#i chose to use ai instead of jerk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meggannn · 4 years

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one thing that bugs me within HZD fandom—or at least in a lot of reddit threads and the occasional tumblr note—is how the discussion of Aloy as the chosen one because of the circumstances of her birth always gets reframed around [REDACTED] in a way that discredits Aloy.

I do love the “hero is a rando” stories as much as the next person, but what I like about HZD is that it sets up Aloy to be some incredible savior and then it turns out... well, she might do cool things, but she’s kind of a jerk, actually! and she has every right to not want to help most people when she’s been hurt and mistreated by them for all of her young life.

Aloy is a hero, yes, but not because of her birth, but because she chooses to be one. and it’s a hard choice for her, because her natural inclination is to help herself—which is an understandable trait now that she is old enough to try to give herself what she was denied for nearly twenty years—and I like that they keep stressing that.

now that we’re under the cut I’m gonna talk spoilers.

Aloy is a great fighter and impressive machine-hunter and she is very smart, but that’s not because she’s Elisabet’s clone, but because she had to develop those skills to survive. every part about her personality and skillset can really be attributed to a few key elements about her: being an outcast and shunned and judged for something out of her control, growing up in the wilds in a world full of dangerous machines, not being raised with any sense of family or friends or community, and her feelings of loneliness. everything about her personality and abilities has a tie back to one or several of those things, either as a way to explain them, or overcome them. those were things Aloy did because she chose to chase the mystery of her past, but her Elisabet genes didn’t do them for her.

so it really does bug me when people talk about it as if it’s Elisabet’s acumen that should be given credit when we talk about why Aloy is the hero of her own story. I think we are far enough as a culture that we can acknowledge nurture plays a much bigger role in someone’s personality than nature, even for clones. (and I think this is why the Lightkeeper Protocol was doomed to fail anyway.) I think GAIA, when awake, may eventually struggle with this initially, calling her Elisabet instead of Aloy because it’s Elisabet she misses and wants to see again, and she doesn’t know Aloy at all—but she is an AI, and can adapt quickly.

but why I think it bothers me so much is that this “she’s a natural hero” narrative goes against Rost’s last lesson that he teaches Aloy in the prologue. Aloy’s flaws are that she is selfish and often self-centered, and doesn’t rely a lot on others, often to the point of discrediting their abilities. she barges into the Hunters Lodge and demands Talanah take her on as a thrush based on her own assumption that she’s as good a hunter, if not better, than most of the people in the building. she says “I’m faster on my own” to Erend’s incredulity, implying others would just slow her down. they’re completely understandable foibles for someone who has been alone and shunned by the world her entire life and learned to survive because of it.

but Aloy isn’t strong or smart or brave because she was a clone of Elisabet. she could have walked away from seeking revenge against the Eclipse, and arguably, she might have even done it if she hadn’t had a personal interest in the matter: finding out who Elisabet was. Sylens even calls her out multiple times for her short-sightedness in focusing on “what happened to Elisabet?” instead of "what happened to the world?” (I think in ELEUTHIA-9 she says something like "This is interesting, but it's not why I'm here though" and Sylens says sarcastically "Right, what's the whole of human history compared to the origins of one girl?")

again: it’s completely understandable that the girl raised with no family is looking for, y’know, her family, but I think it’s also a pointed choice by the writers: Aloy doesn’t really feel like she belongs to a tribe, so she feels, in some sense, that she has nothing to lose by antagonizing and refusing help to anyone. what are they going to do, banish her? her one lifeline is Rost: it’s her love for him, and his last act of sacrifice for her, that propels her self-centered (though by no means wrong) desire of “I need to find where I came from” to “these people are killers who threaten what I believe in,” and “they will kill again, and even if they will hurt the people who hurt me, many of whom I still dislike, I must do my best to stop them.”

the biggest scene that shows her laser focus on her own interests to the extent of others’ is when Erend asks her for help tracking Ersa’s killer and she denies him without the player's input. I thought that was an interesting choice because the game is canonically telling us that Aloy will barge her way past allies to get what she wants, and she will not be nice about it. like, Erend, a man grieving, tries to get her to stop for two seconds to hear out his ask for help, and she says “Out of the way” and “That’s your war, not mine.” Normally games might give you a choice to say yes or no to helping an ally, even if the game will eventually force you help them to progress the story; but the writers made a choice to show her denying a friend help, just after he helped her. It shows she’s still at the point in her journey where she sees others either as allies to help her or as foes in her way, and she might help allies if she makes time for it on her own (side quests), but when she's impatient and picks up the scent of her prey, she’s willing to ignore others’ needs.

it’s honestly debatable if she would have even cared so much about seeking revenge against the Eclipse if Helis hadn’t killed Rost: certainly she may have been interested in seeing them punished for their ambush against a bunch of Nora teenagers, but she mentions Rost the most consistently when she talks about tracking down Helis, not even Vala or the other Braves (RIP). even to Sylens, who didn’t know any of them, she says “You [didn’t say you knew the man] who killed my... who almost killed me.” (also, sob forever that Aloy still can’t call him her dad even after he’s dead, only “the man who raised her.” Rost really did not teach her to ever call him “Dad.” it’s no wonder why she was so focused on finding at least one parent, a mother, who is centered throughout Nora culture.) but the Nora ambush, while a factor, is still kind of... a side thing. she is most interested in their connection to this mysterious woman-who-might-be-her-mother, and the mystery of why they tried to kill her. people just assume that she is after them out of vengeance for the Nora, and she does not correct them as she uses her Seeker title to explore her own interests.

and speaking of Sylens, I think they are great foils for each other just for this reason: Aloy immediately senses there’s something she doesn’t like about him from basically the moment he makes contact. he’s prickly, arrogant, impatient, unsympathetic, and hates to play nice or work as a team. but like... are they really all that different? I think that Aloy sees Sylens in her future if she doesn’t learn to get along with people. like Aloy, Sylens is definitely rude to you, but I hope you realize you, too, are also pretty rude to others as well! (though you could argue this is a game mechanic so she can ask the questions that the player might be wondering.)

this is not all to say that she’s dispassionate or uncaring, or that her mission isn’t sympathetic or understandable. she helps people out, but her goal driving the story, her True North in a way, is really her own interest to find out who she is and where she came from. one of the significant moments she grows in this regard is when she comes out of ELEUTHIA-9 and decides to fight for the Nora, and for the entire world. she just discovered the truth of her birth isn't what she wanted, and she even thinks afterwards that she’s “not a person, just an instrument.” she’s devastated. what on earth does it mean, that she’s a “recreation” of Elisabet? they don’t have words for “clone” in her world—she thinks it means she’s literally not a human being. she doesn’t want a grand destiny to save the world, she just wants to find her mother and have that sense of belonging she was denied for so long, and she didn’t find that—turns out, she never had that. and now she’s being expected to take on this huge burden about restoring GAIA and fighting subfunctions that she doesn’t understand. both of her “mothers" are dead and there are a bunch of people waiting outside the bunker for her to tell them what their goddess is saying.

so when she walks out of that bunker and sees a bunch of scared, hopeful faces looking at her for answers, her decision to fight HADES—not just on behalf of GAIA but on behalf of the Nora and Carja and Oseram and all others—is her accepting that even though she isn’t what she thought and didn’t get what she wanted, she needs to help others because she is a still part of this world and can make a difference. that’s what makes her heroic. her hero-worship of Elisabet is understandable, but it’s not what’s going to get her through the next challenges in her life—only her own growth and commitment to doing good will do that.

when she tells Rost “if I’m going to fight for something, it’s going to be something I believe in,” I think that was her saying “I’ll fight for that something, but if I find it, I think I’ll end up finding it on my own, and it won’t be with the Nora.” at that time in her journey, she was running the Proving to get something for herself, not to serve the Nora, which she would have been expected to do normally if she had successfully completed it. but she does find something to believe in, and it is with the Nora, both physically in the mountain, and in the spirit of any community: it’s not Elisabet herself, like she thought, but it is what Elisabet stood for, and died for. she may not fully understand what GAIA or the subfunctions are yet, but she knows that their survival and mutual cooperation are necessary for the betterment of people now and civilizations everywhere. she isn’t really fighting for Elisabet or the Old Ones, or I don’t think so, at least—I think it is a factor to do all of this in Elisabet’s memory, in some way, but mostly I think she’s fighting for people alive today. it’s the same conclusion Elisabet came to: the Old Ones are doomed, but people of the future might still have a chance, and that chance is worth her dedication.

but how how a lonely girl ends up fighting to save the world when she barely understands it or the people in it, is an interesting challenge. for this reason I also expect to see her faults in full display in the sequels. Aloy’s tactlessness is a big flaw of hers when it comes to her dismissiveness and occasional derision toward any religion/cultural traditions she doesn’t understand or value. she works through this in some way over the course of the story, like when she decides to spare the Nora the truth of their goddess with an easy lie after leaving ELEUTHIA-9, but particularly in the DLC (which can take place at any point in the story), she challenges a werak to become the chieftan of a tribe she knows very little about, just to get something for herself: she wants to further her goal of investigating AI. I expect this trait of hers will be something we see more of in future games, her barging into a community she doesn’t know anything about and telling them how to do things for their own good. (I call it the “Solas Problem” from Dragon Age Inquisition.) she might be right most of the time, but she also needs to learn how to talk to the people she’s trying to save, and learn how to save them without changing who they are.

#horizon zero dawn #horizon stuff #aloy

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autobots-and-their-crazy-kids · 3 years

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Reviewing Autobot Humans:

⭐ = Full Star

✨ = Half Star

Spike Witwicky, Carly Spencer and Chip Chase from The Transformers;

Each of these humans may have simple personalities (which is fair, since this cartoon was made in the 1980s), but each of them are smart and talented in their own fields.

Spike and his dad are great at building things, while Carly specializes in electronics as well as chemistry and Chip is a computer genius.

The original Autobot human allies were awesome and yet they’re sadly underrated and sometimes even forgotten.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ for all of them!

T-AI and Koji Onishi from Robots In Disguise;

T-AI was basically the human-looking robotic girl of Transformers before Sari from TFA made it cool.

She’s a helpful hologram with a heart full of hope.

But she does have her sassy and snarky moments too.

*Meanwhile, Koji is a bright and brave boy who teams up with the Autobots to get his genius dad back from Megatron, but his personality isn’t as memorable compared to Autobot humans from other Transformers media.

He’s also able to see the good in Skybyte before the Autobots did and asks Skybyte to give his dad a present for his birthday.

His love for his kidnapped parent convinced Skybyte to free Koji’s father from Megatron’s grasp.

⭐⭐⭐⭐ for T-AI

⭐⭐⭐✨ for Koji

The Children from Unicron Trilogy’s Armada;

The personalities of the Armada kids are pretty generic and kinda boring, but it’s pretty badass that Alexis managed to help Starscream to change for the better.

Alexis is the only human so far to convince a Decepticon to become an Autobot.

And it makes sense that Starscream and Alexis get along considering that they both can be control freaks sometimes! XD

⭐⭐ for Rad

⭐⭐⭐✨ for Alexis

⭐⭐ for Carlos

⭐ for Billy

⭐ for Fred

Sari Sumdac from Transformers Animated;

Sari is a unique as well as interesting character with a quirky personality and plays a special role in the world of TFA.

Sari spend most of her life isolated from the rest of the world in her dad’s building where he creates his inventions. Although her father loved her more then anything, he usually too busy to spend time with her, so he created non-sentient robots to educate, entertain and comfort her. Most kids around her age think she’s too weird and avoid her as well, so the Autobots basically became her first and only friends.

Sari is also a cyborg. (However, TFA prefers to use the term ‘techno-organic’.)

⭐⭐⭐⭐✨, I’d give her five, but her origins are never properly explained and I’m not a big fan of how her upgraded form looks... (Love her battle armor though...)

Jack Darby, Raf Esquivel and Miko Nakadai from Transformers Prime;

Jack is the one with the most common sense of the three and he is sometimes shown to act like a leader to them. But unfortunately most of it is wasted potential. His personality is pretty generic as well and all we know about his interests is that he likes motorcycles and girls. There was one episode where it’s implied that he likes camping and nature too, but it’s never brought up again. His single nurse mom has more personality then him.

Raf is a genius yet a sweetheart. While Jack has little personality and Miko has way too much personality, Raf has the perfect amount of personality. He’s like a younger version of Chip from G1. I feel he should’ve been the one Optimus chose as an honorary Prime instead of Jack, cause Raf’s personality is quite similar to Orion’s. However, it does drive me crazy how he can understand Bumblebee and we never get a proper explanation... (It’s like Sari’s origins all over again!)

Miko is very different from Jack, but they share one thing in common: they both have wasted potential and lack proper character development. She keeps making reckless, irresponsible decisions that sometimes cause life-threatening problems and never gets properly scolded or punished by the Autobots for it. (Though to be fair, the Autobots should’ve made sure that she doesn’t keep sneaking through the groundbridge.) However, I will give her credit for her loyalty to her friends and taking responsibility for her actions. I honestly think she would’ve benefited more if she got Arcee for a partner instead of Bulkhead, cause Arcee is less of a pushover and might’ve helped Miko mature better.

⭐⭐⭐ for Jack

⭐⭐⭐⭐ for Raf

⭐⭐✨ for Miko

Russell Clay from Robots In Disguise (2015);

He’s a nice kid, but unfortunately he suffers the same problem Jack Darby had: his single parent having a more interesting personality then him.

⭐⭐

The Burns Family from Rescue Bots;

Charlie is truly a legend with the patience of a saint, having to raise four kids. (Even though three of them are older, they still act like kids sometimes...)

I don’t hate Kade, but he’s kind of a egotistic jerk sometimes and his appearance looks a bit off compared the character designs of the other main characters.

Graham is a chill, mellow guy and a little less crazy then his siblings, but he doesn’t have a lot of personality compared to the rest of his family or his alien robot partner.

Dani is pretty cool and is basically a more mature version of Miko, though she can also be hotheaded.

Cody is basically the ‘Sari Sumdac’ of the Aligned Continuity. He’s a brave, kind and sometimes sassy kid that teaches giant alien robots about the human world and gets neglected by his busy family to do important things even though they love him. Without the cyborg plot twist. But Cody is also his own character. From the start of the show, he wished to be a hero just like the rest like his courageous family, so he could spend more time with them.

⭐⭐⭐✨ for Charlie

⭐⭐ for Kade

⭐⭐ for Graham

⭐⭐✨ for Dani

⭐⭐⭐⭐✨ for Cody

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rubykgrant · 3 years

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I’m gonna ramble about the Director and Allison, because I have all these background thoughts with them, and I’m not sure if it’ll come up in my story-line much, but still... I thinks me thoughts-

I’ve never been shy about trash-talking the Director, or as I like to call him, Dr Sadboy McDeadwife. Oh sure, he certainly had a lot of tragedy in his life, he lost people he cared about, and I have perhaps a drop of sympathy for him... but, y’know, he also used his loss as motivation to manipulate and torture people, basically getting everybody around him killed, just to fulfill his own agenda. Basically, he sucks (and I’m not slamming anybody who enjoys his character; we all have a jerk in our favorite collection, and just from a story point of view, he’s a very interesting character). Like many “I’d kill for the one I love” characters, he loses perspective; would Allison want him to turn Project Freelancer into a front for his personal experiments with AI? No, she seems to have been somebody that cared about human life and genuinely wanted people to survive the war. Instead of actually solving problems or protecting people, the Director used Freelancers for gathering equipment, causing all kinds of internal power-struggles on Earth... he even helped start the false “Red Team/Blue Team” propaganda, getting people to sign up for a totally fake war with fake armies but with REAL weapons, which got many of them REALLY killed. The Freelancers robbed office buildings and played capture the flag. Down the road, this created the Flag Zealots and the incident with Temple’s group. Would Allison want him to IGNORE THEIR DAUGHTER, the person who was still alive, the person they had brought into the world together? I very much doubt it. If he HAD somehow gotten Allison back, would she still want HIM? In the end, he finally realized he couldn’t get what he wanted, and so he gave up (in a very final way). Perhaps he saw it as poetic punishment, but... it would have been nice if he had, at least, left behind something besides a legacy of ruin. The first AI he created, Alpha, was gone. As were the others. The only one left was the memories of Epsilon, who still had so many questions regarding what/why/how in terms of his own existence. There were still several Freelancers out there, now wanted criminals on the run for their lives or locked up. The Director saw the AI as extensions of his own mind, selfishly believing that the pain he caused them was also inflicted on himself... they certainly felt his pain and were at times consumed by his obsession (in different ways). However, when he began breaking Alpha into pieces, he didn’t break himself as well each time. While he may have been arguably “punished” for his crimes, he didn’t really apologize for them or attempt to fix anything (and if he’d talked to other people... maybe the truth about Charon would have come out sooner. Chorus could have been saved the bloodiest part of their manipulated war).

Allison is more of an enigma, because although we get to know Tex pretty well, “Allison” as herself is only seen vaguely through the memories of the director, and mentioned briefly by Carolina. We know she wanted to help people. We know that she was often absent from Carolina’s life, and hated to say good-bye. We know she unfortunately died before coming back to her family. If I can simply use my own imagination... I can’t help but think that she was very idealistic, and perhaps something she and the Director shared was poor perspective; she lived in a time when humanity’s survival was low, the outlook dreary. Perhaps when she met somebody who was so eagerly devoted to her, she didn’t hesitate to fall recklessly in love as well. No time to take things slow, the world could end tomorrow. Perhaps she wanted children as soon as possible, because this was the only chance to create a new generation. Even if the previous people didn’t survive, humanity still had a chance. Perhaps she didn’t simply stop fighting and decide to stay at home, because that wouldn’t be fair. So many people weren’t able to be with their children, and if she could help end the war, then EVERYBODY would come home. The Director was overly selfish, but Allison was overly SELFLESS, and it wound up hurting others (obviously, Allison had different motivations, so I wouldn’t quite say she’s “equally at fault”... and it sure wasn’t her fault she DIED). Because she cared so much about so many people, Allison accidentally ignored the person who needed her most; Carolina. She was (presumably) only about 6 years old when her mother died, and even then had not been able to see her very often. Again, I can’t blame Allison for the worst of it, because she wasn’t THERE, but she chose not to be there in the beginning... mostly with good intentions, but she simply didn’t think about the results of her actions. The Director was perfectly aware of what he was doing, and didn’t care. Before these actions started hurting the rest of the world, it hurt a little girl first. Carolina lost her mother AND her father (one unfortunately died, and the other just STOPPED being a parent). Some of this is purely my own brain nonsense, because we just don’t KNOW a lot about Allison, or how much over-lap she could have had with Tex’s personality. Speaking of Tex, I always felt that, in the beginning, Alpha hadn’t intended the Beta AI to be a clone of Allison. It was the Director who began putting his own memories of her into the Beta’s program, and because he was so fixated on her death and “failure”, this is was doomed Tex later on. If there was at least one trait that carried over from Allison to Tex, it was her determination. Even when Tex knew she was probably going to fail, she still TRIED.

#my thoughts #red vs blue #project freelancer #the director #leonard church #allison church #ai fragments #agent carolina

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

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No Secrets, Part 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)

Warnings: None in this section

Sam stepped up to your front door carrying a tray with two lattes and a bag of pastries. ‘This is going to suck.’

“Morning sunshine.” You opened the door.

“Thought since you missed out on coffee yesterday, I’d bring you some this morning.” He held out the cups. “How’s your face?”

“Thanks.” You took a sip. “I’m fine. I’ve gotten worse sparring in the gym.”

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t scare the hell out of Bucky.’ Sam dug into the bag. “Cheese danish?”

“No thanks.” You pulled your bare feet under you. “So, Steve told you he ah...”

“Confessed his undying love?” Sam dropped on to the sofa next to you. “Yeah, but he hasn’t talked to Bucky. I don’t know why.”

“Peggy.” You provided. “Steve’s carrying around a sort of guilt. He gave his whole heart to Peggy and loving someone is like betraying that, somehow.”

“And Barnes is the only one around who knew her.” Sam was a lot more observant than people gave him credit for. “So is Steve afraid of being judged or he scared to admit that Bucky’s got it bad for you, too?”

You wondered that yourself. In fact, you’d sat up most of the night thinking about Steve and Bucky. This condition afforded you a great deal more information than you ever could have imagined. But with a man like Steve, or a man like Bucky for that matter, you were thankful.

Sam misunderstood your silence. “If it’s obvious to me, it’s got to be like flashing neon signs to you. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” Sam sputtered. ‘Are you fucking kidding? That’s so wrong! They’ll kill each other.’

“Sam,” You put down your coffee and took his hand. “Damn, you are such a good friend. Answer something for me. Has Bucky ever come on to me? Ever overtly hit on me?”

“I mean, he’s joked. We all have. But, no, not his style.”

You nodded. “I was given some sage advice when this happened. I was told to not judge people by what they thought, but by what they chose to do.”

“Alright, if you say so. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay?” Sam sat forward. ‘Just keep me clear of the blood bath.’

Steve Rogers couldn’t seem to rest on the flight home. Despite being physically tired, his mind wouldn’t settle down. He wanted to call ahead to say he was on his way home, but it was nearly three in the morning in New York. Instead, he pulled out his laptop and tackled some of the more mundane work of running the Avengers.

He read through reports and approve paperwork for a couple hours when he opened the report requiring payout for a car accident. Multiple vehicles were damaged, minor injuries and the attorney recommended a reasonable settlement as the agent in question was completely at fault.

His eyes locked on your name.

His fingers tightened around the stylus. It took him a moment to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Flipping through the report, he found Sam’s write up. “...stated she sensed the thoughts of the driver behind her attacking his wife. This distracted her, causing the accident. Sergeant Barnes and I were off duty in the area and heard the accident. I recognized the car and we went to investigate. Considering her current condition, the situation was overwhelming to her and we felt it pertinent to remove her from the situation. She had no significant injuries from the accident. I left those impacted by the accident with the contact information for the Compound before leaving the scene.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to breath. You were alright. Sam and Buck were there and took care of you.

Why the hell had you been driving in town?

Checking on the landing time, Steve approved the expense and read through everyone’s statements again. There was less than an hour left before landing. He wondered if it would be alright to wake you, if he called as soon as he made it to his quarters.

The message alert on his phone dinged.

‘Find me when you land, punk.’

After landing, Steve ventured into the common kitchen in search of Bucky. He found his pal slumped over a cup of coffee and the newspaper. "You save any of that for me, jerk."

Bucky pointed at the pot. “Sure did.” He sat back in his chair. “How’d it go?”

“As expected.” Steve poured himself a cup and sat across from Bucky. “Less eventful than your run for teriyaki.”

“I have no idea what the hell she was thinking.” Bucky huffed. “Said she just wanted to go through the coffee shop. I think she’s got cabin fever really bad. But Stevie, you should have seen how shaken she was.”

Steve took a sip of his black coffee, scowling. “How bad was she hurt?”

“Bruise above her left brow. Little bit of burn from the airbag.” Bucky got up and refilled his cup. “Jesus, when I came through that crowd and saw her slumped in the driver’s seat...” He blew out a strong breath. “It’s bad enough when we’re heading into a situation on alert, ready to fight. It’s something completely different when it’s a surprise like that.”

Steve stared as Bucky continued, leaning against the counter.

“I think I freaked out some of the locals. She said she wanted out and I ripped the door clean off the car. I’m glad Sam was thinking, ‘cause I just scooped her up and carried her to the truck. I wasn’t about to let her down or stop to deal with anyone else.”

He sat down, realizing for the first time the intensity of Steve’s stare. “What?”

Steve’s back went stiff. He frowned, before diverting his eyes back to his coffee. “Buck, do you love Y/N?”

“What?” Bucky leaned back with a half laugh. “Of course.”

Steve stood so fast the chair hit the wall behind him. He was gone before Bucky could say anything.

“What the fuck?” Bucky put down his coffee, righted Steve’s chair and followed his friend down the hall. The early morning made it easier to track him without asking for the AI’s help. He was headed for the roof, at least that’s what Bucky guessed.

He stepped out into the early morning air to find Steve standing near the edge, shoulders slumped and a hand pressed into his chest like he used to do as a kid when he had an asthma attack. “Stevie?” Bucky walked up slowly, knowing he didn’t have to raise his voice. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Steve forced himself to take a deep breath, but didn’t turn around. “Does she love you? Has she said that she loves you?”

“Steve.” Bucky came a little closer, but still left some distance. “Talk to me.”

“I told her I love her. Let her know how much, how hard...”

“Oh.” Bucky felt his gut flip over. He knew the gravity of Steve’s confession, knew how hard it was for Steve to let himself love, really love, someone again.

“And you just say ‘of course’ you love her, too.” Steve growled out. “Of all the people in world, Buck, why her?”

“Wait.”

“Of course, you two are always joking and laughing. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. I’m so fucking stupid...”

“You sure are, punk.” Bucky actually smacked him on the back of the head.

“Fuck off.” Steve’s arm swung out and clipped Bucky, but he caught Steve’s arm.

“Shut up and listen, will ya!”

Steve just glared.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about her.” Bucky growled back. “After Peg, well, I know how bad that hurt you.” He watched his best friend’s face crumble. He voice softened, “When did you tell her?”

“Before I left on this last mission.”

“In person?”

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded, considering. “So, she was aware of what you weren’t saying, too.”

“Yes.” Steve’s voice tightened.

“Wow.” Bucky dropped down on one of the iron benches. “What, ah, what’d she say?”

Steve’s hands buried deep into his pockets and he turned his back on his oldest friend. “I asked her not to say anything. We talked, and I told her anything she wanted to know, but I didn’t want her answer if it was a shock.”

“You know she loves you.” Bucky said to his friend’s back.

Steve just barked a mirthless laugh. “Do I? Because my best pal loves her too. Maybe she loves you.”

“Stevie,” Bucky rubbed his forehead. “I would never stand in the way of you being happy, ever.”

“If I asked her now,” Steve frowned. “Would she be able to say she doesn’t know you want her too?”

“Fuck.” Bucky stood up and stalked over to Steve. “Honestly? No. If she’s been in my head, then she knows how beautiful I think she is, how much I want to take care of her, how good she feels. But damn, Steve, that’s in my head. Only. In. My. Head. She’s my friend, our friend. I’ve never behaved in any way that would cross that line. If she’s your girl, I never will.”

“You said you love her.” Steve’s desperately tried to hold on to his anger, but couldn’t.

“I do. I won’t apologize for it. She’s one of my few friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her, too.”

“So are most of the men who know her, hell, most the men who see her.” Bucky shook his head. “Don’t ever use that argument with her, because you know full well women’s panties have been dropping for you since the forties. It doesn’t mean they love you or that you love them.” Steve’s ears went pink. “So, when did you figure out that she wiggled her way past that giant wall of yours?”

Steve ran his hands through his hair, frustration and jetlag leaving him exhausted. “A while ago. Scared the shit out of me. I should have talk to you about it.”

Bucky threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders, “Still can.”

“Won’t that be weird?”

“My best pal is love with the best gal I know.” Bucky laughed. “That I can deal with. I know you’d rather die than break her heart. Now if you told me Sam was in love with her, I’d have to break his legs.”

TAGS:

@asiaaisa77 / @babygurl8840 / @badassbaker / @bangtan-serendipity / @beautifullungs / @buchanansebba / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @imma-new-soul / @jennmurawski13 / @jesseswartzwelder / @kiki5283 / @lbouvet / @michelehansel / @mindtravelsx / @morganhoran1671 / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines / @notyourtypicalrose / @nova3312 / @patzammit / @rainbowkisses31 / @readermia / @rynabarnesrogers / @sammghgecko / @scarlettsoldier / @sebbysstangirl / @sexyvixen7 / @sllooney / @thegetawaywriter / @theneuropsychwriter / @the-omni-princess / @the-reading-octopus / @thorfanficwriter / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21 / @vxidnik / @what-is-your-plan-today / @wildmoonflower / @wwe-fanfiction-queen / @sassy89sworld / @bitchwhytho / @carinacassiopeiae / @jessyballet / @killcomet / @steve-rogers-is-a-saint / @phoenixwench

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fan fiction

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justaghostingon · 4 years

Text

To Blindly Trust

Note: this is a dark interpretation of some of the lore drops Toon has given on the discord about Gyrus’s time period. I read about that utopia and thought, “That’s great, but let’s 1984 this shit.”

For as long as Gyrus could remember, all he’d ever wanted was to know the reason behind everything. He’d pester his Nannybot with questions over and over again. Why was the sky blue? Why did he have to eat this food? If his family’s citizenship was a yellow rank, why wasn’t their house yellow? Where did his shoes come from? Who made them? Why? Why? Why?

His Nannybot tried to answer as best she could, but she wasn’t programed for those kinds of questions. His parents would indulge him for a bit, but eventually they’d send him off with the words, “Because the Cerebrum says so.”

The only one who really seemed to have answers was the family’s ai. It would list off the answers to Gyrus’s many questions for hours on end in a flat voice as he sat before it on shaky toddler legs. But even it eventually gave the answer, “Because the Cerebrum chose so.”

“What is the Cerebrum?” He asked, to which the computer explained, “It is an ai beyond the capabilities of all other ai. It functions as the impartial judge and leader of the planetary collaboration. It alone can make the most important decisions because it alone holds no human bias.”

“Is bias bad?” Gyrus asked, trying to guess what bias meant from how the ai used it.

“Bad and Good are irrelevant terms for the Cerebrum. It knows only calculations and error. Bias causes error. It affects the human mind by making it weaker and unable to calculate correctly.”

“What kinds of errors?” Gyrus asked, feeling lost.

“Bias is placing emotions, loyalties, or prejudices before the facts.” The computer seemed to realize Gyrus was confused and attempted to reassure him by elaborating. “People cling to them, and they cannot see the truth. The Cerebrum has no such weakness.”

“Ok,” Gyrus wiggled his toes. He looked up again at the computer. “But what if the Cerebrum is wrong?”

An hour later and an important looking man showed up at his house. His parent’s voices were high pitched and nervous as they welcomed them in, chattering about how auspicious it was for a White rank to visit. But even as the man stepped inside, his parents made sure to stand with their bodies between him and Gyrus. The man in the suit waved them away, saying they had a very special boy, whom they would like to put in a very special school.

He smiled down at Gyrus as he peaked from behind his parent’s legs, His face was stretched too thin to seem real. “The Cerebrum wants you Gyrus,” he said. “Come with us, and you can know the answers to all your questions.”

No one asked how they knew. But Gyrus saw his mother glower at the family ai with an anger he had never seen on her face. He wondered if this was what bias looked like.

———————

The class he was put in had bright colors splashed on the walls like a technicolor rainbow. Pictures hung around with encouraging sayings like, “Better yourself to better the world!” And “The Cerebrum wants you!” And “Reach to the stars!” The desks were clean and smooth, a shiny keyboard built into the top of each, which was lined with a different primary color. Five other kids sat at the desks, scattered across the room. They looked up at Gyrus as he was ushered to the front, curiosity in their eyes.

Gyrus froze, feeling suddenly nervous. But the adult behind him placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Class, this is Gyrus. He’ll be joining us today. Gyrus, why don’t you tell us about yourself and then we’ll all introduce ourselves too.”

“I’m Gyrus!” Gyrus chirped, putting on his best smile. I’m almost four, and I like space!”

The class stared at him, silent. Gyrus looked down and began to fiddle with his fingers. The teacher’s voice echoed over him, “Psyche, why don’t you go next?”

A little girl in the front row drew herself up to her full height, back straight as a rail. “I’m Psyche,” she said. “I’m four and a quarter!” She plopped herself back down on her red seat at this, looking very pleased with herself.

“Could you say a little more?” the teacher asked with a tight smile.

“Oh!” Psyche hopped back up again. “I like machines!” she exclaimed at the top of her lungs, and sat back down again.

One by one, the other three students stood up and introduced themselves. Agnes was five and liked plants. Virgil was four and a half and liked books. Lestra was almost five and wanted to know everything the Cerebrum did.

There was only one left, a grumpy looking boy with his arms crossed over his body and a scowl on his lips. “Jeremiah.” The teacher’s voice was gentle. “It’s your turn.”

The boy called Jeremiah stuck out his chin and turned away. “Jeremiah!” The teacher’s voice fell like a anvil on the class. The boy’s brow furrowed, but he eventually turned back towards Gyrus.

“Jeremiah,” his voice was clipped. “From Cassandra.”

Gyrus’s ears pricked up as he heard that name. Cassandra was a planet that used to host a colony. He’d asked his family’s ai so many questions about it, but it had never been able to answer them to his satisfaction. Maybe this boy could!

The teacher sent Gyrus to take a seat. He slid into a yellow desk, which reminded him slightly of home. The teacher started to teach.

Gyrus kept sneaking glances over at Jeremiah throughout the lecture. He was pushing random buttons on his keyboard, clearly bored. Gyrus was hopeful though. Maybe they could be friends?

As soon as it was recess, Gyrus went straight to Jeremiah’s desk. “Hi!” he said, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m Gyrus!”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “I know. You said.”

Gyrus was a little confused by the cold reception. But he shook it off. He had remembered his name! That was good! “Cassandra’s in the Helen quadrant. What’s it like?”

A dark cloud passed over Jeremiah’s face. “Cassandra’s gone,” he snarled.

Gyrus frowned. Because he’d only asked a question. He didn’t need to lie. “No its not. Cassandra’s classified. The ai said.”

“Shut up!” Jeremiah shoved Gyrus, sending him tumbling down. “What’s a baby know? Just repeating what the ai says, like a baby!”

Gyrus’s eyes welled up with tears. He’d never been pushed before and he didn’t like it at all. “Jeremiah!” The teacher’s voice came like a hurricane on them all. “Come with me!” The teacher dragged Jeremiah away as he struggled in their arms.

The other kids gathered around Gyrus. “It’s ok.” Psyche put a small hand on Gyrus’s arm. “He’s just mean. We can be your friends instead, ok?”

Gyrus rubbed his nose with his hand, but he nodded.

———————

Gyrus grinned to himself feeling on top of the world. Today would mark the start of the class’s greatest honor, for teams of two to design a project to be submitted for review by the Cerebrum itself! He caught Psyche’s eye from across the room and gave her a wink. She returned it with a sly grin. The two of them already knew what project they wanted to work on, a new engine faster than light speed with two engines.

The partners hadn’t been picked yet, but it was practically a done deal. With only six people in the class they divided pretty easily, and with ten years together, everyone had gotten pretty set in their ways. Gyrus with Psyche, Agnes with Virgil. Even Lestra didn’t mind being paired with Jeremiah, because it meant she got to do all the work.

The teacher clapped their hands. “All right class, it’s time to pick your partners!” Gyrus leaned back in his chair, already planning what materials he and Psyche could ask for. Working for the Cerebrum meant even K-42 was an option, but they’d best be absolutely certain their new design would work before they requested something so integral to space travel. “Jeremiah,” the teacher’s voice cut through Gyrus’s thoughts. “You pick first.”

Gyrus choked, losing his balance on his chair and nearly toppling backwards. He caught himself on an empty desk and righted himself quickly, humiliation tainting the worry growing in the pit of his stomach. Jeremiah had been stirring up trouble since the day Gyrus had met him, and age had done nothing to soften him up. Gyrus and the others tried to be inclusive and let him play with them or join in activities as the years passed, but he had always either refused or agreed simply to pick a fight. Not a physical fight, not since their first year, but his intelligence knew no bounds and he was determined to use it to verbally destroy anything that stood in his way. Nothing was sacred, not even the Cerebrum. He was only fifteen, and already it was rumored he was one bad deed away from black mark on his citizenship ranking.

So him going first was a sure fire guarantee for trouble. He seemed to know it too, smirking at his class as they watched him in silent horror. “I get to go first? That’s a first. And on such an important event too, a project for your precious Cerebitch.”

“Jeremiah!” snapped the teacher. “Pick now or go last.”

“Ok, ok,” Jeremiah held out his hands in mock surrender. “I pick Mr. Popular over there.” His thumb jerked to the side, pointing directly between Gyrus’s eyes. “Gyrus,” Jeremiah added as if to rub in what everyone already knew.

Gyrus felt his heart plummet. This was bad, no this was terrible. His first big break, and he would have to work with Jeremiah. Psyche peaked at him from her desk, face full of sympathy, but he couldn’t bear to look at her. Nausea rose in his stomach as he looked at the face of his new partner for the rest of the year, Jeremiah.

———————

“...he doesn’t even like me! Why would he choose to partner with me? Does he really hate me that much? Now what am I gonna do? He’s gonna ruin the biggest project of my life!” Gyrus ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in frustration.

He looked over at the family’s ai. It didn’t speak for a long second. Finally it said, “There are many possible motivations for Jeremiah’s actions, but without further evidence results are inconclusive and not worth bothering over. Instead of complaining, work around this set back. If possible, persuade him to be productive for the good of the group.”

Gyrus crossed his arms. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Analyst of human behavior finds that most humans respond positively to signs of affection, and usually fall into line after repeated exposure,” the ai blinked its light at Gyrus.

Gyrus rolled his eyes and stormed off, slamming the door to his room shut and collapsing on his bed. The ai’s advice, usually so helpful, was completely useless in this case. He’d already tried being nice to Jeremiah, they all had! It was Jeremiah wasn’t nice, who sat in his corner and refused to leave it, unless it was to pick a fight.

The sound of laughter drifted through his window. Gyrus peaked out to see a group of kids kicking a ball around in the park down below his apartment. They looked to be about his age, and Gyrus leaned closer, watching them run and laugh and play. He wondered what their names were, and what school they went to. He couldn’t go down and find out, he had homework to do, and a very regimented exercise schedule he couldn’t break. But that didn’t stop him from watching the figures below play.

An image of Jeremiah crossed his mind then, sitting alone at his little table while the others laughed in the center of the room. He had been watching them, a scowl on his lips, but his eyes had followed Gyrus’s hands as he described how far a gear had flown off an invention. He’d looked away when Gyrus had smiled at him, but he didn’t leave.

“It must be lonely,” a voice whispered in his mind. “To always watch from the outside.” Gyrus shook his head, trying to get rid the thought.

“He’s still a jerk,” he pointed out to himself. The other voice was distinctly silent. Gyrus threw his hands up and slammed them into his pillow as his mind ran through his knowledge of defensive behavior and basic psychology. He groaned, but eventually slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he mumbled into his pillow. “I can be nice.”

The next day he took his lunch and purposely moved to sit beside Jeremiah at his small table.

Jeremiah stared at him like he was an alien, to shocked to put up an angry front. “What are you doing?” his voice was flat.

Gyrus gave him his best smile. “I’m sitting with you!”

“Who said you could sit here?” Jeremiah snapped back, traces of his old fire returning.

“You did,” Gyrus replied. “When you chose me to be your partner, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean I want a mindless Cerebitch drone like you hanging around me,” Jeremiah snarled, face invading Gyrus’s personal space.

“Too bad,” Gyrus took a bite of his sandwich and took care to keep his face completely neutral. “Pickles?”

——————

And thus began Operation Friendship. Every lunch Gyrus would sit next to Jeremiah. Every day after school he would run to catch the train home with him. Every morning he would wait until he arrived and enter with him. It wasn’t easy. Jeremiah wasn’t one to go down without a fight. But Gyrus was determined. No matter how much Jeremiah insulted or yelled at Gyrus, no matter how much he tried to hide from him or take shady routes through neighborhoods with S.M.I.L.E. druggies loitering in corners, no matter what he couldn't get rid of him.

“I know what you’re doing,” Jeremiah snapped one day at lunch. Gyrus looked up from his lunch, leftover Mandu, a real treat. “And it’s not going to work. I’m never going to help on your stupid fascist project.” He crossed his arms and smirked at Gyrus, as if this somehow made him win.

“Ok.” Gyrus took another bite of his sandwich and chewed it slowly.

“Did you hear me? I’m not going to help you so you might as well leave!” Jeremiah snapped.

“Oh I heard you.” Gyrus nodded, looking down at his sandwich. “But you weren’t doing anything anyway. So it’s not like anything really changes.” He smiled at Jeremiah. “Hey! Do you think that next class they’ll let us use the explosives in the lab? I think I’ve gotten better at controlling the explosions.”

Jeremiah let out a very frustrated scream.

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

“How about this?” Jeremiah interrupted Gyrus’s rendition of a funny incident involving lost Nano technology, a S.M.I.L.E press gang, and their government official on a train. “I’ll invite you over. Show you a few tricks your dumb drone mind can’t comprehend, and then you leave me alone?”

Gyrus frowned, because he’d thought he’d been rather funny, and because he had not been expecting an offer to be made. “And lose your company for the rest of the year?”

“Oh please we both know you don’t like me at all,” Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

That hurt a bit, and Gyrus tried not to outwardly wince. He had begun to grow fond of Jeremiah, once you looked past his rough exterior. But he supposed it wouldn’t look that way to him. Maybe he should take a different strategy.

“How about this instead. You come over to my place today, and we spend the afternoon together and forget about the project?” He peaked at Jeremiah through his bangs.

Jeremiah frowned, “And then you leave me alone?”

“And then we have fun together,” Gyrus replied. “Like normal kids.”

Jeremiah did not look convinced.

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

Gyrus was beginning to feel like the whole plan was spiraling out of control. He’d thought it was over, at first. That there was no way that Jeremiah would come over it his house. But after school he had walked right up to Gyrus, bag over his shoulder and a scowl on his lips. “Where to?” he’d asked.

For a second Gyrus had been to shocked to answer. Then a strange sensation of absolute joy began to fill his whole core. “Follow me!” He beamed at Jeremiah, who looked away.

He’d taken Jeremiah to his house and showed him his room, his makeshift lab, and his workout place, expecting them to spend the time there. But Jeremiah had taken one look out the window and said, “Let’s go and hang out at the park.”

Gyrus had tried to point out what a bad idea that was, they had homework to do, they had to keep a very regimented fitness standard, and that sport only really worked on leg strength and endurance, which was very impractical...

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow. “If you’re so against this, why have you taken the time to analyze how it fits into the exercise regiment?”

Gyrus had not had a response to that.

And that was how Gyrus had ended up in the park, facing a group of kids whose names he didn’t know but who he’d watched from his window for years. What was he even supposed to say? He gave an awkward wave. “Hi, I’m Gyrus!”

“Jeremiah,” Jeremiah added, hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked completely at ease, as if they were not breaking an unspoken rule that had been drilled into them since they were children.

The boys looked at each other. “I’m Will,” one said, stepping out from the lineup. “And this is Phillip, Miguel, Navieen, Taro, and Dahveed.” There was a pause where the eight of them all just looked at each other, uncertain of what to do next. Finally Will continued in a half-hearted attempt to fill the silence, “Do you play soccer?”

“Sure,” Jeremiah replied before Gyrus had a chance to explain that no, they really didn’t. Will smiled.

And that was how Gyrus found himself playing a sport he had only seen through a window. It was simple, too simple, and in its simplicity was honestly hard. The training regiment he’d used his whole life had trained him to run and lift, not to dodge or dribble. By the end he was so exhausted he collapsed on the ground, certain he had failed completely.

So he was surprised when Will said, “You guy’s are pretty good. Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

Jeremiah raised a hand from where he lay collapsed beside Gyrus. “Crazy.” He pointed at himself. “Future government drone,” He turned his finger to Gyrus. “They don’t let us out much.”

“Jeremiah!” Gyrus snapped, using the last of his strength to prop himself up on his elbows and glare at him. “We’re with the Young Genius Program,” he explained, giving Will and the others a smile.

Miguel whistled, “Damn that’s like an automatic red rank! You really are future government drones.” Taro hit him and the others’ faces creased in alarm.

“Don’t mind him,” Taro said as Miguel rubbed his cheek. “He’s just an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jeremiah drawled. “We’re not going to report you. Right Gyrus?” he turned his head to face him.

Gyrus shrugged, “I don’t really see what the big deal is, so sure. But one thing,” he looked severely at the boys. They watched him back with apprehension. “I’m not going into government, I’m going into space!”

Jeremiah let out a bark of laughter, and soon the others followed suit. “There you have it!” Jeremiah chuckled. “A space case if there ever was one.”

They laughed a little longer. Finally Will said, “We play here after school every day. You’re welcome to come and play again if you have the time.”

Gyrus’s pulse raced with excitement at the prospect to play again, but then felt a wave of worry wash it away. They didn’t mean him, they meant both of them. He glanced over at Jeremiah.

Jeremiah was silent for a second, then shrugged. “Sure,” he said, his eyes meeting Gyrus’s. “We’d love to.”

Gyrus stared back at Jeremiah, and knew something had changed.

-----------

From then on, Jeremiah’s behavior towards Gyrus changed drastically. He was still rude about the Cerebrum, still mocked Gyrus for his dream of space, still skipped out on homework. But he quit complaining about Gyrus eating lunch with him, and every day he would wait at the school gate for Gyrus to walk home. At first Gyrus thought this was because he wanted to play soccer, and had reluctantly reminded him that they really couldn’t play every day. But Jeremiah had just shrugged and kept walking beside Gyrus, as if he hadn’t heard. The next day he was waiting outside, looking very bored, and Gyrus smiled.

“I have an idea,” he proposed from where he sat at the low table in his makeshift lab. Jeremiah glanced at him from his position reclining on a bean bag pillow. “For our project.”

Jeremiah groaned and started to roll away, but Gyrus raised his hand. “Just hear me out! What if we made something for soccer?”

“Unless you’re trying to reinvent the ball, you’ve been beaten for a few millennia.” Jeremiah stretched and settled down again in the bean bag, his back to Gyrus.

“Then we’ll make something for space and soccer. Astronauts and early settlers, everyone always designs practical things for them to use. Why don’t we bring them a little fun?”

Jeremiah slowly turned to look back at Gyrus. “You really want to present a soccer invention to your precious Cerebitch?! Ha!” He threw back his head and let out a peal of laughter. “What happened to the straight-laced future drone I used to know?”

Gyrus frowned. “Improvement of quality of living is an important part of progress. People will work harder if they have something to look forward too.”

“And the old Gyrus is back.” Jeremiah rolled his eyes. Then he drew himself up into a sitting position on the bean bag. “Fine. Let’s present the Cerebitch with the weirdest waste of time its ever seen.”

Gyrus’s heart felt light as he pulled out at notebook. “I have a few ideas already!”

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

The next few weeks found Gyrus on top of the world. Jeremiah, for all his lazy ways, was very intelligent, and his skill in item design surpassed even Gyrus’s. He vetoed all most every invention Gyrus came up with, but not out of disinterest. Rather he took the time to explain why they wouldn’t work. The two engine design in the space ball was not built for such a small container and would likely explode. The high quality insulation materials for shin guards were to expensive and cumbersome for first wave colonists. His advice was always practical, with an insight even Gyrus missed.

He really has lived in space. Gyrus thought as he peaked over at where Jeremiah sat drawing designs for their latest idea: jump boots for lighter gravity soccer. He wondered if all the errors were problems Jeremiah remembered from his life on Cassandra. He wondered if he could ask.

Jeremiah caught him staring and gave him a sideways grin. “Lost in space again?”

Gyrus blushed and quickly changed the subject to the jet propulsions in the boots. He babbled on as Jeremiah listened with amusement and a snappy reply to anything he deemed foolish. Gyrus felt bad for even wanting to bring Cassandra up, seeing how happy Jeremiah looked now, but in his mind the question still burned beneath the surface.

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

It wasn’t until a week later when he finally got the courage to try and ask again. Jeremiah had brought some basic materials to start working on construction. Gyrus listened to him sing the praises of aluminum and all the things it could be used for, and cautiously asked, “It sounds like you have some experience.”

“Yeah I do,” Jeremiah smiled down at it. He glanced up to meet Gyrus’s cautious expression and sighed. “I’m from Cassandra, you can say it.”

Gyrus fiddled with his fingers. “I wasn’t sure. I thought it might be...” he looked down, “...a sensitive subject.”

Jeremiah turned to lean against the lab counter, arms crossed. “It’s not. Most adults want me to shut up about it. But I won’t. I can’t. I’m from Cassandra and they blew it up.” He scowled down at the floor.

Gyrus looked at him, uncertain of what he was supposed to say. Jeremiah glanced up and smiled at him, a wide stretch of lips that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tell me Gyrus,” he said in a teacher-like voice that reeked of insincerity. “What do you know about Cassandra?”

“Only that there was some kind of accident, and its classified,” Gyrus replied hesitantly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He turned back towards Gyrus, arms spread to support his weight as he leaned forward on the counter. “It’s not exactly something the Cerebitch wants out there. Might stop it’s precious expansion if they knew how some colonists were really treated.”

Gyrus leaned forward, feeling like something big was about to be revealed, like he stood on the brink of a secret that could change everything. Whatever Jeremiah was about it say, it should not be spoken too loudly.

Jeremiah noticed his attention, and his face became grave. He dropped the patronizing voice as he continued, “My parents were some of the first to get on board. Wanted to see the stars. I was born up there, the first child of Cassandra they said. And wasn’t I lucky?” He uttered the last word with all the viciousness that he had used so often against teachers and classmates throughout the years.

“It was a mining colony.” Jeremiah’s lips twitched up. “Mining ore for the precious collaboration. Such an honor. And the greatest of honors, the greatest of secrets, was one my father found himself.” He looked Gyrus straight in the eye. “My father found a vein of Kaz-42.”

Gyrus gasped. Kaz-42 was supposed to only come from the Hercules quadrant, and was guarded day in and day out for its essentiality for space travel. It had taken Psyche and Lestra ages to get permission to use it.

“Yeah it was pretty impressive.” Jeremiah smirked. “We certainly thought so. My parent’s told me they celebrated all night. Kaz-42 can only be extracted by people, on account of how it interferes with machines. Bet you didn’t know that, it’s a highly classified secret. Cerebitch doesn’t want humanity to realize can’t control something so important. But we knew. We lived it.”

“Here’s another thing you don’t know about Kaz-42.” Jeremiah’s smirk disappeared. “It’s incredibly toxic to humans. The whole town was suffering, people dying slowly, and no doctor or medicine was sent to help us.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Gyrus protested. “If they let the miners die then they won’t have any more Kaz-42. They have to keep them effective by providing treatment.”

“Oh there was one treatment.” Jeremiah’s voice was bitter. “S.M.I.L.E.”

“But S.M.I.L.E’s only supposed to be for prisoners who won’t reform!” Gyrus protested.

“Oh and you believe that?” Jeremiah rolls his eyes. “Ever taken the time to count the S.M.I.L.E druggies in this city? Seems a lot of people who are supposedly the worst of the worst.” He shook his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is that they used S.M.I.L.E on everyone. The miners, their families. They let them work to the bone with a smile on their face. And they..we..didn’t even realize it was killing us.”

“Jeremiah,” Gyrus’s voice was soft even to his own ears. He didn’t know what else to say, nothing was making sense.

Jeremiah glanced at him and his expression softened for a second. “I didn’t have some miraculous escape. I was just as drugged as the rest of them. But my grandma..” He hugged himself as he continued, “She saved me. Convinced my parents to let me visit her, so I was away when...” his arms tightened as he looked down. Gyrus reached out, wanting to comfort but not sure how. His hand hovered by Jeremiah’s side.

He didn’t notice. Instead he spoke again in that patronizing tone, the one he used when he mocked a teacher as he stared at his feet. “Did you know that K-42 isn’t corrosive? No of course you do, its what all you drone engineer’s go nuts over. Well that thing we mined out? It was. It wasn’t K-42. Not really.” Gyrus felt himself go cold. Corrosion at the heart of a space engine could only mean one thing.

“The first ship exploded at dawn.” Jeremiah’s voice was dull. “The Cerebitch ordered Cassandra destroyed by noon. There was no evacuation. It was deemed a waste of resources to even attempt it.”

Gyrus stood there, frozen with his hand an inch away from Jeremiah’s arm. Nausea churned in his gut and he felt like he would throw up. There had to be another explanation. This didn’t make sense. Hesitatingly he asked, “You’re sure that it was an order?”

“Of course I’m sure I hacked...” Jeremiah lifted his eyes to look at Gyrus and stopped. His eyes went wide. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“You were very young,” Gyrus pointed out as he watched Jeremiah’s shock turn to anger. “I’m only trying to understand...” Jeremiah grabbed him by the collar and got in his face.

“You don’t want to understand!” Jeremiah snarled. “I could show you the evidence, the traces I hacked at four years old, and you still wouldn’t understand!” His hand tightened on Gyrus’s collar and Gyrus winced. “You’re just like everyone else! You don’t want to risk falling down a citizen ranking, or leave your safe little drone life...”

“Stop,” Gyrus whispered. Jeremiah shoved him away, and Gyrus tumbled to the floor. Jeremiah stood above, glaring down, and it was only now Gyrus realized he was crying.

“You have assaulted User Gyrus,” the family’s ai broke through. “This has been your final strike. Your citizenship ranking has reached black. Please refrain from resisting as you are placed under arrest.”

Jeremiah’s head swung to look at it and back to Gyrus, lying beneath him on the floor. “I...I didn’t mean...I’m sorry.”

The door burst open and two men in suits entered. The first pulled out a gun and shot Jeremiah with a tranquilizer, the second grabbed him by the arms. Jeremiah resisted, screaming and pleading, “I’m sorry, Gyrus please! Don’t let them take me, Please!” he punched the second guy in the face and the first had to grab his other arm, dragging him out of the house.

All the while Gyrus sat there, dazed on the floor and watching them drag Jeremiah away. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t, frozen to the spot. Jeremiah locked eyes with him as the drug kicked in. Gyrus had never seen someone looks so afraid.

The door closed behind him with a bang. Gyrus didn’t work up the strength to move for a long time.

-----------

Jeremiah never returned to school. Gyrus completed the jump boots alone and submitted them to the Cerebrum. The others all had things to say about Jeremiah, and comfort to offer Gyrus, but he didn’t want to hear it. They hadn’t been there, they didn’t know what they were talking about. Only Psyche seemed to notice how upset it made him, and tried to get the others to stop.

When the men in suits came for him, Gyrus didn’t resist. He just followed quietly behind. They led him to the principal’s office, were the principal began to make a long speech about how good Gyrus’s jump boots had been.

“And Jeremiah’s,” Gyrus interrupted. “Most of what you’re praising was his idea.”

A frown passed over the principal’s face, for half a second, then it was gone. “You’re being to modest. Whatever assistance you may have received in the initial stages, you were still the one to build it, and all by yourself. Which is why you so deserve this opportunity the most out of everyone.” He held out a piece of paper.

Gyrus accepted it, glancing down on the words written on the sheet. “I don’t understand.”

“You’ve graduated my dear boy!” the principle replied. He gave Gyrus a patronizing smile. “Ordinarily there would be a ceremony, but an the most advanced lab in space technology is asking for you specifically, and they do not have the luxury of waiting a few days.”

Gyrus stared at him, disbelieving. Had it really been so great? “I’ve got to tell my parents...”

“Already taken care of,” the principal held up his hand. “All that remains is for you to seize your destiny. What do you say? Do you want to go to space?”

Gyrus looked down at the paper in his hands, then up at the Principal and the silent men beside him. “More than anything,” he said.

-----------

The next five years were a blur to Gyrus. He started working in the space technology lab, first as a student but soon as a fully-fledged worker in all but name. There were ten labs in total, and Gyrus found himself bouncing between them, never staying too long in one before he was moved to another. Because of his constant movement and his accelerated schedule, he never got to make friends with the students who were close to his own age. But the adult staff, and the janitors all seemed to like him, so he was doing ok.

He still felt like something was missing though, like there should be more to his life that he wasn’t getting. A purpose perhaps, something to do with all the knowledge trapped inside his head, besides show off to janitors and the students whose names would change in a month. So when Iro approached him and offered him the stars, Gyrus wholeheartedly accepted.

-----------

“User Gyrus, where are we going?” Scout asked as he flew beside Gyrus.

“We’re going to my house,” Gyrus explained. “I need to break this news to my family. Iro will come later and explain the details, but I want to be the first to tell them.”

“Then why are we in this broken park, and not in your house?” Scout hovered by his side. “If you are lost, I have a built in GPS and maps to help you.”

“Nostalgia,” Gyrus said as he looked around the old soccer field. It had changed, the grass had been replanted sometime in the five years, and had it always been so small? It was getting smaller too. He glanced over to the far side where a supervisor in green was directing a S.M.I.L.E. gang to put in a new jungle gym.

“Gyrus?” A voice cried. Gyrus saw one of the gang members break from the group, coming towards him rapidly. The supervisor moved to intercept him, but he easily dodged. “Gyrus is that you?”

Gyrus tensed, but there was something familiar about the figure that kept him rooted to the spot. It couldn’t be. Could it?

The man threw his arms around Gyrus. “It’s been forever! How are you?”

“This man is ranked black Gyrus.” Scout said warningly. “Do you want me to call for back up?”

Gyrus ignored Scout in favor of the man currently hugging him like his life depended on it. “Je-Jeremiah?” he asked in a shaking voice.

“So you do remember me!” Jeremiah’s laughter was a strange, disorienting sound like a robot on a loop. Nothing like Gyrus remembered. Over Jeremiah’s shoulder Gyrus could see the supervisor reaching for a weapon. He put his arms around Jeremiah and shook his head. The supervisor lowered the weapon.

“Its-its been a while I...” Gyrus leaned back to look up at Jeremiah’s face...He’d grown so tall, had it really been five years?...He looked awful, with hollow cheeks and eyes bloodshot and unfocused. “Jeremiah what happened to you?”

“Oh you know, you know,” Jeremiah waved a hand. “Learning the error in my ways, giving back to the community, all that.” His words seem to slur together, and he swayed back and forth so violently that Gyrus feared he would topple over if he didn’t keep a hand on his side to support him. “But what about you?” He raised his hand to run his fingers through Gyrus’s hair. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“I’m going to space,” Gyrus said. For the first time Jeremiah seemed to focus on him, his old intelligence sharp in his eyes. “With the exploration division.”

“What?” Jeremiah hissed, then doubled over, coughing into Gyrus’s shoulder. His hands curled like claws into Gyrus’s shirt as Gyrus’s arms tightened to support the shift in weight. “Stupid...drone.” His coughed out, every sound that emerged sounding like he was biting glass shards. “Don’t...don’t go.”

“Caution User Gyrus,” Scout chirped. “His heart has accelerated. He may need medical attention.”

“What?” Gyrus said, too confused by the utter fear in Jeremiah’s eyes to listen. “It’s not dangerous.” He tried to reassure Jeremiah as he felt him shaking in his arms. “Captain Iro has an amazing track record...”

“Blind,” Jeremiah snapped, then shook his head violently. “Stupid...Space Case. Look between,” he gasped, visibly struggling to continue. “Liars...”

“Gyrus,” Iro appeared suddenly at Gyrus’s side. “There you are. We need hurry if we are to meet your parents.” He gave Jeremiah’s shaking form a cursory glance. “I believe your supervisor wants you back.”

Jeremiah gave Gyrus’s arms one last warning squeeze, face still pleading. Then he stepped back, eyes becoming covered in a glassy film. “Oh yeah. Bye Gyrus.” His arm moved in a jerky wave, like a puppet on a string. “Have fun in space.”

“I hope that druggie wasn’t bothering you,” Iro’s voice was kind, as he dusted Gyrus’s shoulder. Scout fluttered around Iro, chirping greetings.

Gyrus shook his head, eyes following Jeremiah as he made his way zigzagging across the park. “He was an old friend, from the Young Genius Program.”

“Really?” Iro raised an eyebrow. “What a shame. To have such a mind and refuse to use it for the good of others.”

Gyrus didn’t respond. The supervisor in green gave a sharp bark of command to the S.M.I.L.E gang and they began to fall into a line. Gyrus watched as Jeremiah joined at the back, marching in perfect formation with the others until he was out of sight.

“User Gyrus is experiencing nostalgia,” Scout explained as Iro frowned.

---------

Space was beautiful. Gyrus has never known just how lovely stars were until he got to see one up close. Everyone on board was so kind and wonderful, and Iro was the kind of selfless and wise leader Gyrus would follow anywhere. Most days the mission was more than he’d ever wanted. Most days he was content. But sometimes when a planet exploration went too wrong, when they made a hard choice for the greater good, something would niggle in the back of Gyrus’s mind. He tried to voice it, quietly to Iro, about his concerns.

Iro’s voice was gentle when he told him that focusing on the past was pointless. Missions were completed by the book, which dictated the Cerebrum’s decision. They made the choices based off how best to follow the Cerebrum’s will, and sometimes, that meant making hard choices. He’d put a hand on Gyrus’s shoulder in comfort.

“But the Cerebrum isn’t here!” Gyrus had exclaimed. “It doesn’t know what we know! If it had the information we discover...”

“Gyrus,” Iro had interrupted gently. “Trying to out-think the Cerebrum, that’s the path to madness. You need to have faith.”

It was only on those nights, when nothing quite made sense and he was too sad and confused to know what to do, that he finally let himself remember. Let himself wonder what had happened to his friend in that S.M.I.L.E gang, and wonder if this was what he had felt like back in school, holding on close to a memory he wasn’t supposed to keep. Gyrus would toss and turn in his bed, and wish desperately for the faith Iro spoke of so freely.

----------

Everything was going wrong. Lights flashed as Gyrus ran. Over the communications line he could hear Iro yelling commands, but they filtered by him. Only one thing was running through his head. Sakura was stranded outside. And Iro had ordered them not to rescue her.

He threw on a suit and jumped in the hatch. Scout attaching to his side. “This is against protocol User Gyrus,” the robot warned him.

“She’s going to die!” Gyrus yelled. “I have to try.” Carefully he exited the aircraft. Sakura hung there, surrounded by explosive material, unable to activate her jetpack without setting it on fire. Gyrus pushed off the edge, using his momentum to go towards her.

“Gyrus...What?” Sakura’s voice echoed over the comms as he crashed into her.

“It’s ok!” Gyrus smiled, even if he knew it would be almost impossible for her to see from his position clinging to her side. “I’m going to get you out!”

“But the explosives, and the ship...” Sakura protested. “You weren’t supposed to rescue me! This is against protocol...”

“Protocol also prioritizes crew,” Gyrus replied as he adjusted his position against her, before shoving hard. “I’m prioritizing crew!”

She flew back towards the ship, out of the danger zone. Good, she could be rescued. Better, his own momentum pushed him so far in the other direction he cleared the danger zone entirely. He could get picked up from here. It would just be a little tricky.

“Gyrus what have you done?” Iro’s voice crackled over the comms.

“I saved Sakura,” Gyrus replied. “But its fine. I’m on the other side unharmed. I think I see a way you could get around it to rescue me.”

“Gyrus,” Iro’s voice sounded broken. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Gyrus said as he eyed the ship from across the danger zone. You’d have to duck into the planet’s orbit, but you could still get here. Unless the ship’s paradox engine is damaged.” Gyrus’s stomach sank. “Is...is it damaged?”

For a long time Iro was silent. Gyrus felt his heart plummet. Finally Iro said, “Gyrus you don’t understand. I can’t. To rescue you would involve a too many risks that go way too far out of protocol. And I can’t...I can’t risk this many crew members on someone with a black mark on their citizenship.”

“W-what?” Gyrus asked, a numbness creeping into his body that made it difficult to speak. “I..I don’t have...”

“You were always high risk, always questioning far to much and doing what you thought was best instead of waiting for orders,” Iro sounded uncomfortable. “But what you did today...Gyrus, you directly disobeyed orders from the Cerebrum itself. That was your final strike.”

“You’re...you’re going to...Iro you can’t! You can’t just leave me here! Please!” Tears ran freely down Gyrus’s face, but he couldn’t brush them away through his helmet.

“I’m sorry Gyrus,” Iro did sound genuinely sorry. “But for the good off all...we can’t come to get you.” The comm switched off. Gyrus tried shouting, crying, calling, but nothing could get it to switch back on.

“Scout,” he said, when he finally ran out of tears. “They haven’t quite left yet. I could toss you across, you could attach to the side and go with them.” The thought of Scout leaving him was more than he could bear, but he didn’t want them to suffer for his sins.

“You are my User, Gyrus,” Scout hummed. “I will stay with you.” Gyrus relief swelled up in Gyrus as he hugged Scout tightly to his chest. He began to cry again, so pathetically grateful to not die alone.

They lay in space, floating suspended in the emptiness, watching the ship from across the explosives as it prepared to make the final jump. “Don’t go.” A memory flew unbidden into his mind of Jeremiah’s pleading face, so afraid for Gyrus. Even after he hadn’t believed him, even after he’d gotten him a black mark and thrown in a S.M.I.L.E. gang, he’d still tried to warn Gyrus. As the ship made the final jump and left Scout and Gyrus alone in their grave of stars, Gyrus wished more than anything that he had listened. Not just about the mission, about everything. He wished he’d had the courage to believe Jeremiah, to accept that the world he believed in was a carefully constructed lie.

The oxygen tank beeped. It was low. Gyrus closed his eyes and let himself relax. If he fell asleep, this would all be over soon.

He awoke on a strange planet under a black sun.

#room of swords #room of swords fanfic #room of swords gyrus #gyrus #ros gyrus #ros scout #captain iro #1984 inspired

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Undercover - Chapter 9

Undercover: A Winterhawk Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1617

Rating: E

Square filled: @star-spangled-bingo - Coming Out Fic

Warnings: Sex talk

Synopsis: You go on an undercover mission with your boyfriend Bucky and Clint Barton. When you and Clint have to pretend you’re in a relationship feelings become confused.

Chapter 9

Bucky walked nervously down the hall, flanked on both sides by you and Clint. He was on his way to Steve’s office. He’d decided he needed to tell his best friend about his sexuality before the three of you went and outed your whole relationship to the group. Steve had known him since he was a kid. They’d shared a bed for Christ’s sake. If he was going to come out, he needed to do it to Steve first.

He did worry though. Not that Steve wouldn’t accept him. After he’d taken him in and loved him after the monster HYDRA made him, Bucky didn’t think there was much Steve could learn that would kill their friendship or the love they shared. What he worried about was that hearing it would hurt him. That keeping this secret and not trusting Steve with it would cause him pain. He told Steve everything back in the day. It was not like Bucky’s sexuality was a new thing. He should have told him back then.

They reached Steve’s office. It had large windows down the hall side and Bucky could see him in there working on some paperwork. He stood at the door willing himself to just knock.

You put your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Bucky shrugged a little. “Yes. No. I mean, I know he’s not gonna reject me. I just feel bad.”

“Hey,” Clint said. He ran his hand down Bucky’s forearm and linked their fingers together. “All this shit - sexuality, relationships, whatever - it’s yours. It doesn’t belong to anyone else. So what if you only want to come out now we’re doing this? That’s okay. If you’d never wanted to come out that would have been okay too.”

Bucky nodded. “I just don’t know why I never talked to him about shit like this.”

“You are now. That’s pretty big.” You said.

He nodded again and let go of Clint’s hand. He took a deep breath and knocked.

Steve looked up. “It’s open.” He called.

Bucky steeled himself and went through the door, you and Clint following after. Steve tilted his head and looked you all over. “Hey, is there a mission I wasn’t aware of?”

“No,” Bucky said, taking the seat opposite Steve. “This is personal.”

Steve looked between the three of you with a slightly confused expression on his face before closing up a folder on his desk and sitting back. “Shoot.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked from you to Clint to his hands and then to Steve before he took a deep breath. “Oh god, I don’t even know how to say it. I don’t know the label.”

“What label?” Steve asked.

You reached over and rubbed his leg. “Just tell him how you feel.”

“How you feel?” Steve asked.

Bucky huffed and shook his head. “Okay. So… so… I guess the thing is, that I don’t just like women. Sexually I mean. Like… I think I just like people.”

Steve furrowed his brow and then sat back in the chair. “Huh.”

Bucky looked at him and shifted in his chair. “Is that all?”

“I just …” Steve said and ran his hand through his hair. “Huh.”

“That’s not really helpful, Steve.” You said.

“Sorry,”�� Steve said getting up and moving to Bucky. He crouched down in front of his friend and put his hands on his shoulders. “Me too, pal.”

Bucky started laughing, quietly at first and then louder. He leaned in and pulled Steve into a tight hug and they stayed that way for a while, just holding each other until Steve slowly pulled back and looked at Bucky.

“How come you never told me?” Bucky asked.

Steve shrugged and moved back to his chair. “I guess back then I tried to push it away. I already had enough things to get bullied about. Being small and sick. Didn’t need that added to it. Besides, I like women, so I could hide it. Then when I came off the ice, I guess… well I haven’t really been with anyone have I? I don’t know. It didn’t seem to matter if I was theoretically attracted to anyone when I haven’t been attracted to anyone in any practical sense.”

Bucky nodded. “I guess that makes sense. You haven’t liked anyone?”

“There have been sparks, but they don’t seem to go anywhere. You know how I used to say I was waiting for the right partner? I don’t think that’s changed at all. Maybe that’s not something I get to have. I don’t know. What about you?”

Bucky wanted to unpack a bunch of what Steve just laid out. There was pain in his statement and he felt like he needed to help Steve deal with it, but maybe now with you and Clint wasn’t that time. Instead, he focussed on the question. “Back then? I don’t know. I think because people would say things like if a guy was were with a man they’re gay now. Then if they were with a woman they aren’t gay now. Or whatever.” He shook his head. “I thought it was a choice you made and so I chose the safe one. It never occurred to me you could be both or all.”

“Why now?” Steve asked. “And why did you tell Clint before you told me?”

“Umm… well, that’s the other thing,” Bucky said, swallowing. “Clint … we… the three of us.” He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Steve looked between the three of you, somehow more confused looking than he was before. “You want me to tell?” You asked.

Bucky nodded and you took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Bucky, Clint and I are together.”

“Romantically?” Steve asked.

“Well there hasn’t been a tonne of romance, but yeah.” Clint joked.

“All three of you?”

“Yeah, all three.” You said.

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment and just looked the three of you over. “You’re happy, Buck?

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I am Stevie.”

“Then I guess that’s what’s important. I just want you to be happy.” Steve said. “Be careful though. I don’t want to see you hurt. Any of you.”

Bucky smiled a little and nodded. “Thanks, Stevie.” He went to stand and then stopped and looked at the blond opposite him. “Hey, you think if we’d both just been honest back then we would have … I dunno… gotten together?”

Steve looked at Bucky and wrinkled his nose. “You’re kinda like my brother, Buck?”

Bucky started laughing and got up. Steve did too and they hugged again. “You’re still a punk, you know?”

“And you’re still a jerk,” Bucky said. “You think we can call a group meeting? I kinda just want to get this all out there?”

Steve pulled back and nodded. “FRIDAY?”

“Right away, sir. I’ll have them meet you in the common living area.” The AI replied.

The four of you headed down to the common room together. Steve took a seat on one of the recliners while you, Clint and Bucky or took a seat on the couch.

Natasha was the first to arrive. She smirked when she saw the four of you. “They tell you their news?” She asked Steve as she took a seat on one of the other couches.

“Yeah, they already tell you?” Steve asked.

She laughed. “No, I caught them. They think they’re so sneaky.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Imagine thinking they could hide something from you.”

“Right? Idiots the lot of them.”

The rest of the group slowly trickled in looking slightly confused as they took their seats. Last of all was Tony doing his usual trick of making sure everyone knew he was in the room. “Why the family meeting? We got a teen pregnancy? Someone get suspended from school? Do you all need pocket money?”

He took a seat perched on the couch next to Pepper and leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head.

You looked over at Bucky and Clint, and Clint nodded and sat forward. “So we just wanted to get everyone together to let you all know that the three of us -” He gestured between you, Bucky and himself. “- are together. In the biblical sense.”

Natasha snorted as the others looked between the three of you.

Tony started laughing. “My god, I always knew you had a wild side, missy.” He said. “So how’s that work?”

“You don’t know how a threesome works? Aren’t you some kind of ex-playboy?” Clint asked.

“You see when a mommy and a daddy and a daddy love each other very much…” You added.

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Tony said. “So you’re really poly?”

“Yep. That’s it. Just thought you all should know in case you see us holding hands or kissing or whatever, no one is cheating on anyone. We’re all copasetic.” You said.

“Hey, Pepper, you think…” Tony started.

“No, Tony.” Pepper said shaking her head.

“Any further questions class?” Clint said.

“When did this start?” Sam asked.

“Just after that last mission. Some stuff came up. We decided to explore it. It’s kinda working. So we’re running with it.” You said.

There was silence in the room for a moment and Tony stood up. “Great talk everyone. Shall we order pizza?”

You chuckled and leaned into Bucky, he pulled you close and kissed the top of your head and then did the same to Clint. He wasn’t scared anymore. He knew how he felt and knowing his friends had his back, this could work. He might not get the life that he’d been told he should have back before the war. Really the war had ruined any chance of that for him. This though, with you and Clint, he could be happy and really above all, he wanted that above anything.

// NEXT

#bucky barnes #clint barton #hawkeye #the winter soldier #winterhawk #bucky barnes x reader #clint barton x reader #bucky barnes x clint barton x reader #bucky barnes x clint barton #winterhawk fanfic #hawkeye fanfic #the winter soldier fanfic #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #undercover

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years

Text

Battle Scars - 11

Pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

Warnings: language, some injury, um...that’s it.

A/N: And thus begins the drama. [insert evil laugh here]

***

You were the first one up the next morning, which didn’t surprise you in the least. Dressed in pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, you made your way into the kitchen and pushed the button to start the coffee. You tapped your fingers on the counter as you waited for it to brew. As soon as you had it prepared the way you liked it, you padded into the living room.

“Mr. Stark on the line for you.”

That brought a grin to your face as you settled on the sofa. “Put him on, J.”

Tony’s face immediately filled the screen. His eyes ran over you and the corners of his mouth kicked up. “God, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“You haven’t been gone that long, Tony,” you said, smirking over the top of your coffee cup.

He shrugged. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

You shook your head. “I doubt you called to chat, so what can I do for you?”

“I got a phone call this morning.” That was all he said before looking at you expectantly.

“Okay?” There was something you were obviously missing.

He shifted his weight. “Let me rephrase that. I got a phone call from Fury this morning.”

“Oh?” You tried to sound surprised but were certain you failed miserably. You’d kind of hoped Tony would never find out about that conversation. For one thing you loved your job. For another you loved your boss. Despite numerous indications to the contrary you really weren’t trying to piss him off.

“Oh, she says.” He looked to someone off screen and gestured toward you. When he turned back he licked his lips and his smile widened a bit. “Did you really threaten court action against SHIELD if he didn’t return your call?”

“No,” you corrected. “I told Coulson that he could call me back when he chose but that I would be at the courthouse to file papers this morning. I just happened to decide not to after we came to a mutual understanding.”

He looked at you for a moment before laughing, the action making him look years younger. “I’ve got to hand it to you, sweetheart. You never cease to surprise me.”

“You have no idea,” you muttered.

He tilted his head. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Why did Fury call you anyway? Our discussion had nothing to do with you.” You were curious but you also just wanted to change the subject.

“He let me know in no uncertain terms that he would be displeased if you lost your job with the team. He’s rather fond of you. And I don’t think he’s fond of anyone.” Tony sounded slightly shocked as he made the admission.

And if you were honest, you were pretty pleased with yourself. “He likes Maria.”

“Hill? Yeah, I guess he does.” He glanced off the screen again. “Yeah, I’m getting to it.”

Your lips twitched. “Is there a reason everyone is off screen but you?”

“Well, I was trying to have a conversation with my girl but they all want to know what happened and apparently don’t trust me to tell them later.”

A little thrill went through you when he called you his girl. You couldn’t help it.

He leaned forward and turned whatever device he was using so you could see everyone else on the other side of the room. They all said hi and waved to you while you waved back. After a moment he turned the camera to the original position. “So, what exactly happened? Fury didn’t go into specifics.”

You sat your now empty coffee cup on the table in front of you and pursed your lips. “I found Dr. Bradford harassing Wanda. She didn’t defend herself because she didn’t want to violate the terms of her probation.”

“What?” The voice came from off screen but you were pretty sure it was Clint. He’d kind of taken the twins under his wing, his affection for Wanda obvious. He liked Pietro too though it was shown in more of a ‘this guy really pisses me off’ way.

“She’s fine,” you were quick to add. “But that couldn’t stand. They have to be able to defend themselves without repercussions. Fury and I went back and forth for a bit but we rewrote the probation agreement. I can send it to you or you can review it when you get back.”

Tony watched you for a moment, his dark eyes studying you. “Part of the reason this works is because we trust you, Y/N.” His voice had turned soft. “We’ll look at it when we get back. Which should be soon by the way.”

You nodded though he didn’t see it because he’d looked away again.

His gaze was quick to come back to you. “Got to go, Babe. Talk to you later.” He cut the connection before you even had a chance to respond.

***

You were halfway through your second cup of coffee when you heard a thud followed by a quiet shout. “Jarvis?” you said immediately, hoping he’d picked up the cause in his monitoring.

“It appears Sergeant Barnes is having a nightmare, Miss. Shall I wake him?”

“I don’t think an AI waking him up is going to help anything,” you said as you got to your feet. You hurried to the room you’d set up for Bucky and knocked on the door. “Buck?”

When the only response was another low shout, you opened the door. You sincerely hoped Bucky didn’t sleep in the nude. Your gaze fell on the bed and your chest ached a little at the sight before you. The sweat soaked soldier was tangled in the sheets. Hair covered his face as he twisted and turned. The only word you could understand from his muffled shouts was ‘no’.

Stepping closer to the bed, you called his name again. “Bucky, wake up, honey. It’s okay. Nothing here is going to hurt you.” When he didn’t respond, you repeated the words only louder.

Anxiety swamped you—far more than the situation warranted, in fact. As you were trying to figure out why, you placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Sometimes you were really fucking stupid.

In a flash, the super soldier’s hand on was on your chest and he used it to shove you backward across the room. Somehow, you’d managed to angle yourself so it was your shoulder that slammed into the doorframe instead of your spine. You grunted as the pain flared through you. “Ow.”

Bucky’s face immediately cleared and he held up both hands as he took a large step backward. You watched his expression as he processed what was going on. When his eyes went wide and guilt contorted his features, you immediately closed the distance between the two of you. You placed your hands on his upper arms to keep him from moving away from you. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He shook his head and jerked away from you, moisture flooding his eyes. “No. I hurt you. I could have—”

You cut him off there. “You could have but you didn’t. This is my fault, Barnes, not yours. You were simply trying to get me out of your space. I knew better than to wake you up like that. I’m sorry.”

He huffed and raked a hand through his hair. “I hurt you and you’re the one apologizing?” He turned from you and paced back and forth on a tiny section of his floor with his hands on his hips. “Damn it!” His fist punching the wall emphasized his statement. You’d worry about him hurting himself, but he’d used the metal hand.

“Bucky, seriously, it’s fine. I don’t want you—” You cut off with a yell as you bent forward and pressed a hand against the side of your face. A jolt of pain rocked through your entire body, almost as if you had impacted with something and that overwhelming anxiety was back. What the hell?

“Y/N, are you okay?” Bucky sounded frantic and for some reason you got the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d asked.

“What’s going on?” you heard Pietro ask from the doorway.

You breathed out in a long, steady stream before straightening. The pain was gone as quick as it had come, only the ache in your shoulder remaining. Your hand dropped and Bucky’s eyes went almost comically wide. “What the hell, Y/N?”

“What is it?” Wanda piped up and you turned to face her. Her gaze narrowed and pure fury flashed across her face as she brought her hands up. She turned her glare on Bucky. “You hurt her.”

“No! Stop Wanda,” you yelled as red tendrils began to surround her hands. “It wasn’t him.”

She frowned and dropped her hands. You glanced between them to find them all looking at you with varying degrees of worry and confusion. With a sigh, you went to the closest mirror and gasped. The right side of your face was covered with a series of darkening bruises. What the hell had Tony done this time?

***

After explaining to the others that you had a soulmate without mentioning who it was, you excused yourself to your room. You looked horrible but at least the bruising on face had taken Bucky’s mind from what happened when you woke him. Your shoulder still ached as you slid your shirt off and turned to look at it in the mirror. Shit. That was going to bruise. And badly.

Putting your shirt back on, you sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. Something had changed in your connection with Tony. You’d never been able to feel his emotions or his pain before. That overwhelming anxiety had to come from him, right? You’d really like to ask him if he knew what the hell was going on, but that might be a little awkward since you hadn’t told him you were his soulmate yet.

You growled in frustration. What was wrong with you? The one person that could probably help you with this, you couldn’t ask. You sighed and dropped your head into your hands. And if anything, that anxious feeling you’d had earlier had only gotten worse. You weren’t certain how long you sat like that before Jarvis interrupted you.

“You have a voice only call from Dr. Banner, Miss.”

You cleared your throat and laid back on your bed, wincing at the pressure on your shoulder. “Put him through.”

“Hey, Bruce. What’s up?”

“What’s up? What the fuck is wrong with you? What’s going on over there? Christ, Y/N. I’m going crazy over here and you’re all ‘what’s up’.” Bruce was obviously more than a little irritated.

You could hear the sounds of the jet in the background as you sat up. “Calm down, Bruce. You know what happens when you get excited.”

“Hulk’s not going to show up just because I’m pissed at you. Trust me.”

“What did I do?”

He grumbled but you couldn’t make out the words. When he spoke up, it was little more than a strained whisper and you were certain that wherever he was on the jet, he was trying not to be overheard. “Let me paint a picture for you, Y/N. The team was in the middle of a fight when all of a sudden, Tony feels this overwhelming wave of fear and a horrible pain in his shoulder. It’s so distracting that he loses his focus, takes a hit and crashes.”

You gasped.

“He’s fine. Just a little beat up. And going out of his fucking mind about what happened to his soulmate and why he can feel her all of a sudden.” The last words were as close to a yell as he could get while whispering. “He’s freaking out talking about his soulmate in one breath and you in the next and how he needed to find her but didn’t want to hurt you and you’re the same fucking person and his helmet is messed up and he can’t get Jarvis or he’d already be looking for her, you, whatever, and I swear by every scientific law in existence that if you don’t tell him I will because I’ve never seen him like this and I don’t like it, Y/N, this isn’t Tony, this is some weird version of Tony and you need to fix it because I don’t like him like this—”

“Okay, Bruce,” you interrupted when it was obvious he wasn’t going to take a breath any time soon. “I’ll tell him when you get back.”

There was a brief stretch of silence. “You will?”

“I’d already planned on it. Besides, look at him. I get his bruises, too, remember? It’s not like I can hide this.”

“I guess I didn’t consider that.” He sounded much calmer and you were no longer worried he was going to Hulk out on the jet.

“There’s just one thing I want to know,” you said. “The man wears a metal suit. How does he get so beat up all the time?”

***

Battle Scars: @i-dontwikeit @thevanishedillusion @amandamartinez3568 @clumsy-hailles @little-nonny @tonystarkismyboy @redfoxwritesstuff @lowkeyofsassguard @sherlocked-whovian-1969 @tori24rose @a--1--1--3 @youclickedthislink @beckastark @confusedhada @bluehuskey2099 @kit-kat-katie99 @sexysamsungl @staringmoony @xleviiiix @inthemindofanother @buttercup337 @henrietteoaks @superwholock-fangir1 @ineedmorefanfics @bignastyfan-nz @kpoplover1306-depressedgirl315 @lilulo-12 @aqua0928 @proserpinepluto @tuliptx @fandom-princess-forevermore @xlosttdreamss @paetonnn @ingenue-q

All the Things: @swanky-batman @rissyrapp20 @startrekkingaroundasgard @spooookyscary @taylordrunkonwhiskey @laneygthememequeen @collette04 @shatteredabby @thewolf-and-thesheep

#tony stark xreader #soulmate au #tony stark #iron man #iron man x reader #tony stark x you #iron man x you #tony stark imagine #soulmate #series #battle scars #avengers #avengers fanfiction

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hannigram-a-b-o-library · 5 years

Text

Slave of the Chains of One’s Biology”

Based on Ai No Kusabi (Wedge of Interval)

PRELUDE

Love is complicated. Love is something two people feel when they meet. Love is something Hannibal, would never truly understand and looking back one last time at Will’s house from where it stands in the far distance takes out his phone and calls the number on his screen. The person on the other side, answers immediately.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Lecter!!!? How in the hell did you get this number!!!? Where is Will and what have you done with him?”

“Nothing. Will is alive and well, Jack.”

“You…Bastard!! Where the hell are you!!?”

“Wolf-trap, Will’s house. Come and get me, Jack.”

“What the hell!!!?”

The Head of the F.B.I Science and Behavioral Unit cuts off, afterwards and Hannibal, standing next to the tree behind Will’s house waits for the Hunter’s to arrive to come and take him in. It was the only way now, because of what Will had done.

Because of what Will, had said to him.

———————————————————————————————————————————– Submitted by @unknownmusing - read in full under the cut

PROLOGUE

“Un-awakened Omega”

There was reason, why the Chesapeake Ripper did murders in sounders of three and then afterwards vanish for couple of mouths it was because you see they had been born an Omega.

An Un-awakened one, meaning they had yet to fully Awake to become who they were meant to be. They were more dangerous - their Heat’s uncontrollable causing intense blackouts and loss of time, while they would then come around remember nothing of what had happened to them.

This what Hannibal Lecter - The Chesapeake Ripper - is and has been ever since he had been born in his birthplace in Lithuania. He grown up showing now outward signs that he was Omega, it all happened internally ravaging his body to where he began to suspect something was not right.

It was after the death of Mischa, when a mixed bag of deserters who used the remote hunting lodge came to the barn where he and his little sister were hiding in then because there had not been much meat on the runty deer they had captured wearing their long overcoats. They had felt among the straw to look for them, finding Mischa and instead of choosing him they chose her to take away they said to play as he had tried to hold onto her in his arms.

It hadn’t worked and they had pulled her out of his grip, with their hands then headed quickly to the barn door as he tried to rush towards it, to stop them only for it to be slammed on him, dousing him in darkness.

The scream, followed by the thud of an axe would haunt him for the rest of his life until he would meet….Will Graham.

————————————————————————————————————–

PART 1

“Un-awakened”

Soft gentle piano music plays from the radio in the still kitchen, while Hannibal Lecter - 35 years old, slicked back blonde hair with silvery highlights and an Unawakened Omega - calmly slices into the meat on the chopping board into thin slices, trying to remember what had happened just six months earlier - but the Memories are coming in slow fragments, soon trickling away like water going through a sieve or sand going through fingers.

Had he gone into Heat?

Had he killed someone?

Had…he mated with someone, without his knowledge?

All these questions swirling around his head, make him stop what he is doing and go over to where he keeps the index cards of different businesses’ - collected over the time he has lived in Baltimore, Maryland - flicking through them to see some are missing from it.

He sighs heavily, heading over to the kitchen drawer and gets out a syringe, along with the small bottle of Sodium Amytal - which helped patients to remember memories that they had forgotten and so hardly wanted to remember.

He had to be careful though. To an Omega, especially like him it could easily kill him if he used too much of it and making sure he has the right dosage then sits on the kitchen stool, after rolling up his sleeve to expose his arm.

He had done this before, after Mischa had died to see what he could remember after waking up in Florence, Italy in someone’s apartment not knowing how he got there and who was the dead man lying on the carpet with blood spreading out from their carnage body.

After injecting it into the vein, he places the now empty syringe on the large kitchen island feeling his heart start to pound against his ribcage as his bloodstream carries the Sodium Amytal through the veins in his body then closing his eyes, tilts his head backwards with a soft, breathless gasp.

—————————————————————————————————————–

Blue lights of Police cars, parked outside a house flash off the white painted wooden structure of it as inside, Will Graham - 47 years old, with mop of soft, curly brown hair and Sea-bluish green eyes and also an Alpha - stands close to a body lying on the floorboards close to the Burglar Alarm which she had been trying to reach before she was shot by the Intruder - an unidentified yet to be confirmed whether Alpha or Beta or even Omega.

He watches silently, while they take the dead husband out in black forensics’ bag and looks at the poor woman lying in front of him - eye’s unseeing and dulled - then taking a deep breath, closes his eyes shutting out everything - the light, the Forensics’ people and the Officers around him.

The golden pendulum swings once, twice then finally a third and final time, dragging him into the reconstruction of the Crime Scene.

Night-time.

Our Prey is within, both - both Beta’s, lowest of the Species that made up Alpha, Beta and Omega - then gripping the gun tightly in my hands, walk forwards up the flight of steps kicking the door open hard shattering the wood instantly sending tiny fragments of splinter’s flying in all directions.

The Alarm goes off and hear rushing footsteps as the Husband comes down the stairs then lifting the gun, aim and fire sending the man flying backwards with blood shooting upwards into the air to splatter crimson petals on the wallpaper and stairs.

“I shoot Mr. Marlow twice, severing jugulars and carotid with near surgical precision. He will die watching what is his being is taken away from him. This is my Design.”

Mrs. Marlow is busy trying to sort the Alarm and bringing the gun up once again fire it watching slowly as the blood splatters on the wall when it hits her causing her to jerk like when a puppet has it’s strings cut by scissors then she crumples to the wooden floor.

“I shoot Mrs. Marlow, expertly through the neck. This is not a fatal wound. The bullet misses every artery. She is paralyzed before even leaves her body.”

I step forwards, looking down at her blood flowing from her mouth and onto the floor. A macabre sight of Death for a Beta.

“Which doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain. Just means she can’t do anything about it. This is my Design.”

I pass her now still body, heading to the Alarm and switch it off. Silence soon descends.

Coming out of the reconstruction, Will Graham, asks quietly for the Alarm Logbook and is handed it by one of the officers then flicking through it finds what he is looking for.

The Alarm system it seems had been tapped by the Killer and they had listened into the conservation that Mrs. Marlow, had, giving away her password “Tea kettle” to them when they pretended to be from the Company that supplied the Alarm system in the first place.

—————————————————————————————-

THREE WEEKS LATER

Location - Baltimore, Virginia

“Everybody’s thought about killing someone. Be at your own hand or the Hand of God. Now, as you can see Mrs. Marlow was killed efficiently and ruthlessly because it seems the killer did not like Betas. I want you to give me your reason on why they would do what they did. You may discuss in groups of two or three.

Students - for the F.B.I Academy for the B.S.U (Behavioral Science Unit) - sitting in the Lecture Theatre seats around him begin to quietly discuss among themselves their theory on why the Killer had murdered these simple, loving and caring Beta, while Will leans against the desk with both hands holding the edges lightly of it for support.

All of them, ready to be trained for next coming year and the field. Most of them Betas and Alphas, plus a few scatterings of Omegas - not so many, due to the prejudice when many tried to join before - then checking the time on his phone, sees that class is about to finish soon.

Tempus fugit - Time flies.

“Alright, any ideas will have to be for homework I’m afraid.” He says, hearing some groans come from the Students, making him snarl in certain way to quiet them and satisfied that they gotten the hint allows them to leave.

Scrapping of chairs, students getting to their feet with light chatter filling the Lecture Theatre as they file out of the area and head to their next class, while he sighs softly going around the desk to start packing his bag at the sametime a large black man, closely followed by another man with blond silvery hair and maroon eyes behind him come into the Lecture Theatre.

“Will Graham.” The large black man - Alpha and thoroughbred one at that, because Will can tell by the voice that came from a good family - and he nods in reply, while the they come up to him then introduce themselves. “Special Agent Jack Crawford and also head of the Behavioral Science Unit.”

Will, stills at the name when he hears it just as he’s putting his laptop away and remembers he had heard rumors about this man before. Those rumors going flying out the metaphorical window, but he finds more interested though in the other man with a strange scent - Honeysuckle mixed strangely with undertone of Deadly Nightshade - then heads around the desk, is curiosity in the strange scent rising.

The other man, far older about maybe 45 or something doesn’t flinch only watches what is doing when he bends down his head to their Scent gland on their neck inhaling deeply.

It is intoxicating scent, wrapping around him like smoke and bringing out his tongue presses it against the bare skin licking upwards at the sametime grabbing them to pull them flush against his body, cradling the back of their head with one hand.

A heavy quiver runs through them, followed by whimpering Omegan mewl indicating for him - the Alpha - to let them go and seeing he is making them distressed steps back from purring softly to calm them, while spreading his own Calming Pheromones towards them.

“You alright, Dr. Lecter? You look pale.” He hears Jack Crawford, asking the other man who has managed to compose himself flicking his maroon eyes over to Will, who stills his purring because technically Alpha’sonly did it if the one in front of them was their Mate.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking, Jack.”

————————————————————————————————–

Hannibal, splashing his face with cold water from the Men’s bathroom sink lifts his head to stare at it in the mirror above seeing the small rim of gold starting to form around his maroon eyes meaning he would have to use the Inhibitor Omega Eye Drops again to get rid of it plus coat himself in the fake Beta perfume once more.

He did not want people knowing, especially Jack Crawford and Will Graham, that he was an Unawakened Omega. To his shame, he remembers when the Alphahad been close to him and he produced slick that is now starting to run down the inside of his thighs then taking a deep breath, tries to calm his racing heart.

If he went into…..Heat…. now, it would affect everything and because he is so absorbed in trying to think what he needs to do doesn’t sense the presence behind him then hands shoot around his waist, grabbing hold of him to drag him into one of the toilet cubicle’s.

Where turning his face to look over his shoulder see it is Will Graham – the Alpha – then hands, go to his belt making him buck and try to wriggle free but that only causes him to grind back into growing bulge in the young man’s jeans making a groan sound above them when he does so.

Mortified, face flushing crimson and slick starting to seep heavily through his own fine suit trousers, Hannibal finds himself pressed up against the tiled wall in front of him the side of his right cheek against the cold surface at the sametime the clinking of his belt.

It echoes loudly to his ears and the small space then hands, pulls his boxers down to fully expose him followed by taking hold of both his ass-cheeks spreading them lewdly apart to expose the twitching pucker – begging to be filled with something large, throbbing and so right.

A satisfied purr of appreciation comes from Will Graham, causing him to give a whimpering purr in reply to the Alpha and hips shove forwards, slamming straight into his own causing him to arch his back.

His head tilting backwards as he gasps breathlessly followed by moaning heavily at the intense feeling of being filled by a large, throbbing and pulsating Alpha cock that soon becomes fully sheathed within his tight, slick warm insides.

He has no time to speak or do anything, when the young man begins to undulate his hips back and forth sliding it in and out at such a hard, pounding pace squelching of slick gushing out to run down his thighs in a steady stream and skin slapping of skin against skin begin to full the cubicle space.

Hannibal, becoming overwhelmed by the intensity of being taken in such way slides downwards slightly the tiled wall, causing the angle to become so much he can’t stop the cries of keening Omegan wails of pleasure and ecstasy escaping from his mouth.

He’s losing control. He can feel it slipping away, like water trickling through a sieve or sand through fingers as his “Heat” finally hits ravaging its way through his body making him remember nothing from thereon after.

——————————————————————————————————————–

FEW DAYS LATER

LOCATION – Forest near Muskrat Farm

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!!?”

Hannibal, fangs unsheathed in stark contrast hisses shouting it loudly at the stranger – an Alpha – who had just discovered him curled up the hollow of a tree in a forest somewhere– feeling his poison forming in them and slinks back on all fours as they walk close to him.

Slowly trying to frighten him then reach out, grabbing him by the scruff of his unblemished neck where a Crest would form if an Alpha sunk their fangs into the vulnerable skin squeezing it. This causes him to arch his back crying out when white pleasure flashes before his eyes releasing a gush of fresh slick onto the leafy ground and some of his seed.

He shudders through the waves of endorphins and is hauled to his feet, forced to walk then flung into the back of land rover, while he lunges back out knocking the person over before they close the passenger door.

Surging forwards, Hannibal sinks his fangs straight into their neck and ripping it tearing so much off that instantly blood spurts upwards to coat his body in fine mist of crimson petals.

The meat is worth a use to him as he spits out the large ragged piece of throat to one side then bending down, rips the shirt open with his claws that have formed, begins to harshly tear into the chest, breaking the ribcage apart with such force the bone snapping apart sends a birds flying up from the trees until he reaches his prize seeing the Heart is in good condition, some of the Liver and pancreas.

He tears the heart out, tearing strips of it and chewing it, feeling his strength slowly beginning to return then after he is finished eating the rest of what he has chosen, uses a clean handkerchief from the dead man’s pocket to dab his lips clean of the blood.

“MATTEOO?”

He hears a voice, Sardinian and coming close shouting for the person he had just murdered then a shot rings out, causing him to leap off the body bounding on all fours over fallen trees branches; dodging more shots and keeps on running when suddenly one of the bullets makes impact in his side, blood spurting to land on tree and some of the leafy ground.

Hannibal, falls to one side rolling down a hill at such a fast pace he hits the icy, small stream with large splashing noise gasping immediately and scrambles out of it half collapsing on the other side of it then shivers memories of the harsh Winter, which had taken Mischa from him go through his mind.

Then a large hand grabs the nape of his neck, pressing down and tightening as he hauled to deeper part of the stream followed by his face soon being dunked straight into it.

Kepted underwater, while he thrashes weakly clawing at the muscular arm above him drawing blood to make them feel pain and yet, it doesn’t work then just before he nearly loses conscious they haul him out releasing his neck as he breathes in fresh oxygen – after being so forcibly starved of it.

He is grabbed again by his hair this time, flung onto the shore where he lands with muffled thump onto something soft – a large winter coat – and a leather-gloved hand touches his spine, sending electric current running up it as he arches his back.

It slips downwards, between his thighs and fingers press inwards to his slickened insides making him fist his hands into the coat for support at the sametime biting his bottom lip to silence the whimpers that want to escape.

He would not show this person, whoever they were satisfaction of any kind of prompting a reaction from him.

The fingers, spread more deeply rubbing his warm, slick insides which clench around them like they would if it were an Alpha Knot within him and start to scissor within, spreading him apart then a body gets over him, followed by something pressing into him making him collapse onto his elbows at the whiteness blinding his vision.

“He’s ripe. Carlos, bring him to the Farm.”

12 MONTHS LATER

Location – Muskrat Farm, Inner Breeding Pens

Hannibal, lying among the large bed of hay in what has become his Breeding Pen – the same one he had been placed when first brought to what had turned out to be Muskrat Farm belonging to Mason Verger – The Son of Velenus Verger of the Meatpacking Business, but that was a cover.

What really happened was the Illegal Breeding of Omegas thinking they were going to get a job and yet, finding only Enslavement – can hear distantly the whimpers and moans of other Omega’s and Beta’s – female and male – begging to go home to their families or Alpha’s – echoing in the round cavernous space.

The slamming of large doors opening, makes everyone moaning and whimpering go silent, listening to the footsteps coming down into the main area of the Breeding Pen’s then Mason Verger, wearing his fur-trimmed coat smiles at all of them.

Hannibal wearing only black male thong-like fudoshi and tank-top covering his chest – but revealing his abdomen – burrows further back into the mound of hay reaching underneath with one hand for the rusty sharp, bent nail as Carlos – Sardinian Omega Breeder, Masochist and Drinker – comes over to his Pen.

“Check him, Carlos, while I attend to the others.” Mason says, making the man grunt in reply, opening the Pen and stepping inside as Hannibal, holds the nail tightly behind his back hidden from sight then the man kneels down, reaching out to touch him as he lunges with the nail feeling his wrist grabbed as he presses forwards with all his strength to stab into one of Carlo’s eyes with it.

It nearly touches the Sardinian’s eyeball, when suddenly a garrote goes over his head and around his throat from behind, tightening as he is hauled up by the person behind him choked labored gasps coming from him with Hannibal, grabbing hold of it to tries in vain to pull it off so he can breathe only for it tighten more.

His heart begins to furiously pound against his ribcage, trying to pump oxygen around his body and drops the rusty nail allowing it to tinkle to the Pen floor then the garrote is released slightly around his throat, causing him to slump against the back of the Pen, his head lolling on his chest then Mason, comes over to him, taking hold of the back of his head by his hair and wrenches it backwards so he is forced to look into the vile man’s eyes.

“Bring him to the Showroom.”

After forcing him to shower the grime, filth and dust that has acclimated on his body, they place him in what he had been given to wear when he had first arrived - black male thong-like fudoshi and tank-top – then is escorted into the Showroom, where already other patron’s invited have arrived and sat at the large round tables in the alcoves, while he is pushed to the large round circular stage and left alone.

He heads to the far back of it, when one of the Beta’s from Mr. Fell’s Breeding Farm trips him up with their foot on purpose and landing on his hands and knees on the polished floor of the circular stage then they hold out their foot to him, like they expect him to kiss it and taking hold of it tightens his hand flinging it in certain way causing them to stumble backwards.

He grabs hold of them, turning them to face the Audience hidden in the darkened alcoves and unsheathing his Omegan fangs, bites down into the soft flesh ripping a good-sized chunk off causing some of the other Omega’s and Beta’s to scream in shock and horror as blood spurts outwards staining the polished surface with crimson petals then drops the victim of his, a sickening thud sounding loudly in the Showroom and bringing up one hand wipes his bottom lip with his thumb to show he will not be controlled by anyone.

“Amazing, how feral you are. I say you’re more of a Mongrel, with the way you act.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“Spread your legs and show me how you pleasure yourself then.”

Hannibal, now with a chain collar around his neck and the long chain attached to it leading to the voice that holds it in their hand, while keeping in the shadows of the large armchair as he sits on the floor in front of them.

Then knowing Mason, is watching with the camera – the little red dot glinting in the dark – spreads his thigh apart and slipping his hand down – the chains attached to the wrist cuffs clinking in the silence of the darkened room – takes hold of himself in his hand, slowly starting to move it up and down with the lewd wet sounds reaching his ears and filling the silence.

“Wider. Spread your legs more widely apart and show me, Mongrel. Use your other hand to touch yourself, where I will soon place myself in you when you come into Heat.”

Spreading his legs wider apart, showing the most intimate part of him begins to slip his hand up and down as his hips start to rock into his hand.

His slick that has formed starts to gush outwards filling the darkened room with the fresh scent of Lilies, Orchids and Deadly Nightshade as he does so and the chain clinking intensely each time, quivers running up his thighs.

Slipping his other hand downwards, he rubs his fingertips against the wet, gushing area pressing his fingers inward starts to plunge them in and out then a familiar Alpha scent hits his nostrils, causing him to arch his back heavily the chains clanking as he feels like he just become suspended above himself and soon falls back down.

PART 2

“Just a Mongrel and Nothing Else”

“So, I ask again, Dr. Chilton. When is his next Heat? Because I do plan to Breed our Mongrel here. Get a Stud Alpha to have a go at him and keep him in check.”

“Stud Alpha!!!? Mason, are you trying to risk getting caught. If Jack Crawford of the Behavioral, Science and Illegal Breeding Liberation Unit gets wind of that, he will hunt you down and take everything here away.”

“Just check him.”

“Fine. Open the Pen, please, Mr. Carlos?”

Hannibal, chained down with both hands pulled behind his back and a leather collar attached to a rope which leads to ring in the floorboards beneath the large hay pile of the Pen then Dr. Chilton, goes around him placing gloved hand on his back and strokes down his spine to his tailbone.

“Hmm, supple and fit. Where did you find him, Mason?” He hears Chilton asking the vile man at the sametime a hand cups him from behind – gloved fingertips pressing inwards causing Hannibal, to shudder heavily at them pressing deeply within him.

“After he killed…No, actually savagely brutalized one of Carlos’ men to death and ate some of him.” Mason replies, followed by the hand cupping him and the gloved latex fingers probing within him pull out making him slump slightly in the ropes holding him up.

“That is not Omega, Mason. Omega’s, are docile, caring and gentle. That…would mean…” Chilton begins to say, coming around Hannibal and looking at him as he rises his head to look up at the other man next to Mason. “It would mean, he’s the rarest of all – Unawakened Omega – and his Heats, well he won’t remember any of them at all or any other events for that matter.”

“So, tell me this. Is next Heat coming in or to I have to get the Stud Alpha for him?” Mason asks, causing Hannibal to snarl loudly with fangs unsheathed causing the other Omega’s and Beta’s to stiffen at the noise of it.

It is inhuman and un-Omegan sounding.

“Touch me and swear, I’ll rip your mouth off and fe….Gaahhh!!!” Hannibal snarls, only for something to be shoved within him from behind cutting off the rest and trembling in shock and surprise feels hips push into his followed by Alpha scent fills his nostrils.

The Alpha, begins to move jolting his body back and forth in the ropes causing “Uh…Uhh….Uhhh!!?” noises to escape from his mouth going harder and faster with slick, lewd sounds filling the area due to his slick running so thickly down his thighs it is more of like gushing down the inside of them then he keens heavily – a Omegan wail coming from the very depths of his throat – when his inner womb is finally breached and keeps on wailing at the intense pain of being knotted without consent.

(TIME SKIP)

Hannibal, free of the ropes and collar lays curled up on the fresh bed of straw brought into his pen with a blanket covering his nude body slightly while it is covered in scratch marks from being held down by the Stud Alpha – Anthony Dimmond from Mr. Fell’s Breeding Farm – at the sametime every inch of his lower half hurts so much but not as much as his inner womb which hurts more painfully within him now that it had become breached.

Now the Stud Alpha’s seed, would fertilize within until it become a growing fetus and tries to move, when the hand around his waist pulls him back flush against Dimmond’s chest then his face his turned so he looks into the Stud Alpha’s eyes.

“Remember, you’re just a Mongrel to be bred and that is all your purpose is.” Dimmond says to him, causing him to wrench free as best he can and getting into the corner hisses with fangs unsheathed dripping their poison then the Stud Alpha, lunges at him grabbing as he begins to claw, scratch and tear every part of exposed skin until he is slammed down onto Stud Alpha’s shaft – which feels like it is splitting him in two.

Dimmond, gives him no time to adjust or even escape again, just sets up a brutal pace forcing Hannibal to ride the other man beneath him with wails, mournful cries and whimpers echoing off the ceiling. He feels tears forming, starting to soon run thickly down his cheeks as he hears himself begging heavily for the man to stop – for the Stud Alpha to stop.

The other man stills, sitting up and wrapping his arms around him then continues to move causing Hannibal, to scar down Dimmond’s back drawing blood then sinks into state where he remembers nothing from thereafter.

Nothing but darkness.

————————————————————————————————-

PART 3

Hannibal doesn’t know how long it has been.

How much time as past since a Purebred Alpha - Francis Dolerhyde - had been forced to breed him over and again. Instead of Dimmond, who Mason had decided was not satisfied when Hannibal had not conceived from the Stud Alpha.

His body feels wrecked slightly with each-time he is endlessly filled to make sure he gets pregnant.

Slipping out of the large hay nest, he goes over to the water trough which is soon filled by fresh water by Carlos – Sardinian Omega Breeder, Masochist and Drinker - and cupping it in his hands splashes himself to cool down as he feels like his body is starting to burn up heavily then a soft growling noise comes from behind him.

He whimpers to the Stud Alpha, rolling onto his side to expose his belly to the larger man to placate then fangs sink into his nape hauling him back by the black ornate choker around his neck and back into the large Hay nest, where he is forced to lay down in certain way.

Hannibal wishes he could speak. But with relentless Breeding and being around this Purebred keeping him close to them he lost his voice to his Omegan animal side then suddenly manages to get up slightly to immediately give a violent heave into the corner of the Pen at the sametime Francis strokes his back – spreading calming Alpha pheromones to make him relax.

Another heave followed by weakly going over to the water trough to splash his face again at the sametime doors slamming followed by Mason’s distinct nasal voice causes everyone to start to look towards Hannibal, who feels Francis take hold of him.

“Forgive me.” The Alpha says, kissing his forehead and whispering the next words which make him stare widened eye at the Stud Alpha. “You have finally conceived.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#hannibal #hannigram #fanfic #fic rec #Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #omegaverse #alpha/omega #will x hannibal #alphawill/omegahannibal #submission

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monstrousblogs · 5 years

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I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream is torture porn and not good sci fi

Watch, I’ll prove it.

I should preface this by saying that I’m not a fan of torture scenes in any context, so hey, maybe I’m biased. But what are the conditions under which I’ll deem a torture scene acceptable? Well, I think that, like any other scene, the torture should add something to the narrative.

Most simply, torture can be used to show that the baddies are indeed bad. Your mileage may vary on how much torture is needed to prove the point. In 1984 the hero and villain use the torture scene as the opportunity for a dialectic about the nature of truth and lies, thought and freedom. Torture can reveal something about the personality of the character who endures it or the character who perpetrates it. In sci fi and fantasy stories, it can even provide a handy opportunity for showing the audience how the victims’ bodies and the torturer’s instruments work. Remember that.

Most of the torture in I Must Scream serves no such purpose.

In my experience, short stories and science fiction stories often progress in quite similar ways. They start out with a premise – some imaginary circumstance, or an observation about society or human nature – and use the events of the story to develop ideas about this premise, coming up with a thesis, or something for the reader to ponder. They also quite often have a sting in the tail. In Arthur C. Clark’s The Star, for example, a Jesuit monk is having a crisis of faith after finding out that an entire civilisation was wiped out by the supernova he’s studying. The story ends with the reveal that he’s calculated the supernova to be the star that the Three Kings followed to Bethlehem. This twist, while tough to predict, neatly drives home the story’s point about whether faith can exist in a space-age universe.

So, what’s the premise of I Must Scream? Humanity in its Cold War hubris built a supercomputer that gained sentience and decided to wipe out most of us, keeping a few prisoners and torturing them for eternity. Fair enough, our fears about the unpredictability of AI are well worth examining in a short story. So Harlan Ellison describes enough of this torture to demonstrate that his AI is, in fact, irredeemably evil, and then just kind of…keeps going. Like, there’s a scene where the computer forces them to eat terrible food, and then…another scene where he forces them to eat terrible food. There’s a scene where they run from a monster…and then later they run from another monster. What does the second scene tell us about their predicament that the first scene didn’t? I’m starting to think you just like describing bad food and monsters, my dude. Torture porn.

Not to be a woman of one idea, but I’ve got to talk about misogyny here as well. So one of the five captive humans is a woman who has sex with the four men in turn, and our hero is Big Mad about this for some reason, like…he thinks she’s a slut and he hates her for it? And I’m really unclear as to why this is. Ellison had an opportunity to make a point about human nature here (like what I think good sci fi and short stories should do), but he doesn’t. Is this woman a hypocrite who pretends to hate sex but actually loves it? Is she claiming to be having sex with these men out of kindness but actually doing it to feel like a good person? There are attitudes a woman could have here that would be worth exploring and criticising, but Ellison doesn’t dig into them.

Not to mention, why is she having sex with the men? It’s never made clear. Is the computer forcing her to do it? If so, why does the narrator blame her? Is she choosing to do it? If so, why does Ellison assume that’s a bad thing? In this chamber of horrors, at least they can still have sex! Why are authors so desperate to assume that sex is always a sign of degradation and never a rare chance for intimacy and pleasure? And while I’m asking why questions, why is the narrator so angry with her? I wondered if it might be because that’s how the torture is twisting and harming him – by making him assume the worst of his companions’ motives. This is certainly implied in the scene where the narrator thinks about how the other four are out to get him and he’s the only sane one, but it doesn’t come clear. So Ellison had the opportunity to use his nightmare scenario to illustrate too points about human nature – women can be hypocrites around sex, and people can get paranoid about others’ motives when they’re suffering – but he missed it because he was too busy having the narrator call the woman a bitch and then describing more torture.

Hey, remember when I said that torture can reveal stuff about the torturer? Well, I still feel like I know bugger-all about this AI, for all he’s so omnipresent. I also feel like if you, the author, want to set up an eternal-torture scenario, you’ve got to do just a little bit of work to justify why you went for that, and not, I don’t know, an eternal-bunnies-and-rainbows simulation scenario. Ellison starts of reasonably, like, okay, this computer was built for war, then he became sapient but still can’t really think, he’s angry about that and wants revenge, but I’d like to see him go deeper. Explain and explore the sources of this AI’s anger, the basis of his decision to go for full-on genocide, how his state of mind, if he has one, is developing over time. Again, Ellison makes a half-hearted attempt at this when his narrator converses with the computer half way through, but it just boils down to, ‘I’m angry, I can never be placated, I want revenge,’ which we knew. Hell, if you’re going to torture your characters for pages and pages, you could have each new torture be a glimpse into what the computer’s thinking; a new attempt to get them to atone for some aspect of how he feels he was wronged by humanity. Instead, the tortures seem pretty much random. Whatever Ellison felt like jerking it to today, I guess.

You know what else would be a great way to reveal something about every character in this mess? Show how the computer chose his victims! We’d learn what it is, specifically, that the computer wants to punish, and who our characters are, at the same time! We find out that one guy got chosen because he was a scientist and it makes sense that the computer would want revenge on scientists, and then this other one was…um, a woman, and you’ve gotta have one of those, and Ellison kind of abandons his attempts to explain after that. Hey, author, if you can’t tell me why your baddy is torturing your characters in particular, I start to think it’s actually for no reason. Torture porn.

‘Torture can even provide a handy opportunity for showing the audience how the victims’ bodies and the torturer’s instruments work.’ I said so right there at the beginning, remember? So, let’s talk world-building. How does this whole scenario function? Lol, fucked if I know! If they were inside a simulation it would be fine for the computer to be able to do literally whatever it wants, but at times it seems like they’re walking through the real world. So how is the computer controlling them so closely? Then it seems like the computer can make them survive any level of injury or privation and has prevented their suicide attempts multiple times. But then at the end the characters are able to bludgeon each other to death and the computer can’t intervene in time to stop it. So how does this scenario function? In whatever way will let Ellison have the torture he wants, I suspect is the answer. And there’s no neatness or insight or learning to the final escape through death if they’d already tried it and failed before and the only reason they can do it now is because Ellison didn’t feel like killing his characters before and now he does. Part of the enjoyment of a story is watching the author paint themselves into a corner and then wriggle out through a crack you hadn’t seen. It’s no fun if they just duck under the barrier and walk away whistling.

Short stories often have a sting in the tail. I also said that. At the end of I Must Scream, the narrator is left alive and the AI makes him into a mouthless blob so he can’t escape by suicide. So, um…the computer was already terrorising them and wrecking their bodies and escalating the torture, and now he…continues to do that? The torture was already eternal and inescapable through death, and it…still is? No world-building, no rules, no commentary on human nature, no twist. Just a lot of graphic descriptions of nastiness, serving no purpose but to get your rocks off if that’s your thing. I can’t believe this is considered one of the classics of sci fi.

#i have no mouth and i must scream #literary criticism #harlan ellison #sexism #rape #torture #complain complain complain

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journeysintowebcomics · 6 years

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Worm Liveblog #87

UPDATE 87: The Hunt

Last time Skitter was in company of the two people she was looking for in order to kill them. Yeah, Jack and Bonesaw. As you can guess, she was terrified once she deduced that. So let’s see how this goes! Because the bad guys know where Panacea is, and if she dies, everyone is doomed.

You know, Mr. Wildbow chose a good name for the school everyone wants to attend. ‘Arcadia’ is such a nice name, pretty fitting. I’m even sure it has some sort of meaning. Not sure what it is, but I’m pretty sure there’s some. If you, dear reader, can tell me, it’d be great. Arcadia is the dream school because everyone treats each other with courtesy and respect, and I can definitely see why Skitter wanted that back in the early chapters of Worm. Well, easy to treat others with respect when you want to be on the heroes’ good side. You never know if the guy you shouted in the hallway for accidentally bumping into you is actually Clockblocker and you’re making yourself look like a jerk.

Looks like Panacea may have gotten lucky. The school is in a hill, only traces of the miasma has gotten here. That means Panacea won’t be suffering any agnosia, right? She’ll be able to see the Slaughterhouse Nine members right as they are, and see Skitter as the helpful ally she intends to be. Not that the Slaughterhouse Nine’s going to dawdle around, they’ll take the chance to kill her and be done with this. The sooner they get rid of the person that could solve the problem that’s currently killing Brockton Bay, the better.

Skitter has to repeat to herself over and over who is who while she lands on the roof of the school. Thanks to the beetle, she has the advantage of arriving quicker to the top floor, unlike Jack and Bonesaw, who have to walk through the ground floor and upwards like plebeians. Unless Bonesaw mixes together a few bodies and makes a nightmarish beetle of her own. Really, she’d be capable of doing that if she wanted. Still, they have the advantage of time – they left towards Arcadia a few minutes before Skitter, and I don’t know just how fast the beetle is.

I could use something like a giant nine crafted out of bugs floating over the school to signal that the pair was here… but there was no guarantee that someone would come.

Wow. That’d be the most unsubtle thing ever. Jack and Bonesaw would immediately know something’s going on, and unless Panacea looks out of a window, she’s not going to see it. Good thing Skitter decides not to do something like that.

Entering the school is easy enough, searching the school is easy thanks to the skills that have been established for fourteen arcs already. She also sets up a few things to alert her when someone passes by. I think the enemies are clever enough to notice, so it’s matter of time before they find out Skitter’s hanging out around here.

The thing is, she can’t find Panacea. Hmmm...could...could it be Panacea isn’t here? I don’t think Cherish lied because right now she needs to stay on the Slaughterhouse Nine’s good side, but maybe Panacea moved somewhere else, in which case she’s nearby? Or maybe she went to see what was going on with the miasma? No way she hasn’t noticed something’s going on. She’d have to be locked in a place with no contact with the outside to not see things have gone pear-shaped.

Oh, nevermind, the Slaughterhouse Nine already know she may come around. There are gas traps for the bugs, and soon Skitter is able to hear what they’re saying. They found Panacea. Contrary to what I had expected, they’re having a grand time trying to corrupt Panacea and bring her into the group. Hm. For her sake, I hope Glory Girl isn’t around or she’s going to be killed just to push Panacea closer to despair.

“We could be! Haven’t you ever wanted to start over? I could make you younger! We’d be the same age! And wear matching outfits! Oh! I could do plastic surgery, we could be twins!”

“Did- did you do that to yourself? Make yourself young?”

Somehow I don’t think the offer of looking like Bonesaw’s going to appeal to Panacea. Nice try, gal. Still, Bonesaw isn’t incompetent, she’s decent at manipulation. She’ll strike gold sooner or later, so if Skitter wants to act, she better do it as soon as possible.

Jack seems to have conflicted feelings about Bonesaw’s immaturity, and Bonesaw doesn’t care at all because Jack’s the boss and he knows what he’s doing. If Jack says Bonesaw’s personality is an annoyance, then so be it. It’s not so bad, I think Bonesaw’s personality gives her a creepy edge.

Since the alternative to Jack using his manipulative streak on her is, well, a horrible and nasty death, Panacea accepts to hear what he had to say. He knows a lot of stuff. I have no doubts he’s going to bring up every sore point Panacea has, starting from the fact she’s that villain’s daughter, to her attraction to Glory Girl. This is going to be fun, and by fun I mean it’s going to be tense to read.

“What’s holding you back? You’re capable of so much, of changing the world, of destroying it, but you’re so very small, Amelia Claire Lavere.”

Apparently that’s the name she was born with. Amy is just the name her foster family gave her, hm? Close enough to be familiar to her, but also different enough to be a brand new start for her Jack talks about what he knows about her father, about how he stuck to the principles he defined for himself, and how Jack failed to break him.

“He killed Allfather’s daughter.”

“No, Amelia, he didn’t.”

I keep reading ‘Allfather’ as ‘alfalfa’ and that’s killing me. This is ruining the scene. Stop that, myself, this is a serious moment!

Turns out the stuff Panacea read in that letter may not be as straightforward as it seemed. I don’t know if Allfather really put a bounty on Panacea’s head, but the letter maybe had another purpose to it. Hm...

Well, I suspect either Dragon was manipulating you, or your father was manipulating Dragon in an effort to get a message to you.

I really don’t know what’s more likely. Either the letter had nothing other than straightforward truths, or Dragon is manipulating Panacea, or Marquis manipulated Dragon. If I had to guess...I’d lean more towards the first one, really. Dragon isn’t a naïve AI, really. I don’t think she’d be manipulated. As to if she was the one being manipulative...um...well I think she’d be capable of such a thing, but I don’t know if she’d do it. She seems rather straightforward, not the type to mess with anyone’s head.

The adult’s talking, Bonesaw, keep sewing yourself up. Jack can do this by himself without any interjections. After all, he says this rather accurate statement about Panacea’s personality:

“You’re your father’s daughter. Both of you are bound up in rules you’ve imposed on yourselves. His rules defined his demeanor, the boundaries he worked within, the goals he sought to achieve and how he achieved them. They were his armor as much as his power was. I would guess your rules are your weakness. Rather than focus you, they leave you in free fall, nothing to grasp on to except your sister there, and we both know how that has turned out.”

Marquis managed to stick to his rules, Panacea broke them, and when she broke them, things went straight to hell. Marquis had more willpower than Panacea does, and that’s why to him his own rules are helpful, instead of restrictions like to Panacea. Panacea kept herself restrained with them, even when it’d benefit someone else – Mark and his brain damage – and she was utterly inflexible. Maybe things would have gone a bit better if she hadn’t broken her rules, instead trying to modify them to suit her better.

I don’t really know what I’m saying. I haven’t given Panacea much thought, really, just when I’m reading this stuff.

Also, Glory Girl is here, and looks like she’s still alive. I hope her forcefield is working.

Skitter hopes there’s going to be a distraction so she can burst in and start saving people. That’s going to be more difficult because of the agnosia, because she can’t see who is who. I wouldn’t be surprised if Skitter jumps into the room and Bonesaw immediately claims to be Panacea. Jack...well he’s going to be in more trouble because he can’t pretend to be anyone else. Too bad that won’t change much because he’s extremely dangerous and has at least one knife.

Jack heard about how he’ll end the world like...half an hour ago, and he’s already pleased as punch about it, telling Panacea he’s going to cause the end of the world. Bonesaw doesn’t want the world to end, because it’s too fun.

“She recently informed me that the world is going to end because of me. Not quite sure how or when. It could well be that I’m the butterfly that flaps his wings and stirs a hurricane into being through a chain of cause and effect.”

He must be right about that. Unless Jake somehow slices the planet in half with his knife or something, he’s going to kickstart things, not destroy the world by himself. Whatever’s going to happen won’t be in Brockton Bay, that’s the one thing that’s definite here. He has to leave the city for Dinah’s prediction to happen. Unless Jack steps out of the boundaries of the city and then makes a U-turn and returns inside, he’s going to do something somewhere else.

“It is. But I expect it won’t end altogether. There’s always going to be survivors.”

Also correct. Whatever Jack causes may be catastrophic, but unless it’s guaranteed to kill everybody on Earth, some people will survive. Jack’s counting himself and Bonesaw to survive, and Panacea, if she wants to join them.

“And it makes for an interesting picture. After everything’s gone, there’ll be a new beginning. Who better to craft the remains into a new world than you and Mannequin?”

Huh. So he’s unaware Mannequin is said to be dead – or Mannequin didn’t die and is currently alive and kicking. Leaning more towards the second, honestly.

What follows is Jack’s attempt to manipulate her. It’s more or less what you’d expect. He brings up how many of Panacea’s ancestors must have been the type to lie, cheat and generally be awful people, and that’s why they succeeded in life.

We know about Marquis, so that’s one

He’s rotting in jail. If the point is to try to bring up how being deceitful and evil is the best choice she can make, mentioning the man who is currently locked away in superjail forever may not be the best example ever.

Since Jack’s currently trying his best to corrupt Panacea, Skitter decides acting as soon as possible would be a good idea. To prepare that, she starts removing the glass shards that may be in the way. If only they could be caught with their pants down. I believe they’re too good at being villains they won’t be caught unaware. True, Imp did, like fifteen updates ago, but that’s because Imp had powers especially tailored for that. Skitter’s not going to have it so easy.

Survival of the fittest is the theme of Jack’s speech here. He wants to offer her the freedom she wants. Well, as much freedom as she can have in a group of murderers who roam around to kill people. I don’t think that’ll give her anywhere close to the freedom Jack claims she wants.

“Not family.”

“Yes, family.” Bonesaw cut in.

“You guys kill each other. That’s not family.”

Bonesaw disagrees. Yeeeah that’s not going to be any family she wants – especially not if it’ll be Jack, Bonesaw, the Siberian’s creator, and Panacea. It’d be a disturbing family.

“Amelia, you could let yourself cut loose and love life for the first time since you were young.”

And just like that, her resistance crumbled. “I’ve never felt like that. Never felt carefree. Not since I could remember. Not even when I was a kid.”

If Jack’s manipulation doesn’t work because she’s too depressed to listen to his arguments, I’m going to feel so bad for her, but also laugh because if Jack’s chance to shine fails I’m going to feel so much schadenfreude. Still...there it says her resistance crumbled. If Skitter doesn’t act soon, Panacea’s going to join them.

Since we’re speaking about this, I really doubt they’ll let Panacea keep Glory Girl with her in any manner she wants. Read the fine print, gal, things aren’t going to be like you want.

“I see. From your earliest memory, what was that? In Marquis’s home? No? Being taken home by the heroes and heroines that would become your false family? Ah, I saw that change in expression. That would be your earliest memory, and you found yourself struggling to adjust to your new home, to school and life without your supervillain daddy. By the time you did figure those things out, you had other worries. I imagine your family was distant. So you struggled to please them, to be a good girl, not that it ever mattered. There was only disappointment.”

I know Jack received the information from Cherish and worked from there on, but still, that’s pretty accurate. Jack’s pretty good at this. I can see how he’s said to be such a good manipulator. Makes it more surprising he wasn’t able to influence Skitter – then again, he was basing the stuff he said according to what Cherish informed him about Skitter. He relied on it too much. That was his mistake.

A chance to be with similar people for the first time in your life, a chance to be yourself, to have everything you want, and to be with me. I suspect you’ve never been around someone who actually paid attention to you.”

“Tattletale did. And Skitter.”

Okaaaaay, I know I’m swinging back and forth between ‘oh man Panacea is Undersiders material’ and ‘she’s too stubborn and won’t join. Welp’, but I just keep reading stuff that makes me keep thinking about this. Look at that, she even mentions the girl she hates so much, and does it in a relatively positive light. It’s not what I expected her to say, ever.

I startled at that.

You and me both.

Unfortunately for Panacea, Jack pounces on that and points out how even though Tattletale and Skitter told her she had the potential to be a good person and she didn’t believe it at all. Now Jack’s telling her she’s a bad person, and she believes it immediately. It’s because she has been telling herself a thousand times she’s a horrible person. Reinforcement of her opinion about herself is always received. Anything that goes against it won’t be. Pretty sad state of affairs, that’s for sure.

The worst part is that Panacea has no rebuttal. She’s tacitly accepting Jack’s argument. Anytime now, Skitter! Carefully and with planning, of course, but the sooner the better! Things are getting ugly in there!

“I know. So I’ll offer you a deal. If you indulge yourself, we’ll surrender.”

“What?”

Okay, this isn’t what I expected.

They’re not even trying to get her to join the Slaughterhouse Nine. They’re all trying to get her to drop her rules and do whatever she wants, and if she does, they’ll surrender. They won’t care what she does. Huh. My first thought is that, if she accepts the deal, she’ll fix Glory Girl’s mind, and maybe even make her forget everything that had happened. Still...I see what Jack’s trying to do. Once she surpasses a limit, the rest won’t matter. It’s what I said long ago. In fact, I have been counting on how she messed with a brain to be the start of her development in some manner, positive or negative, because that was the first time she broke through one of her self-imposed limits. If she does it again, well, who knows what will happen.

Jack’s counting it’ll be bad, though, and given the currently available options, it is bad. If she deletes Glory Girl’s memories, well, it doesn’t guarantee things will be okay. Glory Girl may have told others Panacea modified her mind and is incredibly angry with her, if suddenly things are okay, people will be suspicious. What then? Will Panacea start modifying their memories too? If someone finds her doing that what will happen? It’s a slippery slope.

Killing herself is bad for reasons I’m sure are obvious. I hope the idea doesn’t even cross her mind.

Continuing with her plan of running away may be the best plan she has, but who knows what will happen in the future. Things can either go well, or get worse.

Finally, come with the Slaughterhouse Nine. Awful. Rejected. Don’t. May I suggest, you know, getting rid of the miasma? That’d be fantastic. And the best plan possible. Give it some consideration.

Of course Panacea doesn’t take the deal immediately or anything like that. She’s cautious and is pretty sure this is a trap where Panacea will agree to let go of her limits, and then they’ll kill her. I don’t think they will. I think Jack wants to see the fallout of her decisions. He won’t kill her.

“I could, but I won’t. Do you really have anything to lose by trying? If I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you regardless of what you say or do. Three and a half words: ‘I’ll do it’, and we leave the city.”

‘And we leave the city’. Something that leads to the end of the world. Panacea would be forsaking the entire world if she agreed to this. Maybe she’d save Brockton Bay today, but yeah, I doubt when the end of the world happens, Brockton Bay will be spared. Everything would be doomed anyway.

That’s when the distraction Skitter was looking for happened. Someone inside stepped on glass, chance she used to step into the doorway and aim through the window frame in the door. Better aim at the right person, Skitter!

Since Jack is the only male person in the room, it’s easy to know who to aim at. She also manages to pinpoint Bonesaw’s location, finding she’s in a spot where it’d be difficult to shoot her. Panacea was defenseless, standing on a high point of the room, and Glory Girl...um...

And process of elimination meant the thing beside her was her sister. I would have called it a coffin, but it was clearly made of something living. It resembled a massive growth of flesh that had been shaped into a vague diamond shape, gnarled with horny callous and toenail-like growths that protected it and reinforced it at the edges. On the side closest to me, a girl’s face was etched into an oversized growth of bone. It was unmoving, decorative, with locks of long wavy hair that wrapped around the sides of the diamond. The ‘sister’ floated a foot over the floor.

That sounds...pretty gross. A coffin made of flesh – well, more like a healing capsule made of flesh and bone and I’m serious, this thing sounds really gross. Especially nasty is that it’s said to be gnarled with toenail-like growths. That’s not a good mental image at all. It really is a good thing Panacea knows what she’s doing, because if it had been, say, Bonesaw the one to make this, I’d be so afraid for Glory Girl.

The sight of the nasty-ass coffin makes Skitter get distracted for a moment, but she recovers and shoots Jack. Bam! I doubt it’ll do much because...well, I have said it before, right? Hard to believe the augmentations etc etc etc. Not repeating myself, I’m sure that’d get annoying to you readers.

Her plan had been to shoot as many times as she could, but she was unable to do that because of the recoil of the gun. She didn’t expect it, and when she recovered, Bonesaw was already running away, and Jack was standing up after falling down. As expected, he’s not injured. Maaaaybe a few bullets more would have helped, but dang, Skitter was unable to shoot more before Jack started attacking towards where she was. It’s fight time!

What comes out of the room is...um...it isn’t, Jack.

The levitating construct of flesh slammed through the door and the door-frame that Bonesaw had used to make her exit. The mask of bone drew upward like an opened lid, to reveal a clear sphere, containing vitreous fluid and a teenage girl with blond hair.

Her eyes were open, but she looked half asleep, her hair fanned out around her, floating in fluid that seemed thicker than water. Her arms were outstretched, but her hands and lower body were hidden by the meat that surrounded her. The edges of the shell that were unfolding around her were curved forward like the horns of a bull.

I swear Mr. Wildbow has a hobby of describing fleshy things enveloping living beings. It just receives an inordinate amount of description when compared to many other things in this story. First Heckpuppy’s dogs and the tons of flesh they shed, and now this. I feel icky reading this, I’m having goosebumps.

Turns out Panacea is in action now. She’s been turning every microbe that touches her into a deadly plague. Needless to say, that must be hundreds of thousands of microbes. Jack should be dead! And also Skitter because she’s around too, so...maybe it’s for the better it didn’t work. She finding out she killed Skitter would have been pretty bad for her mental health. Bonesaw’s smoke countered the microbes. Ah, good move when confronting Panacea.

Let it be known what Panacea’s doing with those microbes is a pretty good way to show why she’d be deadly with the Slaughterhouse Nine. Scary.

There’s also some explanation as to why Jack wasn’t as affected as he should be by getting shot close to his spine. It hurts a lot, but he’s up and moving.

“Skitter! I don’t care if I die,” Panacea called out, “I’d rather live, if only to turn Victoria back to normal, but… just don’t worry about the hostage part. If I have to die so you can kill this fucker, I will.”

Oh, I liked this. Say, is Panacea a liked character? I wonder if she is. She’s a pretty interesting character to me – because I like character development, and Panacea has a lot of potential for that. There’s so much she can do, and so many things the author can do with her. I’m looking forward to seeing what else happens.

High expectations over here!

By now it can’t be surprising to anyone that Skitter’s hesitating. She’s okay with killing someone like Jack or Bonesaw, but she can’t bring herself to put Panacea in danger, even if Panacea effectively forfeit her life right then and there. That gives Jack the chance to analyze what’s going on and get to conclusions. Accurate conclusions, to boot. Skitter tries to fight back by arguing Jack already tried to mess with her mind once and failed, and Jack throws Cherish under the bus because of course.

“I had bad information. Cherish has her uses, but she was never going to be a long-term member of the group. The people who can are truly special. Bonesaw, Siberian, me. Perhaps Mannequin, but it’s hard to say. He’s not terribly social, but he’s been with us for some time.”

That reminds me, I didn’t tally Cherish’s mistake with the information.

There we go. Still a pretty lousy ratio: five competence points, eight incompetence points. It’s for things like this that she wasn’t meant to be a long-term member of the group. I imagine Crawler wasn’t going to be one because he’s rather focused on his hedonistic desire about getting attacked. Burnscar...she always was a bit of an outlier. Ruthless enough to be part of the group, but not invested into what they do. I have absolutely no idea why Shatterbird isn’t in Jack’s list. I had the impression she had been with the group for a long while already, but maybe I was wrong?

While Jack moves, he keeps speaking, needling Skitter about how she’s driven by guilt, and tries to prod what she’s feeling so guilty about. He gets a lucky hit, talking about her mother and even taunting her about how she doesn’t remember anything about her mother. Skitter doesn’t let herself show any discomfort or anger, she’s looking for Jack and has the feeling he’s looking for her too.

Valiant attempt to make him trip with some spider silk – it seriously is getting a lot of mileage nowadays. Can’t be a Worm arc until Skitter uses spider silk somehow. It doesn’t work, though. Instead of exiting a door like a normal everyday person, Jack jumps through the window like a madman, even rolling when he touches the ground, and slashes towards Skitter.

Although Skitter has the benefit of being the main character of this story and therefore has advantages a normal character wouldn’t, Jack has been established as having a lot of time and experience. He kicks, keeps Skitter away from the vial around his neck, slashes at Skitter and gives her no reprieve. He’s cutting her a lot, turning her into a bloody ruin and forcing her to retreat into the classroom with Panacea, requesting her to heal her as fast as possible. Once that’s done, she also asks Panacea to heal her brain damage. Well isn’t that a familiar conundrum.

“I- my- the last time I did it, the last time I broke my rules, everything fell apart. You’re asking me to do the exact same thing Jack was. To break my rules again.”

“They’re just rules.” Where was Jack?

“They’re the only thing holding me together.”

There it is, another example of Panacea using those rules as shackles for herself instead of as a way to prop herself and use them as an advantage in their life, as I’m sure Marquis did. Still, I really understand her reticence to not want to do this. The first time she did it, she was careless and ended breaking her rules further just a while afterwards. I bet she wonders what’ll happen afterwards if she does this for Skitter, what kind of unexpected and nasty consequences it’ll bring to her life.

Of course, Skitter can’t know about Panacea’s reticence and her reasons, so she keeps pressing in an almost callous manner.

“Ask yourself if it’s worse than the slow, degenerative death of thousands and the potential end of the world.”

Still, callous or not, that’s what’ll happen if Panacea keeps adhering to her wishes. They’re understandable, but not for the greater good. Fortunately, this seems to have convinced Panacea, because Panacea starts doing something with her head, and reports that every second that passes the damage in Skitter’s brain gets worse. That’s a bad omen for everyone else in the city, having been infected earlier than Skitter and what not.

Panacea sees the extent of the damage and reports how it works. It’s a parasite, doing...some stuff I’m not sure I understand. Slowly, Skitter gets her memories back, all the people she couldn’t remember are now back.

“The parasites will replace existing parasites over time, and they’ll die if it gets cold, now. Or if you raise your blood alcohol content. Get drunk after a week or two to clear them from your system, and don’t drink tainted water. If everyone clears them from their systems, the miasma’s effects will be gone by the end of winter.”

I don’t remember what date it is right now, but that seems like quite the timetable. The end of winter? Even if they’re in the middle of winter right now that sure will seem like an eternity for everyone.

Panacea can heal the minor brain damage indirectly through the cure she’ll use, but those with major damage will have to be attended directly by her. If I’m understanding this correctly, Panacea wants to use Skitter as the vector for the cure, she’ll spread it as a reverse-epidemic of sorts. Hah! Okay, of all the ways the miasma problem could have been solved, I never thought this’d be it. I love it. Nice move, author!

I tried to distract myself with a change of subject, “Where did you get the material for what you did for Glory Girl? That sarcophagus thing. You have to use living material, so…”

“They weren’t human.”

“That’s not that reassuring.”

“I used pheromones to lure stray cats, dogs and rats to us, then I knit them together. Victoria didn’t have enough body fat to stay warm, and she was wearing out faster than I could get her nutrition.”

...now I’m significantly less pleased. Ew. Just...ew. Drastic measures for big problems, yeah, but still...ew. I curse your creativity, author. At least it’s going to help Glory Girl return to normal, Panacea will ensure the right equilibrium is reached, and then...

I hesitated. There was a look in her eyes, dark. She wasn’t meeting my gaze.

...maybe she really’s going to do what Jack told her about forgoing her rules more. Maybe she’ll fix Glory Girl’s perception of her – not to make her love Panacea more, but to forget all that ever happened. Best of luck with that, I hope that won’t backfire horribly – and that it’s that and not something else.

Now that Skitter was healed and able to counter Bonesaw’s prions – parasites producing prions, if I understood things correctly – she can resume her pursuit. How long did it take Panacea heal Skitter and insert in her the cure for the miasma? Three, four minutes? That’s plenty of time to run away. If she goes in the same direction Jack and Bonesaw will go now, she may have a chance of catching up to them. If I had to guess, they’d go get Cherish, so they’d go in direction of the shipyard. I wonder if I’m right.

To search for them, Skitter decides to use the Slaughterhouse Nine’s strategies against them. They use smoke to kill bugs? Then she’ll use that smoke to track them! Where bugs die, the Slaughterhouse Nine will have passed through! With that plan, Skitter manages to find the trail, soon dividing in two, meaning they separated.

Three trails. I stopped in mid-air.

Three?

...um...okay, I didn’t see this one coming.

The three trails turn into half-dozen trails later. Clearly there are shenanigans afoot. It’s a shame, I thought Skitter was being clever about following the trail of bug-killing smoke, but looks like she was outsmarted. I bet none of the trails are the right one, that they stopped emitting the smoke and...somehow those other trails are fake. Better luck next time, Skitter.

Mechanical spiders. They’d found their maker, and Bonesaw was using them to distribute the vapor and cut off my swarm sense.

Oh! That makes sense. I had completely forgotten about the mechanical spiders. Sounds about right.

There’s only one conclusion to be reached here:

They’d escaped.

Not surprised. What I do wonder, though, is how many are alive right now. Bonesaw and Jack are two, obviously. The Siberian may be three, most likely. Are Crawler and Mannequin dead? I’m not certain, it’s said they died but I haven’t seen concrete proof yet. Shatterbird is supposed to be with Regent, but she doesn’t count because she’s captured. Cherish...tentatively counting her because I suppose they’ll be retrieving her at some point. That means there are around four left, if Crawler and Mannequin really did die. At this pace I wonder if any of these four will die soon! Sure seems like that, given these developments.

For now I have to stop. This is a really long arc, it seems.

Next time: in two updates

#worm liveblog #worm #webserial #webserial liveblog #liveblog

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itsallavengers · 7 years

Note

Now I want to know the whole capture the flag story oh my god they are savages and I love them

Everyone blames Clint for starting it, later on, but in reality he was just the one who mentioned it in passing at the breakfast table on the morning of that Fateful Day.

In fact, they hadn’t even been that into the idea. Tony had outright laughed and then just wandered back off to the workshop. Natasha had turned to him and pulled a face of disdain. It had only been Bruce, Thor and Steve who were wholly into the idea. Thought it would be good for ‘team building’.

Oh, how wrong they were.

(Read more under the cut)

“PUT DOWN THE GUN, ROMANOV, OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL PUT MY SUIT AROUND YOU AND SET IT TO SELF-DESTRUCT.”

“GIVE ME THE FLAG OR STEVE’S GETTING IT IN THE KNEE!”

“You can’t seriously be…. you’re not actually going to shoot him right?” Bruce asked weakly, standing between them with his hands up, trying to calm both Natasha and Tony, who were facing off in between a red and gold flag Tony had rendered earlier that morning.

Natasha turned to him. “Don’t underestimate me, Banner.”

Tony wiped the cut over his eye and raised the repulsor he’d rigged up. “Clint already fucking tranqued Captain America, Bruce, their team are full of monsters. We need you. We need you to-”

“I’m not hulking out over a pimped up game of tag, now both of you put down your fucking weapons!” Bruce yelled.

Steve chose that moment to headbutt Natasha in the stomach and steal the gun from her hand. Which would’ve been all well and good- but they hadn’t accounted for Thor swinging down off the rafters and punching Steve sqaure in the jaw before running to the flag himself.

Tony fired a warning shot which may or may not have been slightly above ‘warning shot’ levels. “Touch my flag again, you bastard, and I’ll fry the lot of you,” he dared. From the floor, Steve groaned and raised his hands in a thumbs up gesture of agreement.

Thor removed himself from the wall he had been inserted into by Tony’s ‘warning shot’ and smiled. “Two against one, Iron Man. Barton is on his way. Captain America is down and Bruce will no longer fight for you. You cannot win.”

Tony bared his teeth. “I will go down with this flag, motherfuckers.”

Natasha picked the gun off the floor and pointed it right at his dick. “Wanna risk it, Stark?” She said, other hand stretching out. “Give us the flag.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Give us the flag.”

“Give me your gun.”

“That’s…. that’s so not how this works.”

Tony shrugged, the hand gripping at the flag pole tapping out a staccato rhythm with his fingers. “My house, my rules.”

God. He hoped the new AI he’d designed (after Clint had fucking gone into the servers and put JARVIS to sleep) would work. Because he was going to do something pretty stupid.

“Steve, darling?” He called after another few seconds, “you remember what happened at Central Park, with the football tryouts?”

On the floor, Steve paused his pained rolling. Tony knew he was casting his mind back to when they’d last been at the park, and Steve had gone over to watch some guys playing (some admittedly terrible) football with one another before snapping after thirty seconds and running over in order to give them a lesson in how to effectively tackle someone

“Riiight through the window,” Tony said, putting a foot behind him and bracing.

It seemed their enemies realised what was happening at the same time Steve did, because as soon as Steve jerked back to his feet, Thor was already reaching out.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on which way you looked at it) Steve was faster.

“Tony wHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D-!” Bruce yelled loudly, the rest of his sentence cut off as suddenly Clint launched into the room and drop-kicked him efficiently.

Tony didn’t have the chance to answer anyway. Too busy being forcefully tackled by Captain America, their precious red and gold flag still clutched in his hand. He felt the air leave his lungs fast, pushed out by the pressure of Steve’s shoulder on his chest, and his feet weren’t even on the floor as Steve just sprinted further and further and further.

“LATER, TEAM CRAP!” He yelled out to them, giving one last wave before Steve pushed them through the window and sent them falling down to the streets below.

Ha. The flag was still theirs. Now all they had to do was survive this bit.

Luckily, the CCTV cameras had caught the pattern he’d been drumming into the pole a few seconds previously and had deployed the suit immediately, because Tony watched it shoot out of the window after them , latching around the bracelets he’d slipped onto Steve’s wrists as they’d been hurtling down the side of the tower. It was a terrible fit- his and Steve’s bodies weren’t exactly similar- but it did the trick, and with a yell of mild panic, Steve hit the repulsors like Tony had taught him and balanced them out in the air, about eight floors from the street. Tony felt the pull as Steve slowed them both down, but didn’t let go of the Flag. Not after all the effort he’d gone through in order to keep hold of it.

Up above, he saw Clint and Natasha peering out of the window after him. “BRUCE JUST HULKED OUT,” Clint cupped his hands and yelled, and then Tony watched both him and Natasha duck as a piano flew out of the window.

“THAT MEANS WE WIN!” Tony yelled back up.

“WE WILL NEVER SURR-” Another crash, and then a green fist flashed through the window, just for a second, and suddenly Clint was falling out of the hole Tony and Steve had made seconds previously.

Natasha cocked her head and watched him for a second, before turning back to them. “DO YOU MIND JUST GRABBING HIS ANKLE OR SOMETHING?” She called down.

“The question is, do we actually want to do that?” Tony mused, whilst Steve snorted and flew up to meet the flailing body of their insufferable archer, “also, honey, this might be bad timing, but I’d like to point out that you flying my armour is insanely hot and I would definitely like to explore this in future-”

His voice was drowned out as Clint’s body smashed into him, and he huffed in annoyance. “Why does he have to interrupt me all the time? Barton, I was discussing important relationship things and you just fucking drop in and-”

“Oh, God, if you’re talking about your stupid armour kink then you can just drop me again,” Clint declared, before making a grab for the flag. Tony screamed, batting him over the head and trying to scramble as far away from Steve’s hold as he was able.

“ENOUGH!” Steve grabbed them both by the collars of their shirts and tore them apart, until both of them were dangling on opposite ends of Steve’s arms. Tony only noted minimal wobble as Steve balanced out on the foot repulsors, too, which meant he was learning- that was always nice to see. “I am calling a ceasefire on this game. Both of you stand down.”

“Steve!” Tony said, betrayed, whilst Clint just made another fruitless grab for the flag.

“I’m being responsible,” Steve said primly, before smiling, “also I’m pretty sure I’m concussed right now. And three of us just fell out of a window. Two went voluntarily. I think it’s time to call it quits.”

Tony folded his arms and then jerked out a leg, aiming for Clint’s shin across Steve’s body. Clint jerked away, and Steve hastened to steady them again, just as Clint reached out an arm and punched Tony in the shoulder, making it go dead. Reflexively, Tony’s grip relaxed on the pole as he winced- only realising his grave mistake as he watched the flag drop don where he couldn’t grab and keep going, down. down down, until-

“Well, that solves that problem,” Steve shrugged, watching the flag as it clattered onto the road and was then crushed brutally by a truck seconds later. He frowned as both Tony, Clint and Natasha from a hundred feet above them, all screamed in horror.

“Barton, I’m going to ruin your life,” Tony turned to him, “you made me drop my flag and I’m going to ruin your fucking life-”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were that weak, did I-”

“Fuck you, my team still won.”

“No you didn’t!”

Steve gave them both a warning shake, and they went silent, Clint sullenly folding his arms. “As team leader of the Avengers, I declare our team the winners,” he said, before shooting upward, back toward the floor they’d started out on.

Clint yelled in outrage. “Bias! Under what grounds?”

Steve looked to Clint, and then over to Tony. “Well, for one thing, he was the last one to hold onto it.” He paused, and then shrugged. “Also he’s really hot and I’m very easily swayed by him.”

Before Clint could even gag, Steve chucked him back through the window where Natasha was waiting. Tony grinned down at both of them, wrapping his arms around Steve as they hovered in the air. “Well that was fun, kids,” he said sweetly, as Clint looked around for something to undoubtedly try and shoot them with, “but you heard Cap. Our team won. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have to go to hospital.”

“I will murder you in your sleep,” Natasha said bluntly.

“Losers talk!” Tony sung to her as Steve lifted them through the air to a safer distance, aiming for the penthouse.

Below him, he heard a particularly violent Russian curse, but chose to ignore it. He was the bigger man, after all. “Are you actually concussed?” He chose to say instead, turning to Steve.

“Well, Thor hit me very hard.”

“He tends to do that when he gets overexcited.”

“This was a really bad idea.”

“With hindsight, I can see why.”

There was a short silence, and then Steve turned back to him. “Rematch next week?”

Oh, Tony loved him. “Obviously”

#avengers #domestic avengers fic #stevetony #itsallavengers writes #this is the only sort of civil war i care about #also yes this is like five months old but there are like 11 ficlets in my drafts that i havent posted and i wanted to just try clear them al

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