He turned back to Joe. “Can you please stop a moment and explain what you are doing?”

Joe straightened and turned to Virgil, resignation on his face. “I guess I’ll have to.”

A blur of movement, a sharp pain in his neck, heat and shock as he was flung away from the bed. His head hit something hard and the world sparkled in a rain of stars.

“Virgil!”

Alan!

What the f-?!

“You had to be a smart ass, didn’t you. Couldn’t make this easy. No…bloody Tracys!”

Virgil’s brain derailed for a second. The man beside the bed doubled as he reloaded the syringe. “Two Tracys instead of one, can’t hurt, s’pose.”

“Al-lan, r-run!” He fumbled for his collar. “J..J..ez.” Where was his voice? He lurched a step. “Alan!”

His brother was responding, ever so slowly, dragging himself off the bed, his sedated body ever so heavy.

Heavy…Virgil listed to one side and struggled to right himself.

Joe had the hypodermic charged again. He turned to Alan.

No!

Virgil threw himself forward and crashed into that doubling figure.

They went down with a resounding crash. Surgical tools went flying.

“Goddamnit! What does it take to shut you up?!”

Virgil wrestled with the man, but he was uncoordinated and numb. Joe slapped him across the face with an empty medical tray and everything vanished in pain for too many moments.

But he had a grip on an arm and he wasn’t going to let go.

The man struggled, fighting him, and Virgil again tried his collar comms his thick fingers fumbling. “Jez…Jeremy, please!” Not Allie, please not Allie, don’t hurt Allie.

White hot pain flared in his arm.

Not Allie.

Again, sharp, hot and burning.

Again. He whimpered.

“Get off me, you annoying piece of sh-“

Something stabbed into him and stayed there just as the room exploded with noise.

Not Allie.

“Scott, help…please…”

Everything came down to that fist and what it held.

Not Allie.

Not.

Alli-

-o-o-o-

End Part Six

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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I have a question. In one of your recent posts, you said that trigger warnings come from a place of obligation and not true caring. I agree with you that a lot of the time, that’s true. Which can be concerning. But my question is that at the end of the day, does the person’s reasoning matter? Maybe they’re an awful rude person but if they’ve tagged their stuff, made it easy to see what’s gonna be in the fic, doesn’t that still help? Even if coming from a rude place. The end result is good

Well sure, any time a trigger warning is a benefit to someone, it doesn’t really matter what the reasoning for making it was. Absolutely.

My point there was the problem is one of priorities, and approach. And bottom line, a person who is only tacking on expected trigger warnings out of a sense of covering their own ass, like......they’re not ever likely to be examining their own work with an eye towards the kinds of negative effects it could potentially have on people, because they’re too busy denying that there’s any possible negative impact it could have at all. Despite the fact that this is just willful obliviousness - if fic can have a positive effect on people and inspire or reinforce positive ideas, it has just as much power and likelihood to have a negative effect on people and inspire or reinforce negative ideas. Its not about a one to one correlation, like, its not like anything someone reads in fic they’re going to do, but as pieces of a larger fandom culture? That absolutely adds up and contributes to the normalization and perpetuation and spread of negative ideas and ideologies.

And this is the kind of self-scrutiny an over-reliance on trigger warnings gets in the way of....because its just accepted or taken as fact that trigger warnings ARE the solution....despite all the times and ways people speak up to say well there’s a problem here because this alleged solution is not working here and here and here and over here too.

But someone who’s convinced they ALREADY did their due diligence by tacking on a couple trigger warnings is never going to be as receptive to being told they missed some, as someone who approaches things from a perspective of understanding that trigger warnings are not infallible, they’re only effective when an author has an HONEST view of their own work.

(And if fandom was truly engaging in a lot of this content honestly, as I’ve said, tags like dub-con and pseudo-incest and consensual underaged sex would not be as widely used as they are in the ways that they’re most often used.....ways that are categorically NOT what those things mean and advertise).

And most importantly, trigger warnings as they’re used by fandom now, like....have kinda become an excuse for authors to try and abdicate any responsibility for what they write. “Oh, I used trigger warnings, so any impact my fic has on someone has nothing to do with me past that point.....unless of course its a positive impact, in which case I’m still more than happy to soak up the praise.”

And that’s just not how it works. You know that thing I said in an earlier post about how all writing is just another form of communicating things - to ourselves in journals, to others in stories or emails or messages.....bottom line, writing has one purpose: to convey ideas, meanings, etc between the person writing and the person or people they’re writing TO or sharing that writing WITH.

In essence, a fic that you’ve written and then decided to POST, to publish, to put out in the world in some form and share with others.....at that point, it stops being a conversation with just yourself and becomes a conversation that’s being had with anyone and everyone who then reads that fic....even if it is a one-sided conversation for the most part, with others just listening to what ideas and thoughts and images and impressions you’re conveying via your writing.

And think of it in terms of like, literally ANY conversation you might have out loud.

If you say something offensive, is it anyone’s fault or responsibility other than yours, that you said something that was offensive?

If you say something you don’t actually believe, but don’t follow it up with anything that actually indicates out loud that this isn’t something you genuinely believe, is it realistic to pretend that people have no basis for listening to what you actually SAID and from that drawing conclusions about what you believe or support?

If you say something that’s in direct opposition to something you said earlier, is it any wonder if people question which you ACTUALLY meant or believe MORE, or just flat out don’t believe what you said earlier now?

If you say something insensitive or even cruel, do you have any right or reasonable expectation why anybody who hears you shouldn’t be within their rights to call you out for what you said and why it was fucked up?

If you choose NOT to say something, out of respect for someone you’re around, or because you know its insensitive or offensive or anything of the sort....are you being censored, or are you just choosing not to be a douchebag?

And so on and so on.

Writers have a tendency to kinda hide behind the logic “not everything we write has to be something we personally believe, we can write characters who have very different values than us” - and that’s absolutely true....but only up to a certain point.

Because you can absolutely write a CHARACTER who believes the opposite of stuff you actually believe or value.....but your NARRATIVE still has to refute that somewhere at some point in some way.....otherwise.....there is literally no reason why anyone reading that, ‘hearing’ what you spoke into the world, would think you DON’T actually believe that. You’ve communicated something toxic or ugly or even harmful or predatory....without accompanying it with ANY communicated idea as to why a reader SHOULDN’T just absorb those ideas as is.

Like.....if you write a rape fic that’s INTENDED to be received as sexy or hot, even if you’re not actually condoning rape within the fic, and even if you would never condone it in real life.....

If your fic still garners comments like “that’s so hot” or something like that, and this isn’t a problem for you because this is a reaction you expected or even a response you intended or were seeking?

You didn’t say or express that you would ever rape someone or say it was okay to rape someone.

But you still communicated, without any kind of self-contradiction:

“Hey, here is a scenario in which rape is hot.”

And whether you’re talking about fiction or reality, why WOULDN’T that communicated idea be anything other than wildly insensitive and yes, even offensive and yes even DAMAGING to many rape survivors....even if you’re one yourself?

Like.....another example, okay so I’ve literally been gaybashed, nobody’s likely to ever accuse me of being homophobic, its a pretty safe bet, right? But if I write a fic FOR WHATEVER REASON, in which a character is homophobic even though I’m not myself, but where a character expresses toxic, prejudicial, HARMFUL ideas about being gay....and then my fic nowhere at any point says or does anything to REFUTE or contest those harmful ideas......why would the fact that I don’t actually believe those things make ANY difference whatsoever in terms of whether those things were absorbed by readers in the exact way I communicated them....but without the benefit of any of the reasons I KNOW - but did not communicate in the fic - that they’re harmful and shouldn’t be paid attention to?

So yes, fiction absolutely can do harm, if its not treated with the appropriate responsibility. It can make people who’ve never met someone who’s Muslim decide all Muslim people are terrorists. It can convince people that destructive, harmful instances of incest are actually the outliers and most incest is harmless and between equals. It can normalize the idea that all bisexual people are slutty and promiscuous. It can do tons more beside all that.

And yes, fic absolutely can and often DOES, in fandom, communicate the idea that many of the exact same people who swear they support survivors and have nothing but sympathy for what they went through and all that....can in the right scenarios and circumstances still find the very IDEA of rape hot and exciting, can find the IMAGERY of a hot or sexy character being raped to be sexually stimulating and gratifying and DESIRED, and so on and so forth.

And why wouldn’t that communicated idea make someone question if you’re someone they can ever be comfortable being around, because one way or another, you still found and advertised, broadcast, invited others to join in enjoying.....a scenario in which something an awful lot like that someone’s trauma was hot or sexy to you just as long as it was projected on someone else - a distance which may not matter to them or make them feel any better about the fact that you’re still talking about one of the worst things to ever happen to them, but skewing it in a way where every thing actually being said isn’t about how its bad or wrong or nothing you’d ever condone....but hot and titillating and sexy?

Why wouldn’t it bother someone or weird them out that you see no conflict of interest between having sympathy for them but then flipping a switch and happily consuming content that’s entirely and unilaterally just about characters going through the exact same kind of thing.....and the viewpoint you’re siding with in this particular instance is that of like....the actual attacker, the one going yes, this is good?

ALL OF THESE are the kinds of questions - and the kind of impact - that not only do trigger warnings just flat out not cover....but that the over-reliance on trigger warnings makes less and less likely to even pop up in a writer’s brain as something worth considering or weighing at all.

So again, like I said at the top - I mean yeah, if a trigger warning is actually helpful to someone, it doesn’t matter WHY it was added or put in place.

But if it wasn’t put in place out of a genuine self-examination of your work and a genuine desire to look out for readers’ comfort and take responsibility for the kind of heavy content you’re choosing to write and share.....

Chances are, the fact that one trigger warning did work for one person or however many, was just a stroke of luck and there’s likely to be a dozen other ways in which that writer failed to consider or even ask themselves....is there anything else I should recognize and acknowledge as potentially having a negative impact on people?

And please, if you read or write dark fic for any reason, you don’t owe me an explanation but you owe it to yourself to at least take a second and honestly ask yourself if you’ve EVER stopped to ask or examine any of the above questions or angles. And if not, why? Ask yourself if you’ve ever been encouraged or had it suggested by others in fandom to even just ask or wonder about these things. And if not, why?

Please examine - who benefits MOST in all of this, from encouraging more and more readers and writers to just NOT think about ANY of this stuff at all, and to instead just shut down any and all conversation about it or attempts to START conversations like this......

Other than people who like and enjoy this type of content and genuinely just do not care about the impact it might have on others....and so similarly, want as few other people as possible to care or even THINK about the impact it might have on others....and thus, maximize the number of people who absent those considerations, have no problem contributing to or enjoying that type of content?

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komarto · 4 years

Photo

“Welcome to the Shadow Records!” (1/2)

I might have went overboard and wrote a fic to intro my OCs to the Hazbin Universe... with a spice of a reader insert! You can also find it on AO3

Summary: After falling into hell, you hired the I.M.P.s to take out your abusive ex. But they can’t seem to find him in the living world, so you have to visit the local information broker for their whereabouts.

Words: 2374

Tws: Implied/ referenced abusive and manipulative relationship, Implied/ referenced suicide

Luna: “Blitz!”

Blitzo: “Yes Luna?”

Luna: “Yeah, dispatch just came back and they can’t find the target.”

Blitzo: “What do you mean they can’t find the target?”

Luna: “They can’t find them in the living world.”

Blitzo: “Well, if they’re not in the living world, then it’ll mean they’re dead. And with all the shit that the customer says that they’ve done to them, very terrible by the way, they would most likely end up here in hell. And frankly, that’s not our job. Hell’s too big to find and kill 1 person.”

Millie: “So what now? We can’t just tell them that we couldn’t find their target, sir...”

Moxie: “What if we asked the Shadow demon, sir?”

Blitzo: “The who?”

Moxie: “Y’know, the Shadow demon that hunted down 25 demons in a month a few years back and killed them with the Radio demon?”

Blitzo: “They gave them a lame title now? Man, the people here really needs to brush up on their naming game.”

Moxie: “She’s an information broker now, has a little collection of something on everyone in hell.”

Blitzo: “And you know that how?”

Moxie: “I… might have asked her about some stuff.”

Blitzo: “Riiiight, sure. Totally not suspicious at all. Well you can give her a call or something and see what happens.”

“This is the Shadow Records, what can we do for ya?”

Moxie: “Ah- hello, um, Shadow demon, this is uh Moxie calling in from the Immediate Murder Professionals.”

“Moxie, how nice of you to call in. And please, call me Deni. This isn’t the first time we talked and you’re a nice guy. So, are the I.M.P.s having some trouble with a client?”

Moxie: “You could say that. Our dispatch team can’t find their target, so we figured that they’re already here.”

“And you need my help to find them.”

Moxie: “Y-yes. Can you?”

“Oh sure, but you know my pricing, Moxie. It’s either money, a favour, or something that I don’t know.”

Moxie: “Well... we can have client owe you?”

“Fair enough. What’s their name?”

Moxie gives the broker your name.

“I’ve heard of them here and there. I’ll have Amelie send an eye over to get them. Have the client there in 3 hours.”

Moxie: “Of course, mam’, thank you so much for this.”

“No problem, Moxie. Just a little reminder of the favour you owe me. I’ll see them soon.”

Moxie: “Yeah, I know, thanks for that… bye bye.”

Blitzo: “What’d she say?”

Moxie: “She said to have the client be here so she can send an… eye to get her?”

Blitzo: “The fuck she going to do with an eye?”

Moxie: “I don’t know! Just call the person over and it’ll get them in 3 hours!”

Blitzo: “Fine! Luna call the client over!”

(Y/N)’s POV

It’s been a few days since you’ve contacted the I.M.P.s about your request to kill your abusive ex that landed you here. In your last moments, you prayed that the Lord would forgive the sins they made you commit as you stepped off the ledge.

You guess not. It was a rather rude awakening when you found yourself in hell. You’ve only recently found the Immediate Murder Professionals from their ad, and heck, you wanted your ex to pay for what they did, what they made you do in your cursed life. Your entire life was a fuck fest of issues and bad memories from everyone around you. Your abusive parents, manipulative and controlling ex, dead-end jobs, etc...

You did your best, you really tried. But it all came to a point where you were just too tired of trying… You just hoped that karma would finally be on your side and burn everyone that has ever wronged you.

You got a call back from them telling you to be at their headquarters in 3 hours. Had they done the job? That was fast. Nevertheless, you were eager to be there on time, maybe reach there a few minutes earlier.

You reached the door to their office 15 minutes before the meeting time. You knocked on the door and the tall imp demon greeted you. “Ah (Y/N), come in come in, here take a seat and Moxie will explain everything.”

“Hey! Wha-” the shorter employee looked at him shock. “Aren’t you suppose to explain the circumstances first?”

“It was your stupid idea! Frankly, we could have just told them the problem and go on our merry way! Now go do your fucking job.” Blitzo waved at him and walked out of the room.

Your mind is filled with question. What problem? What stupid idea have they thought of and why does it concern you?

“Hey, its gonna be alright dear just listen for a minute.” Mille pats you on your shoulder and joins Moxie at his side

Moxie clears his throat. “Well, first of all, thank you for making your way here on such a short notice, I know it can be quite hard to get here for some people. Ah um, secondly, our dispatch team ran into some complications in the living world and uh, they couldn’t find the person that you wanted us to murder. Which means that they’re here in hell, which would make it very hard to find them.”

“But! But, ah, we have a solution! There’s an information broker that I know of that can help. It’s just that well…”

“Well?” you asked sceptically.

“You have to pay for their services.”

“What? I don’t have the money to pay someone else to do the job! That’s what I paid you guys to do!”

“Yes, we know! But! There are other ways to pay them, like owing them a favour or like telling them like something that they don’t know, y’know with the whole information broker deal thing. It's practically free.” Moxie explained.

“Not when I owe some creep a favour, god knows what they’ll want from me!” you snapped back at him. A muffled tapping sound could be heard from the window but you were too worked up to care about whatever it is.

“It’s probably bad to talk about the shadow demon like that…” Millie murmured as he looked shyly to the side.

Your eyes widened at her and your head whipped back to Moxie “The SHADOW DEMON? THAT’S WHO I’M SUPPOSE TO MEET?” you exclaimed.

That’s it, you’re dead. You’ve heard rumours of the Shadow demon. But in just a month or so in hell, they had teamed up with the Radio demon, a feat on its own, and had killed 20 over demons.

Wrapped them up in little bows and strung them on the overlord’s radio tower to be picked off painfully by the angels during the cleanse. Their pleads and screams were broadcasted across hell through the radios like the Radio demon’s previous plot, but never at this scale.

“Calm down (Y/N), the Shadow demon’s a nice person from what I’ve heard, she won’t hurt you if you haven’t done anything to her.” Millie assured you, her voice calm but still held a hint of nervousness.

“Shadow demon’s a “her”? Well that’s a first.” you scoffed. He, they… the rumours never got their pronouns down, but you’ve never heard anyone call the Shadow demon a “her”.

“Yeah well, she said she’ll have an eye to bring you to her. So it’ll benefit all of us, hopefully mostly you, that you follow her orders.” Moxie continues checking the clock on the wall.

You let out a frustrated sighed. “Well fuck that. Nice or not, I’m not sticking around to find out. If you can’t do the job just give me a fucking refund and we’ll be on our merry way.”

“Well no can do (Y/N), the boss already spent it on keeping the TV ad on the air.” Moxie crossed his arms.

You were fuming at this point, and that incessant tapping wasn’t making it any better. “I don’t care about your fucking jingle, I want my fucking money back if you can’t do what I paid you to do!” you hit the table under you in anger.

“Um, guys?” Millie tapped on Moxie’s shoulder as she stared to her right.

“And what the fuck is making that tapping sou-” Your complaints were drowned by the gazed of the most unsettling creature that was outside the window.

Behind the glass, hovered a single eyeball with a pink iris and a black star of its pupil. Its bat wings that kept it airborne tapped against the glass with each flap. The thing had no eyelids so it simply maintained eye contact with you as you stared back at it in shock.

“Moxie, is that the ‘eye’ that we were waiting for?” Millie breaks the silence, pointing to the mysterious but obvious eye.

“I-uh, I think so?” Moxie walks over to the window to open it and the eye bat thing calmly flies into the room. The eyeball makes its way over to you and circles over your head whimsically before flying out of the window to watch you from outside.

“It’s actually kinda cute.” Millie walks over to the window to get a closer look at it. The eye turns to watch her and gives her a light bump on her cheek before returning to stare at you.

“See, no harm at all!” Millie giggled, turning back to the both of you.

“I suppose that your cue to follow it?” Moxie nudges you.

You let out another heavy sigh and rubbed your nose bridge. You know what, fuck it. What do you have to lose at this point?

“Fine. And if I manage to come back with their whereabouts I want to see his severed head when ya’ll actually do your job.”

You exit their headquarters, not bothering to slam the door on your way out. You may be mad, but you’re not that mean... Even if this is hell. Outside the main entrance of the building was the same winged eye keeping its self afloat at your eye level. You exit the building and the eye flies around you like it did before. Its makes a full circle around you and flies off in a direction. It stops a few steps away from you before turning back to look at you, beckoning you to follow it.

You bit your lip nervously as you took the first few steps of letting the thing guide you to your potential death.

As you followed the eye, you began to grow interested in the little thing. Was it another denizen of hell or was it like one of the Shadow demon’s minions? As far as you knew, the Shadow demon could manipulate the shadows and hide in them, not eyeball minion magic.

You were also beginning to agree with Millie that it was kind of cute in its own way. As it guided you through the quiet back streets, it would turn to see if you were following and sometimes do a play full barrel roll or loop in the air. You couldn’t help but smile at its antics, your mind no longer worrying about your encounter with the rumoured shadow demon

As you walk about of the alley and onto the main road, you are met with a building with a sign that said “Shadow Records” in black calligraphy. It resembled a multi-story shophouse with a new coat of paint and traditional doors and windows that gave off a sense of sophistication and warmth, unlike most of the bar and brothel filled streets of hell.

At the entrance stood a young demon girl swaying side to side on her thin legs. She wore a pink lolita dress with white ruffles and blue accents. As you stepped closer, you could see pastel pink bandages that wrap her forearms loosely and covered her eyes and forehead. The pink almost blending in with her light pink skin, though her electric blue hair made her stand out from afar.

She does a little pirouette at the top of the stairs and stops in your direction. The eye makes a dash over to her and she lets out a musical giggle as it lands in between her two hair buns. You walk up the stairs and she greets you excitedly.

“Hi there! You must be (Y/N), the name’s Amelie, Deni’s waiting for you upstairs. Come on!” she opens the door and steps into the building.

“Um, okay?” you follow her in hesitantly. This is where you die, you guessed.

The young demon girl, Amelie, hums a whimsical tune as she skips her way up a flight of stairs with you in tow. Your first impression is that she seems to be too young to be here in hell. Then again, everything could be an act to get you comfortable and then kill you so you kept your guard up.

Seeing as how your previous companion was so familiar with the girl, and is still seated comfortably between her hair, you figured that it was probably her minion instead of the Shadow demon.

“Come on, we’ve been waiting for you.” Amelie calls to you as she skips towards a large oak door that looks like it was built of someone thrice you height. You gulped at you looked up at the scale of the door.

Amelie raps her knuckles on the door in a rhythm before opening it.

Before you sat what you could only assume is the shadow demon behind their desk with a manila folder in hand. Their red eyes glanced up at you as the door opened and you could feel their white cat-like pupils bare into your very being. It was at this point you realise that the dark wall behind was also lined with eyes that were staring back at you. In fear, you took a step back, ready to make a mad dash for the exit.

A soft laugh reached your ears and you turned to see a muscular reptilian leaning against the long desk look at you with mirth in his black sclera and turquoise eyes.

The Shadow demon speaks up.

“Hello (Y/N). Welcome to Shadow records.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hhoc #fanfic #helluva blitzo #helluva moxxie #helluva millie #helluva loona #oc #my art #my writting #viziepop #reader #deni #jordan #amelie #helluva boss

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

Text

Good afternoon fuckers! This fic isn’t quite as dark as the companion, but it’s another angsty one for you guys (and the longest one-shot I’ve ever written! Woo!) Also you may want to read the companion to this (all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me) because it makes this make a lot more sense, but it’s not 100% necessary (and be careful of the warnings!).

Title: all the things that you never ever told me

Wordcount: 3657

Summary: Cherri Cola goes missing.

This is absolutely no fucking fun for anyone. Especially NewsAGoGo.

Warnings: Lots of mentions of death + a character is assumed to be dead, as well as some implied self-harm (although it could also be read as wavehead scars and thus past implied addiction)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

NewsAGoGo stared around the room, sunlight warm on her neck as she stood in the doorway. It was mid-afternoon at a radio station in the desert, and Newsie was trying very hard not to panic. Because Cherri fucking Cola, her best friend in the entire world (okay, there were some other people up there too, but Cherri was practically her brother) was gone.

“Cherri! Cherri, you fucker, are you hiding somewhere?”

The radio station was silent. Newsie shut the door and wandered over to where he had been when they left this morning, scanning the area. The spot was empty; even the scraps of paper he used for writing poetry were gone, and there was no sign Cherri had ever even been there.

“Fucking hell, I’m going to yell at you when I find you!” The threat was empty, and so were the bedrooms of the station when Newsie checked there. In fact, the entire station seemed deserted, which was most unlike Cola. He took his responsibilities of watching the station seriously, generally only leaving it empty if he really needed to.

Newsie took one last look around the radio shack, trying to see if Cherri had left a note or something. There was none, and they decided he actually was gone, trying to figure out what the fuck she was going to do. First on her list was radio Dr. Death Defying- hopefully he would have some idea where Cherri had gone. Cherri sure as hell hadn’t radioed her about going anywhere, but sometimes he told D things he wouldn’t tell the rest of them. Not that Newsie was jealous or anything, but it did piss them off how goddamn secretive he was.

They fiddled with the radio. Please let him have told D something…

“Hello?”

“Hey, D. Has Cherri told you anything about going somewhere?”

“No, he said he’d be back at the radio station all day.” She could hear concern in his voice. “I haven’t heard from him since this morning, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Because I just got home and Cherri isn’t fucking here.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

She heard a faint sigh. “Okay, Pony and I can probably be back there by say, sunset tonight if we’re willing to book it. Have you radioed him?”

“Don’t think he took a fucking radio with him, D.”

D sighed again. “Right. Stupid question, sorry. I’ll be there in a few hours, let me know if anything changes?”

“Got it.” Newsie turned off the radio before he could say anything else, looking around again. “Cola, you bastard, I’m going to fuck you up when I finally find you,” she muttered.

Predictably, given his absence, Cherri did not respond. That didn’t stop Newsie from keeping up a constant stream of swear words and threats as she searched the radio shack from top to bottom again. It wasn’t as if they actually expected Cherri to have suddenly appeared, but it gave them something to do that wasn’t ‘pick a random direction and see if he went that way’ or worry.

When she finally was forced to admit he wasn’t there at all, she headed outside and looked around there. Cherri’s truck was still parked next to the station, and Newsie frowned. Surely he wouldn’t have left without some reliable transport, right? It wasn’t like him to leave on foot, which only alarmed them further. She scouted for footsteps, and found marks that might have been a set of footsteps…and another group of marks that might have been a set, going the opposite way. And a third set. And varying other marks in the sand because it was a fucking desert and of course the sand wasn’t going to be fucking smooth.

Newsie groaned and sat down on the radio station porch with a thump. Of all things to go wrong in her life, it had to be her fucking brother just vanishing into thin air? At least he could have left a fucking note if he was just going to run off like that.

D and Show Pony arrived back a few hours later, right at sunset like they promised. Newsie was still sitting on the porch, unable to muster the will to get up. Goddamn Cherri Cola and his reluctance to tell them fucking anything.

Pony skate over, offering them a hand. “Hey, Newsie!”

Newsie took it and pulled herself up. “Hey, Pone.”

“So our trouble-causing Cola up and left, huh?”

“Guess so, given that he’s not fucking here.”

To eir credit, Pony didn’t even flinch at the harsh words. “Well, we’ll find him. And give him a good bit of shit for this!”

“We sure fucking will,” Newsie muttered.

D came over with a sigh. “So what do we know for sure?”

“Cherri isn’t fucking here. His truck is though, and doesn’t look like there are tire tracks from other vehicles. I’m guessing he’s on foot.”

“That’s…concerning. Why would he leave on foot?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Right. Let’s look until it gets too dark, and tomorrow we’ll ask if anyone’s seen him on the broadcast, assuming he’s not back by then.”

He wasn’t.

Newsie was starting to get scared. It felt like some part of her had been expecting to wake up to Cherri snoring on the sofa, or conked out on the mattress next to her, or bustling around the kitchen while Show Pony shouted ‘you better not make that cursed tea!’. Like they would wake up and everything would be back to normal. But Cherri wasn’t asleep on the sofa or mattress, and he wasn’t in the kitchen either. He wasn’t home at all.

It wasn’t uncommon for Cherri to leave for a few days at a time when everything started to be too much for him- he would drive out into the desert and spend a while wandering, doing who-knows-what before returning, a little bit sunburned but smiling again. But unlike this time, he always left a note. Even on the days when he would hardly say a word, he didn’t leave without some way to tell the others where he had gone.

Right now, Newsie was sitting on the desk next to where D was as he made the broadcast, only listening to every other word.

“Hello there, crash queens and tumbleweeds. We’ve got some unfortunate news from the Zones…it seems that our favorite radio poet, lovely Cherri Cola, has gone missing. So if anyone’s got news of a ‘joy in a battered green jacket, pretty tall, with scars all up and down his arms and blue eyes like the sea, bring it on over to me here at Dr. Death Defying’s radio station. You can also send it to DJs NewsAGoGo and Hot Chimp, or tell our favorite zonerunner Show Pony. And if you see the man himself, could you tell him to get himself down to the station? He’s got us worried over here. This is Dr. Death Defying, signing off.”

What followed that announcement was a lot of searching. And waiting. And more waiting. And more searching. Newsie didn’t want to admit it, but she was terrified. Cherri had never been exactly stable, although these days he was more so than before, and she was terrified both of what had driven him to leave and what could have happened to him.

That night, they went into their room and searched around, locating the bright pink mask from where Cherri kept it tucked away. Newsie was the only one who knew its location, and she knew it would be her task to take it to the mailbox. If he died now. If. They couldn’t forget that it was an ‘if’, not a certainty. Cherri would come back. Cherri had to come back.

The edges of the mask were digging into her fingers. They had been clutching it more tightly than they thought, holding onto the mask (Cherri’s soul, her mind whispered) as if that would bring him magically back home.

It wasn’t the pain of the mask’s edges that made her cry.

“Destroya, Cherri-“ they wiped fiercely at their eyes. “Could you have picked a worse-“ sniffle- “fucking time?” There was no response, of course, but Newsie went on. “If you could just-“ sniffle- “have picked a fucking time when-“ sniffle- “when I wasn’t already sad? And-“ sniffle- “couldn’t you just fucking come home?” Their voice broke on the last word, rendering coherent speech impossible, but they managed to choke out a small “You fucker.”

The rest of the room was still silent.

The next morning, Newsie slid Cherri’s bright pink ray gun into her spare holster, tucked the mask into her bag, and tromped down to breakfast. She avoided the other’s eyes, knowing the walls of the radio station were thin. Thankfully, everyone else seemed no more eager to meet their eyes, and it was a quiet breakfast before they all split off to search again.

All their search turned up was empty desert, day after day, and it wasn’t exactly easy to cling to hope when there hadn’t been any supplies missing from the radio station either. So Cherri Cola was out in the desert without food and water, and had been for three days.

“He’s not dead.”

The others looked over at her. It was dinner that night, another silent meal of power pup as everyone tried not to look at Cherri’s empty place.

“I know it seems like he should be. But he’s not dead,” Newsie repeated. They didn’t know why it felt so important to say that, but they had to.

“Of course not!” That was Show Pony, looking outraged. “Cola’s lived through too much to just- just die.”

“We have to face the reality-“

“No! Shut up, D. Cherri’s not going to fucking die!”

D sighed. “We have to face the reality that Cherri may not come back.”

Newsie stood and slammed her hands on the table, the sound ringing through the room. “No! Fuck you! I can’t- I refuse to lose my bro- Cherri!”

“I know it’s-“

“No! Fuck you!” They repeated. “I don’t care what you think, he’s not dead!”

D opened his mouth again, but Newsie had had enough. Enough of searching, enough of waiting, enough of sitting there and pretending that everything was fine. Enough of D’s stupid fucking gentle voice, as if any amount of gentleness could soften the blow his words delivered. They turned and fled into the back, pressing a fist to their mouth to muffle the sobs.

No one came to check on her, and Newsie half-wondered in some tired corner of her mind if Cherri was alone like this, wondering if someone would come to find him. And they would have, they would have come find him in a heartbeat if they knew where he was. But no one came to find Newsie, and she curled up alone until her eyes were dry again, falling into an exhausted sleep.

“Hello, child.”

Newsie blinked at the person (bird?) in front of her. “What.”

“I said ‘hello, child’.” The human- bird- whatever- examined her taloned hands.

“Okay, I know what you said, but…what?”

They could have sworn the bird rolled her eyes. “I would hope you’d recognize me, NewsAGoGo.”

“You better not be the fucking Phoenix Witch.”

“Ta-da, it’s me.” The Witch’s voice was deadpan.

Newsie figured if she was going to talk to a fucking deity, she might as well be comfortable. So she sat down on what felt like sand, realizing that she was definitely not where she had fallen asleep. In fact, the landscape here was barren, devoid of buildings or life, and the sky was…purple? Newsie decided it wasn’t even worth questioning.

“So, am I dreaming?”

“Yes, but this is all very real, I assure you.”

“If it’s a dream, how is it real?”

The Witch was definitely rolling her eyes. “I’m a deity. I can talk to people in their sleep. You and your brother- yes, I mean who you’re thinking of- are easier than most, actually. You always had a bit too strong of a connection to the spirit world, NewsAGoGo.”

Her head was fucking spinning. “You can read my mind? Wait, Cherri is connected to you the same way? Where is he? Is he alive?”

“Yes, yes, can’t tell you, for now.”

“Why can’t you fucking tell me?”

“Can’t meddle with fate too much, now, can I?”

“You’re a goddess. You’re the goddess of fate.”

“I won’t mess with the threads I wove, NewsAGoGo.”

Newsie glared at her. “Can you at least tell me if he’s going to be okay?”

“No can do.” The Phoenix Witch seemed annoyingly casual about the whole business.

“Fuck you! Fuck you, I want to see my fucking brother!”

“You want to see him?”

“Can you do that?”

“I am a deity.” The Witch waved her clawed hand, sending them both spinning through the dreamscape, dissolving into a blur of colors and shapes before they reformed in what seemed to be the actual desert, stars twinkling above them. They were standing over what first appeared to be a dead body, and Newsie soon realized was Cherri. He was slumped in the sand, eyes closed and skin sunburned, and the more she looked, the more he seemed like he was dead.

“Is he- is-“ Newsie’s throat wouldn’t form the words, even in a dream.

“He’s not dead. Yet.”

“Is he going to die?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Why bring me here? Why show me him?”

“You asked.” The Witch shrugged. “I was feeling indulgent. But the reason I bothered to visit you at all wasn’t because of your brother.”

“Then, pray tell, what the fuck was it?”

The Phoenix Witch was smiling, not unkindly. “You, NewsAGoGo, don’t know just how much you’re worth. You refuse to believe you’re loved, even if you are.”

Newsie jerked away from her gaze. “Shut up.”

The Witch laughed. “You’re a bold one, aren’t you? But not bold enough to face the truth. The truth is, NewsAGoGo, that if your Cherri survives, it will be because of his love for you. He loves you so much, you know. Thinks of you as his sibling, and refers to you like that too.”

Newsie glanced down at the figure in the sand. “Didn’t know he ever did that.”

“Oh, all the time. He’s so proud to know you and be your friend. He might be bad at saying it, but oh does he love you. And so do Show Pony and DJ Hot Chimp and my favorite Dr. Death Defying.”

It might have been petty of her, but “They didn’t come to find me.”

“Not today, no. And they’ve dropped the ball on that a lot. But it’s not for a lack of caring, only a lack of knowledge. Your friends do not know how to get through to you. They’re trying, but they haven’t figured it out yet. They don’t know what to say or do to comfort you and make you believe that you’re loved. You all speak different languages when it comes to love. They’re trying to learn how to speak yours. If you try to understand theirs, you’ll find that they’re practically yelling ‘I love you’.” The Witch’s words were blunt, but there was a strange sort of sympathy on her bird-like face.

Newsie stared at the sand. “Just take me home.”

“As you wish.” She waved her clawed hand and the desert twisted, returning to the dreamscape from before. A bracelet clinked against her wrist as she did, and Newsie could have sworn it looked familiar.

“Hey, what’s-“ Before they could finish their question, the dreamscape vanished and they woke with a jolt and a cry of “Cherri!” on their lips. Although there was no evidence to indicate the Witch had been there at all, Newsie remembered the dream clear as anything, right down to Cherri’s still form.

“Cherri!”

They heard footsteps outside, and Pony came hurrying in. “Newsie? Newsie, sugar?”

“Cherri!” It seemed like all she could say. “I saw- he’s- he’s alive but he’s almost dead but-“

“Oh, hon…”

“No, I swear, Pone. He’s alive.”

D was there too, somehow, squeezing Newsie’s hand. “Are you sure?”

“I know I sound like I’m imagining shit, but the Phoenix Witch showed me.” She could picture his body clear as day. “Showed up in my dreams, said nothing helpful except that he wasn’t dead yet.” Newsie left out the rest of what the Phoenix Witch had said. They didn’t need to know that.

There was genuine worry in his eyes. “Did she show you anything about where he was?”

“Fucking nothing, because of course we can’t ‘meddle with fate’.”

It didn’t even occur to Newsie until later that the worry in D’s eyes wasn’t just for Cherri.

That worry didn’t go away, since they still couldn’t find Cherri. It somehow seemed more hopeless now that she had gotten a glimpse of him- he was so close, and yet so far away. And by the end of the next week, Newsie had almost given up. There hadn’t been any word of Cherri, and they hadn’t seen a single glimpse of him in their search. Newsie knew he wouldn’t have survived a week out in the desert in that state, but something kept her from taking his mask to the mailbox. Maybe it was hope, maybe it was sheer spite. Cherri might be fucking dead but that didn’t mean she had to accept it.

The others didn’t seem to have accepted it either- neither of them had brought up Cherri’s mask at all, and Newsie didn’t see why she should. In fact, no one brought it up until the end of that week.

“If-“ D’s voice was as smooth as ever, trained by his years of being a DJ, but Newsie thought she caught a tiny shake as he paused and went on again. “If Cherri doesn’t come back, we need to know where his mask is.”

“I have it. But we won’t need it.”

“You-“

“He told me where it was. His ray gun, too.”

D sighed, and they couldn’t tell if it was relief or worry. “Good. We might- we probably won’t, but we might need it.”

They didn’t. Because that very afternoon, a knock sounded on the door.

“I’ll get that,” Show Pony said as D rubbed his face tiredly. Ey got up and opened the door, and Newsie could hear a vague bit of conversation before ey shouted something that sounded like ‘Destroya!’.

“Newsie! Dr. D! Get out here!”

Newsie followed eir shout and hurried to the door, ready to demand what the fuck all the fuss was about. But all her words evaporated when she reached the doorway and saw who was standing outside. Three teenagers, yes, but more importantly, a familiar ‘joy in a green jacket.

He seemed to spot her there, giving her a wane smile. “Hey.”

There were a thousand things she wanted to say and no words to say them with, so she settled on “Cherri FUCKING Cola, you complete and utter BASTARD!”

When in doubt, swear a lot. That was a good motto, right? When in doubt, swear and hug people. That was what she proceeded to do, throwing her arms around Cherri and holding him tightly, still swearing all the while. “You fucker, you little dipshit, you absolute dumbass, we thought you were fucking dead! We thought you were fucking dead, fuckwad!”

“I’m sorry, Newsie.” His voice was sincere, but Newsie had over a week’s worth of bottled anger and worry, and they weren’t forgiving him that easily.

“You better fucking be! Rat bastard!”

She was vaguely aware, out of the corner of her eye, that D had rolled out of the station as well, giving Cherri a fierce hug of his own and a fair bit of lecturing. “You scared us all half to death, Cherri!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“He almost died too, but of heatstroke, not of fright,” contributed one of the teenagers.

“That doesn’t make me feel any fucking better,” Newsie muttered. Who were these kids anyways?

“Also, infection and dehydration,” a second added.

Cherri sighed, a familiar tired sound. “Not helping, guys.”

“Who are these fine ‘joys?” Pony asked.

The third teen grinned. “The Terrific Trio! Well, the name is a work in progress. I’m Jet Star. He/him and they/them.”

“Party Poison. They/them. And I’m in charge,” said the one who had added ‘also infection and dehydration’.

The first one snorted. “Kobra Kid. He/him.”

“They saved my life,” Cherri chimed in. Newsie gave them a suspicious look, knowing Cherri’s track record of trusting ‘joys who weren’t all that nice, but if they really had saved his life they couldn’t be half bad.

She was still caught up in hugging Cherri, but she could hear the smile in D’s voice as he next spoke. Well, we’re very glad you did. I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him.”

“NewsAGoGo, she/they.”

“An’ I’m Show Pony. Ey/em.”

Newsie was vaguely aware that the teens came in with them and that D offered them some power pup, but she was more concerned with swearing at Cherri. He tolerated it with a faint smile, clearly aware that he deserved a bit of fucking swearing after all that. He still seemed a little bit battered, and there was a new set of scars on his arms, but he was alive and home. And maybe that was all she could ask for, knowing he was safe as he fiddled with one of his bracelets- but not the usual one. In fact, the bracelet he always fiddled with, the one Newsie had given him, was gone.

Newsie was about ninety percent certain they knew where it was, thinking back to the Witch as he glanced down at his wrist with a soft smile.

“Hey, Newsie, what do you think about making another bracelet?”

#cherri cola #newsagogo #dr. death defying #show pony #ttlofk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days fic #i dont know how to tag #auri writes

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