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respectthepetty · 1 year

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The Answer's in the Wall

Round 4 of I-Should've-Just-Binged-Midnight-Museum-When-It-Was-Finished!

Find Round 1 , Round 2, Round 3, and a bonus here.

Put on your tin foil hats because I have a last minute theory: Chan knew CPR. He was wearing a baseball cap with the zodiac on it and a scale for justice. He came out of nowhere. Dome showed that he can move through space and TIME. What if Chan saw the end of the world, and went back to the past to fix it, yet ended up dying, which caused him to curse Khatha with the very thing that will end the world in the future - himself?

You Can't Change the Past

Now that the season of Midnight Museum is ending next week on April 4, 2023 with ten episodes instead of fifteen, don't you find it strange that the first call in the phone booth came from April 4, 2023? *has a show ever been promoted as a season finale and not just a finale?*

Tum told himself to call Phone because that was "the only way." Tum took that to mean that it was the only way to change the past and save Phone, yet we saw that never happened because Tum was calling different universes.

Tum had spent years looking for phone booth, just for it to be revealed that Khatha had it. He makes Khatha call himself, and we see the scene from earlier when they first met play out again, but this time, with the knowledge that Khatha was calling himself.

Yet we haven't seen Tum call himself. All the calls Tum made in the past were to Phone in the past. Tum hasn't called himself yet. And now that he took the phone booth apart, can he call himself still or does he have the knowledge to make his Blackberry (that was recalled for being defective) a magic cellphone?

Because what he really needs is to tell Phone that he loves him. He needs his past self to say it. He can't save Phone, but he can let Phone know he loves him. He can't control Phone's death. That's not what he needs to fix. He needs to tell Phone he loves him before he dies. That is what he can fix.

And why is that important? Because we already knew prior to this episode that we can't change the past

But we can learn from it

Chan knew why Khatha acted as he did, but couldn't forgive him, so what if that leads Chan from not learning from his past and causing the end of the world, which could have been the very thing he was trying to prevent?

Imperfections are bad?

A few people have mentioned how Midnight Museum seems to imply that having a limp or wooden leg make a person incomplete. But Tum's and the other stories are showing us a valuable lesson - There is no such thing as perfect and trying to fix the wrong thing will only lead to more problems.

Anne wanted a real leg and was willing to kill for it. Ton lost her because of her greed. Moth wanted Rin back, but was content living in their memories rather than working on how he messed up in the present, so he killed her. Jib stayed so focused on who Dome was in the past that he was unable to admit that he was a completely different person. June stayed stuck in her memories of her lost love, so she became a ghost. Ing wanted a perfect life, and Bee wanted her perfect life back instead of trying to work on the lives they had. They killed the only man who was trying to make it work in the present. Much like Adam and Eve being banished from Eden, spending too much time trying to recreate what they had or striving for the life they think they should have robbed all of these characters of the life they have, now.

Chan healed Khatha, but not by getting rid of his limp. Chan healed Khatha by being a person who he could love. Khatha never needed his leg healed. He needed a friend. Chan, like all the others, fixed the wrong issue.

Chan died because Khatha tried to fix his problem by isolating Chan, when he should've tried opening himself up to others, something he still hadn't learned 200 years later.

Tarot Cards, Lotus, & the Moon

Dome is trying to figure out his past but starts trying to see the future. Limbo Khatha tells him to focus on what he can do, now.

The Magician (tarot card) is about having the confidence that people possess the skills they need to do anything they want to do for good. In reverse, it can mean greed and using skills for bad.

Chan told Khatha that he was his own strength which is why he named him Khatha, but everyone believed their strength came from Chan. Chan looked at Boon turn Khatha away and only followed Khatha after. Even now, Anthika is blinded because she was tempted by Dome's power instead of believing in Chan's powers.

There is only one Chan. Somehow his power turned from helping others to maintaining his position.

Dome is not Chan. Tum explained that different universes have different versions of people, but I don't think Dome is truly a version of Chan. The lotus and the moon are symbolic of rebirth, so Chan should be reborn. That is what Boon is hoping for because he tested Dome, and Dome isn't Chan. There is only one Chan. But he needs Dome's body.

Stray Thoughts

Anthika, who was blinded and we know can impersonate others or shape shift, took over Triphop's body

But it's interesting that Triphop was shown in the trailer to have something happening with his eyes

And The One said he was going to help a poor man's slightness eyes

This looks like the Marian Cross

Which is used as a reminder of Mary's role in the redemption and resurrection of Jesus. Anthika is doing the most.

I don't think this is Dome. I think it is Chan, dying again, but this time, in Khatha's arms.

I think this is Dome getting to live a normal life because maybe he loses his powers in the great battle for humanity

What's with the gum?

What else do these names mean since Phone was during the phone booth, Moth was for the moths episode, and Chan and Khatha's names tell who they are?

The kids are being used as sacrifices, but why so many when the stone already killed the entire school?

The dates Tum rattled off: June 14, 2011 3:18 pm; January 2, 2010 7:12 am; April 17, 2012 5:34 pm; December 20, 2012; December 19, 1991, plus the ones we already have May 1820, November 2022, and February 24, 2023 9:02 pm must mean something, but Tum never finished saying what.

Finally, WHAT IS BEHIND THE WALL?!

Is it the feelings that both Dome and Khatha are hiding for each other since they are obviously in love with each other!

Brothers? Sure, Jan.

#Midnight Museum #I should've binged it #Dome x Khatha #What is with the gum?!#Anthika comparing herself to Mother Maria?!#My Catholic soul is shooketh

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 14

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Forgot to post this last night, whoops, but in my defence I am absolutely drowning under uni work at the moment, so I’m quite surprised I even had the energy to proof read and post tonight...

<<<Chapter 13

The table was already piled high with steaming food when they entered the room, but Scott’s attention was more taken by the man sat at the head. Not-Dad caught his eye and gestured to the seat at his right. Scott hadn’t planned to sit near the man if he could help it, but it appeared the patriarch had other ideas.

Swallowing down his reluctance, he crossed the floor, greeting Mrs Tracy, who was attempting to set the table even as Tin-Tin tried to persuade her gently to take her own seat, and took the offered chair.

Steely grey eyes swept up and down his outfit, and Not-Dad’s mouth settled into a thin line, but much to Scott’s relief he didn’t comment. Not directly, at least.

“I see you had a successful trip,” he said. Scott shrugged.

“Fashion here’s different,” he said, glancing over as the rest of the family took their seats, Other-Virgil slipping in before Other-Kyrano finished bringing the food over to the table. “As you’ve no doubt noticed.”

“That I have,” Not-Dad agreed. “At least no-one outside of this organisation will be seeing you, so now you have your own clothes I suppose you can dress as you wish.” He still sounded somewhat dubious about it, but Scott would take what he could get.

“Those were my thoughts, too, Father,” Other-Scott joined in, from where he was sat a little way down the table between Other-Virgil and Mrs Tracy. “He might as well be comfortable while he’s here.”

“Indeed,” Not-Dad said. “I have informed some trusted friends of your predicament in the hopes of increasing our chances of getting you home, and locating anyone else who may have come through. I am sure their names will be familiar to you; as I recall, you mentioned a ‘Lady P’ earlier?”

Had he? Scott didn’t remember everything that he’d said to the man, but that seemed likely enough. He nodded.

“I assume that refers to our London agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward,” Not-Dad continued. “She has been made aware and intends to visit in the near future.”

Scott felt a flash of frustration that things were being organised over his head – or behind his back, maybe – but buried it deep with the reminder that here, he wasn’t Commander. He wasn’t anything, except someone in need of rescuing, and this man next to him was the man in charge of the organisation trying to get him home.

“Yeah, we have a Lady Penelope,” he confirmed. “And Parker?”

“A fine butler,” Not-Dad agreed.

Scott nodded awkwardly, a little unsure at the way Not-Dad’s first description for him was ‘butler’. It wasn’t inaccurate, but to him, Parker was so much more than just Lady Penelope’s butler, and he wasn’t sure if that was a relationship that had carried over.

Lady Penelope and Parker had been invaluable after the Zero-X, after all.

Scott cut that train of thought off out of habit before it could spiral too far. The last thing he needed to do was start crying about Dad while sat next to his doppelgänger in another universe.

He was saved from any further awkward conversation by Other-Kyrano announcing that the dinner was ready and inviting them to help themselves.

“Thank you, Kyrano,” Not-Dad said, before picking up a platter of carved meat and offering it to Scott. For his part, Scott was looking at the large, homemade spread and trying not to drool at the prospect of edible food.

“Thanks,” he said, helping himself to a few slices. That appeared to be the cue for everyone else to tuck in, and Scott found himself part of a full dining table for the first time in a long time. Other-John was absent, of course, no doubt squirrelled away on Thunderbird Five eating rehydrated food, and it was obvious that this Tracy family, too, had lost their mom, but with the Kyranos and even Other-Brains apparently resurfacing when he hadn’t been looking, not to mention Not-Dad, it felt like the sort of meal Scott hadn’t been able to have in eight years, and had thought he’d never have again.

He took a large bite of the food to stop his rising emotions overflowing. Other-Alan, sitting opposite him, shot him an unimpressed look but thankfully seemed too busy listening to Tin-Tin next to him to comment.

“Magnificent as always, Kyrano,” Not-Dad announced after a few moments, which seemed to be the cue for the rest of the family to interject with their own praise. Scott was more than happy to join in, which got several pairs of eyes on him, seeming like they were gauging how genuine he was. Only Tin-Tin had a knowing, and slightly sad, smile on her face.

“Say,” Other-Alan cut in, “how does this compare to what you normally eat? Our Kyrano’s the better cook, isn’t he?”

It was a loaded question, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alan, that’s enough of that,” Not-Dad said. “There’s to be no comparison of which universe is ‘better’, you hear me?”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Alan frowned. “But I can’t be the only one that wants to know what he really thinks of the food.”

“Alan!” Other-Scott added in, but Scott shrugged.

“It’s the best homemade meal I’ve had in years,” he said honestly, nodding at Other-Kyrano, who seemed flustered at the praise. “None of us can cook half as well back home.”

“Not even your Kyrano?” Other-Alan pressed, despite the sharp snap of his name from Not-Dad.

“Alan,” Tin-Tin interjected gently, putting a hand on his arm. He ignored her, too, and light blue eyes pinned Scott where he sat.

Scott took another mouthful of the mouth-wateringly good food and swallowed it before answering.

“Kyrano hasn’t lived with us for years,” he said simply. “It’s just the four of us – five when John’s down – with Grandma, Brains and Kayo – she’s our Tin-Tin – on the island.”

There was silence, and he took the chance to help himself to more of the food on the central platters. It really was good, and if he was eating, he could at least pretend he wasn’t the focus of several varyingly sympathetic looks.

“Where did he go, if you don’t mind my asking, sir?” It was Other-Kyrano who asked, and Scott tried not to react to being called sir.

He shrugged again. “None of us know,” he admitted between mouthfuls. “He retired and vanished. Kayo tries to get in contact with him every now and then, but as far as I know she’s never been successful.”

Scott could feel the elephant in the room, the question on all their tongues even though none of them – not even the otherwise abrasive Other-Alan – wanted to be the one to say it. He sighed and speared a section of meat with his fork, knowing that the question wouldn’t go away until he addressed it.

“Yes,” he said, “it was just after we lost Dad.” He shoved the fork into his mouth and chewed aggressively on the meat, staring down at his plate rather than facing anyone at the table. A hand landed on his right shoulder, presumably belonging to Other-Gordon, who was sat immediately next to him, but no-one said anything in response.

After a moment, Not-Dad cleared his throat. “Brains, how are you doing with the research?” he asked.

“O-oh!” The scientist jumped, clearly not expecting to be addressed, and Scott sent him a mental apology for being the reason he was suddenly the centre of attention even though he was impatient for updates on that front, too. “I, uh, have gathered a-all the data I, uh, can detect from, uh, Thunderbird One’s hangar w-where Scott, uh, appeared,” Other-Brains said, putting his cutlery down as he spoke. “There appears to be a-an, uh, anomaly of some sort in the, uh, atmospheric r-readings but I, uh, haven’t b-been able to, uh, isolate the c-cause yet.”

“But wouldn’t the cause be the collision that brought him through?” Other-Virgil asked.

“T-that would be the, uh, logical assumption,” Other-Brains agreed, “but, I’d, uh, like some m-more data before I, uh, conclude that for, uh, certain.”

Scott was caught with a mouth full of vegetables when bespectacled eyes found him from the other end of the table, where Other-Brains was sitting between Tin-Tin and Other-Kyrano. “I, uh, would like to run some, uh, samples from you to, uh, isolate the a-anomaly from your, uh, home u-universe,” the scientist continued.

Scott swallowed the food. “Whatever you need,” he agreed eagerly. Maybe a little desperately. “Just say when you want them.”

“I’ll, uh, let you know,” Other-Brains promised. It wasn’t ideally the answer Scott was looking for – a definitive time would have been nice – but it was something and he nodded in acknowledgement.

That seemed to be the cue for the hubbub of conversation to start up again. Scott stayed out of it, content to eat and listen, and at the head of the table, Not-Dad seemed likewise content to listen to what his sons were saying as they started talking about what seemed to be normal, everyday things. Scott had the context for none of it and was unsurprisingly completely at a loss as to what any of them were talking about.

Tin-Tin and Mrs Tracy seemed to be holding a conversation about fashion and something that sounded like Pennylon, which Scott assumed was a brand or something, while the brothers engaged in some apparently long-standing banter, although he definitely heard billiards and bet in the hubbub.

Nothing was said about International Rescue, and Scott wondered if that was because he was there, even though he’d sat in on one of their debriefs, or if this family also had a ban on talking business over meals. It was probably the latter.

“Gordon,” Not-Dad said suddenly, cutting into the conversation. “What’s this about a bet I hear?”

The son in question grinned, and further down the table, Other-Scott rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a real one, Father,” Other-Gordon said. “But with Scott here wanting clothes that our Scott wouldn’t normally buy, we had to come up with a reason for his sudden change in taste.”

“So he claimed I bet he couldn’t beat the whole family at billiards,” Other-Scott added. “A bet that I apparently lost, with those clothes as my forfeit.”

Not-Dad chuckled, startling Scott, who hadn’t heard anything except stern patriarch from the man since he’d first met him. Suddenly he seemed a lot more like Dad, and a lump formed in his throat. Scott hurried to put another mouthful of food in his mouth to have a reason for his need to swallow.

“He did, did he?” the older man said. “How many times have you played him so far today?”

“I stopped counting after twelve,” Other-Scott said.

“I see,” Not-Dad mused. “And how many times has he won?” Even Scott could tell he knew what the answer was going to be before it was uttered, but Other-Scott said it anyway.

“Not even once.”

“Maybe we should play chess after dinner instead,” Other-Gordon suggested. His brother laughed.

“But chess wasn’t the bet, was it, Gordon?”

“I think you’ve made your point,” the ginger sulked.

“I’m glad you think so,” Other-Scott said sunnily. “Maybe that’ll teach you to make outlandish claims.”

“I didn’t see you making any suggestions to the contrary,” Other-Gordon pointed out. Sat between them, Other-Virgil’s head was swivelling like an umpire at a tennis match. Conversation across the rest of the table had died down, leaving the two of them the only ones talking.

Two brothers sniping at each other was familiar, and Scott buried himself in the delicious food to try and distract himself from the fact that at home, it would be his brothers sniping at each other, and he might even be involved himself.

No-one seemed to notice his retreat from the conversation, or at least had the manners not to comment on it if they did, and he kept quiet for the rest of the main course.

Dessert passed in much the same manner, with Grandma presenting a gigantic chocolate gateau piled high with fresh strawberries and cream. The entire table fell upon it with gusto, Scott very much included. The ones he picked up from Paris, while the best of professional baking, just weren’t the same as homemade.

“So,” Not-Dad said, once the plates were all licked clean and Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy were bustling around in the kitchen, having cleared the crockery. Tin-Tin had also got up to help them, but none of the others had moved, so Scott took the cue to stay where he was. “What do you boys have planned for the evening?”

“I’ll be continuing with drawing Scott’s brothers,” Other-Virgil said.

“Drawing his brothers?” Not-Dad asked, and he nodded.

“They don’t look identical to us,” Other-Gordon chipped in, “so Virgil’s working with Scott to get portraits together for our reference.”

“I see,” Not-Dad said, and Scott found himself being regarded by the man again. “I’d like to see those once they’re completed.”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Virgil agreed.

“He won’t let any of us see them yet,” Other-Gordon complained.

“I told you,” the artist said, yet again. “Once they’re coloured, and not one moment before.”

A steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Scott, and he glanced up to see Tin-Tin smiling at him. Not wanting to interrupt the conversation now going on between Not-Dad and his sons about the portraits Other-Virgil was working on, he nodded at her in thanks.

Similar cups were finding their way in front of everyone at the table, and Scott assumed a post-meal coffee was part of the routine here. Once everyone was served, Tin-Tin, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy returned to the table with their own drinks and a platter of home-baked cookies.

Tasting the coffee, Scott was pleased to discover Tin-Tin had clearly remembered how he liked it from earlier. The proffered cookies were just as delicious as the cake had been, and by the time they’d finished drinking and eating, Scott was feeling pleasantly full.

He was going to have to make sure he went for his morning run, especially if this was always how they ate here.

“Are you ready to carry on with the portraits?” Other-Virgil asked him after all the cups on the table had been drained dry and the hubbub of conversation had faded away, and he made his way to his feet.

“Sure,” he answered. “Lead the way.”

Other-Virgil’s room was full of frosted glass panels, or so it seemed as Scott followed him inside. Books, on what appeared to be a variety of subjects from art techniques and historic artists to music to what Scott assumed were engineering manuals, lined alcoves in the wall opposite the bed. They were familiar in topic, if not in the particular titles, to the sorts of things he was used to finding in his Virgil’s room.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Other-Virgil invited, nodding at a wooden chair sitting innocuously in the corner as he perched himself on his bed. The sketchbook from earlier had had the respective pages neatly torn out, and Scott caught a glimpse of John’s sketch taped to a large board. Various colouring pencils surrounded the artist where he sat, and Scott obediently retrieved the chair in question to put it down next to the bed so he could see what Other-Virgil was doing.

“What do you want to start with?” he asked, looking at the greyscale picture of his brother and trying to imagine it coloured in. As John was the last brother he’d seen – albeit holographically – before ending up in the wrong universe, it was almost painfully easy to bring him to mind.

“Well, we might as well start with the skin,” Other-Virgil said. “Darker or paler than you?”

That was a good reference point to start with, Scott figured. “Paler,” he replied. “Quite a bit paler. He’s ginger and lives in space most of the time, so he doesn’t get much sun.”

Other-Virgil hummed thoughtfully, fingers dancing over a selection of pencils but not actually selecting one to start. “Do you remember our John well enough to know which one’s darker or paler?” he asked.

“I can’t say I was paying much attention to that,” Scott admitted, wracking his brain to remember how pale Other-John had been. “Mine’s maybe a little paler?”

Other-Virgil nodded and finally selected a pencil. “Say,” he began as he started lightly colouring. “When you say he’s in space most of the time – don’t you fellas have a rotation for Thunderbird Five?”

“A rotation?” Scott tried to imagine telling John he had to share his ‘bird with someone else on a regular basis – someone who wasn’t EOS – and failed miserably. John would probably lock down Thunderbird Five and refuse entry to anyone if Scott so much as breathed a notion about sharing space monitor duty regularly. “No, John’s up there most of the year. He’s happiest there, so it works out.”

“But aren’t there health detriments to staying in space for so long?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott winced.

“A few,” he admitted, “but we’ve done what we can with our technology to minimise them, and it’s not unusual for John to come down for a few days if we’re quiet. We can route the calls straight to Tracy Island if necessary, although the signal isn’t as good and we’re more liable to miss things.” He frowned thoughtfully. “You guys have a rotation?”

Other-Virgil nodded as he set down the pencil he was using and selected another one. Scott peered at the canvas; John’s sketch did look remarkably pale, but the pencil Other-Virgil had selected seemed slightly darker so maybe he planned to layer it up. “John and Alan switch every month, or near enough,” he explained. Scott recalled Other-Alan’s surprising agreement to Other-John’s declaration that he wanted telemetry – it made a lot more sense now. “But John tends to do slightly longer spells than Alan, and very rarely Scott takes a turn if one of them can’t.”

Scott couldn’t imagine sitting up in Thunderbird Five for an entire month, on space monitor duty. He’d done short spells of a couple of days, and that was more than enough for him.

“How does this look so far?” Other-Virgil asked after a few more moments, putting his pencil down and turning the board until Scott could look at it properly. “Too pale?”

Scott peered at it again, but without the vibrant hair or piercing eyes, judging the skin colour was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

“Maybe a little?” he offered, a bit uncertainly.

“How about we move on to his hair for now?” Other-Virgil suggested. “You say he’s ginger?”

Scott nodded. “Very striking,” he confirmed. “Brighter than your Gordon’s.”

Other-Virgil selected a pencil and made some firm strokes across the curl above John’s forehead. “Like this?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Scott confirmed, watching the almost orange pencil continue to follow the sweep of John’s hair. Other-Virgil nodded in acknowledgement, and settled in to keep colouring the hair. He didn’t seem to have any difficulty with the colour; Scott didn’t have to make any corrections, only a couple of confirmations when asked, during the entire process.

Then it was time for his eyes, and this particular little brother of his had never had the easiest eyes to describe, not helped by the fact that Scott saw them through a blue-tinted hologram far more frequently than he actually saw them in person.

“Blue turquoise or green turquoise?” Other-Virgil asked after his initial attempt, and Scott hesitated. They always looked almost blue in the hologram, but then the hologram itself was blue, so…

“Green?” he hedged. “Maybe?”

Other-Virgil seemed slightly amused at his inability to remember the exact colour, if the uptick to his lips was any indication, but dutifully selected a few pencils in the blue-green area, as best Scott could tell, and started adding in flecks to the irises.

Seeing his brother come to life from the paper as Other-Virgil added more and more detail with the pencils brought that lump back in his throat, which Scott swallowed around in the hopes of pushing it down before Other-Virgil looked up and noticed.

No such luck, apparently, as brown eyes glanced up at him and gained a sympathetically concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Other-Virgil asked, setting the pencil and board down and twisting to look at him properly.

“I’m fine,” Scott insisted, but he could tell Other-Virgil wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“You know,” he said gently, “we don’t have to do this all now.”

It was very reminiscent of Other-Gordon’s attitude during their shopping trip, and Scott slouched back on the chair.

“You need to know who you’re looking out for,” he pointed out. “We’ve already established I can’t describe them well enough, so this is the only way we’ve got.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Other-Virgil allowed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to push yourself so hard.”

“They’re my brothers,” Scott snapped back, harsher than he intended. “If they’re somehow here-”

“I understand,” Other-Virgil interjected. Startled at the interruption, Scott’s mouth clicked shut. “Gordon’s right; you’re just like our Scott, and we know how overprotective over us he gets.” A hand landed on his shoulder, and those deep brown eyes searched his. For what, Scott wasn’t sure. “If your brothers are somehow here, we will find them. John’s already listening out, and I’m sure your brothers are smart enough to get themselves somewhere where they can be easily found by the right people. What we’re doing will help, I agree, but if they’re here, it’s not what will find them.”

Scott grit his jaw.

“I have to do something,” he said. A measure of desperation bled through into his voice.

“Look after yourself,” Other-Virgil told him, not unkindly. “That’s what your brothers will want.” Scott looked up at him, startled, and Other-Virgil held his gaze steadily. “I’m sure that, if you’re like Scott, I must be like your brother, too,” he continued. “Look after yourself. Let us help you.”

His hair was different, but his eyes were just the same.

Other-Gordon had said the same thing. Scott wondered if he was in for a similar speech from all of them at one point or another.

“I have to do this,” he said, leaning forwards and gesturing at the still-uncoloured sketches of his three youngest brothers. “I have to.”

Other-Virgil surveyed him for a moment, but must have seen something in his face, because he nodded and pulled his hand back.

“I understand,” he said. “So, would you say we’re done with your John?” He picked up the coloured picture and showed it to Scott.

It was definitely John. The sketch had caught his likeness perfectly, but with the addition of the colours, it was really him.

“Yeah,” he said, around that lump that seemed determined to appear in his throat at any reminder of his brothers. “That’s him.”

Other-Virgil took a moment to look at the finished drawing, and Scott wondered what he was thinking. Whatever thoughts were running through his head, though, he didn’t say them and after a moment set the image aside. It was Virgil’s sketch that he prepped next.

It had to be weird, Scott thought as they started the same process again, for the brown-haired man to know he was colouring in a version of himself from another universe – that hopefully, if Scott really was the only one to have fallen through, he would never meet. Still, Other-Virgil seemed well enough up to the challenge, even if he raised an eyebrow upon Scott’s confirmation that yes, Virgil’s hair was black and not just a very dark brown.

The eyes, at least, were slightly easier. Unlike with Other-John and John, where the former he’d only seen through various sized screens and hadn’t been able to get any real gauge on the exact shade of his eyes, Other-Virgil – as well as Other-Gordon and Other-Alan – had the exact same eyes as Scott’s own brothers.

Other-Virgil, entirely understandably in Scott’s opinion, spent several minutes studying the finished drawing once Scott proclaimed it accurate, but just as with John’s portrait, kept his opinions to himself.

It was dark outside Other-Virgil’s bedroom window by the time all of the sketches were coloured. Instinctively, Scott looked at his wrist for the time, only to be stymied by the analogue dial he’d yet to get anyone to explain to him.

“It’s getting late,” Other-Virgil commented, seemingly only just noticing how dark it was even though he’d turned the lights on about halfway through colouring Alan’s. “Should we show the fellas now or in the morning?”

“Might as well do it now, if they’re still up,” Scott shrugged. “What is the time, anyway?”

“Aren’t you wearing Scott’s watch?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott sighed.

“Yeah, but I can’t read it,” he admitted. “We haven’t used this system in half a century back home.”

“Do you want me to talk you through it now?” Other-Virgil offered, setting the drawings aside and leaning forwards. “It shouldn’t be too complicated for you, I shouldn’t think.”

Scott glanced down at the dial, taunting him with numbers and spokes he couldn’t quite decipher. “That would help,” he admitted, extending his wrist. “So, what am I looking at here?”

Other-Virgil shuffled closer and caught his forearm to steady it. “Well, each point on the edge of the face are the hours, with twelve at the top, followed by one on the immediate right,” he said, pointing at the points in question. Scott nodded. “The shorter hand is the hour hand, and it points at the hour. If it’s pointing between numbers, like it is right now” – it was between the nine and the ten markers – “the hour is the one it’s passed. That makes it nine, here.” Scott nodded again.

“The other hands,” he started, assuming all of the long thin spokes coming from the centre had the same term. “Minutes and seconds?”

“That’s correct,” Other-Virgil confirmed. “The wider, slower, hand is the minutes. Each hour point is five minutes apart for the minute hand, starting from the top of the dial.”

Scott did a quick count. The minute hand was lurking down by the seven hour point, so that meant, “it’s nine thirty-five?”

“That’s right,” Other-Virgil told him. “But we normally say twenty-five to ten. Once it’s past the half hour, we say ‘to’ the hour, rather than ‘past’ the hour.”

That was unnecessarily complicated, in Scott’s opinion. “I’ll try to remember that,” he said out loud, watching the third, slender, hand move around. That was presumably the second hand. “Seconds are counted the same way as minutes?”

“They are, yes,” he was told, Other-Virgil looking quite pleased. “I didn’t think you’d have any trouble with it. Say, what do you fellas use?” He let go of Scott’s wrist.

“Numbers,” Scott shrugged, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Computers update the time every second or minute, depending on the clock, so we just have to read out the numbers.”

“Computers do that?” Other-Virgil asked. Scott found himself surprisingly relieved that the other man seemed to at least know what a computer was. “That sounds very complicated for something as simple as keeping time.”

Scott shrugged. “It’s simple enough for us to use,” he said.

“Well, I suppose it’s what you’re used to,” Other-Virgil commented. “The other fellas should still be up, so we can show them the portraits of your brothers now.” Scott watched him gather up the four drawings and made his own way to his feet, putting the chair back in the corner where it had been earlier.

Chapter 15>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #jeff tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #kyrano #tin-tin kyrano #brains #grandma tracy

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piratewithvigor · 3 years

Text

Stars

Chapter 4: 2013

In which our hero goes camping again

“Come on, we should be there soon, shouldn’t we?”

“Can’t you stop griping and just enjoy the walk?”

“How can I? You spent the three months before we moved here telling me about how dangerous this place is. Quizzing me on how to defend myself against 400 different species.”

“Aww, are you scared?”

“No!”

Kane couldn’t help but laugh. Daniel was terrified out of his wits. It was almost painfully obvious. Every time he thought Kane couldn’t see him, his eyes kept darting around the trees surrounding them. Inspecting the trees for things that might want to kill them. Which was fairly useless; everything in the Valley wanted to kill them, but nothing would dare. They knew they were under protection of the Undertaker and the creatures of the Valley respected such protection.

Even still, it just took one rogue beast to end both of them and turn them into dinner. They wouldn’t hesitate if they were hungry; the only vegan in the Valley was Daniel.

He took Daniel’s hand gently, doing his best to soothe his husband. Having had hardly any touches that weren’t meant to hurt him for decades, sometimes the gentler touches took Kane a little longer to get used to. Daniel was still the only one he could bear to touch for an extended length of time and certainly the only one he could bring himself to initiate such a touch with.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. Daniel exhaled softly as he squeezed a little.

He’d been excited for this trip. Hiking, camping; they were some of his favorite hobbies outside the ring. It was usually like pulling teeth to get Kane to want to come along. But he’d suggested this trip. The trip he used to take with his family on the first weekend of autumn. Spending the night in the woods of the Valley together, bonding. Kane didn’t talk about his family from before the fire too often, so Daniel was certainly not going to question why he brought it up then. Of course, at the time, the excitement had overridden the recollection that camping in the Valley was about equally dangerous as camping on a cliff face in the Grand Canyon. Except the danger was only held at bay by an unspoken supernatural promise.

So many questions from the Valley were better left unasked and just accepted.

“You’re gonna like it,” Kane promised. “It’s pretty. A lot of really soft grass.”

“I trust you.” Daniel wasn’t going to add that for as long as he’d lived there, he’d hardly seen any living grass, let alone really soft grass. Kane was excited, so he was going to keep his worries at bay. “You’re sure you remember the way, right?”

“Spent a night here every year for six years. I could find the clearing in my sleep.”

“Maybe, but that was thirty years ago.”

“Are you calling me old?”

“A little.”

“Take it back, or no s’mores for you.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“That’s life.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back.”

“Not good enough.”

Daniel exhaled in exasperation. “I’m sorry I called you old.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I called you a goat.”

“You didn’t call me a goat.”

“I know. Now I’ve got one apology saved up for next time I do,” Kane grinned and avoided Daniel attempting a swat to the back of his head.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.”

Kane wasn’t exactly sure how he’d tricked Daniel into liking him. When they first met, they had some of the most awful fights Kane had ever been a part of. Both physically and emotionally. He hated Daniel at first. They would scream at each other until Kane was as hoarse as he’d been when he was re-learning how to talk. They were the tag team champions together and a formidable duo, but nothing like any other tag team Kane had been a part of. Everything felt wrong and off working with Daniel and it wasn’t because he felt like beating him more than their opponents. They just… had nothing in common. Except that they were both fueled with enough rage to be sent to anger management therapy together.

Kane had been gritting his teeth and hardly keeping himself from throwing Daniel through a wall every week. Until one week. The week of the trust falls.

“Daniel, just fall backwards, and Kane will catch you.”

“I will?”

He didn’t want to catch Daniel. Daniel didn’t want to be caught by Kane. Dr. Shelby was insistent. If they did this exercise, they might have a real breakthrough. Breakthroughs meant they could stop coming to these damn therapy sessions. Whether it was the promise of a breakthrough or the threat of having to do the exercise the next week, Kane wasn’t sure, but Daniel turned around.

“Kane, I trust you.”

He’d been stunned silent for a moment. Almost forgot to catch Daniel. But he didn’t. He caught Daniel’s shoulders easily and kept him from hitting the deceptively hard floor. The weight of a man who trusted him so completely so quickly was in his hands. He’d shoved Daniel upright to avoid letting him know his hands were shaking from getting so quickly overwhelmed with emotion. Dr. Shelby had been so proud of them. Moved them right on to the next phase of the exercise: working together. They were both instructed to catch some loser from the group. Even though they both put out their arms to catch him, he hit the floor hard as they pulled their arms back.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Daniel had asked.

“Did you know that I wasn’t going to catch him?” Kane replied. A quiet smile had spread over Daniel’s lips.

“I think I finally understand you, Kane.”

They’d kissed for the first time that night. Still fought like cats and dogs, but in moments alone in the hotel rooms, they kissed. Sometimes they went further, sometimes they didn’t.

“We’re almost there,” Kane broke the silence, pointing with the hand that wasn’t interwoven with Daniel’s.

“Where? I don’t see any grass anywhe- holy shit…” The sight of the little clearing filled with lush, green grass seemed to take Daniel’s breath away.

“What do you think? Worth the hike?”

Daniel didn’t answer. Almost like he was dumbfounded such a soft place could exist within the harshness of the Valley.

“Daniel?”

“Very worth it.”

“You good setting up the tent while I gather the firewood?”

“Kane, I fucking swear, if you leave me alone in these woods, I will shit in your sleeping bag.”

One argument about proper firewood, one argument about tent raising techniques and three arguments about setting fires later, both of them were lying in the grass, watching the smoke from the dying fire rise into the night air.

“You shouldn’t be able to start a fire by hugging a log,” Daniel mumbled, snuggling up to Kane’s chest.

“I know.”

“How do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“Sure. To what?”

“Dunno. Know any good camping stories?”

“Well, there was one time I went camping with AJ and she needed to pee, but the bush under her was poison ivy and-”

“A different story!” Kane groaned, shuddering at the idea. Either because he didn’t want to know what happened with the poison ivy or because he didn’t want to know anything more about AJ than he already did. She was responsible for sending Daniel to anger management, so Kane owed her for that, but he didn’t want to know anything else.

“Okay, there was a time my family had a reunion at a campground and my aunt chopped up apples and tossed them in apple pie spices, then wrapped them in tin foil and stuck them in the coals of the campfire. Smoky apple pie filling.”

“Sounds tasty.”

“Should’ve told that story before so we could have done the same.”

“Maybe next time.”

He could promise a next time. He could swear that a year from then, he would still love Daniel. They would still be together. They could lie down in the grass and look up at the stars. They could marvel at how big the universe was and how miraculous it was that they found each other.

Far up in the night sky, a red star and one a little bigger seemed a little closer together.

#Stars #Kane #Daniel Bryan #Writing

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idga-buck · 3 years

Text

Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky Barnes x reader fic #bucky x female reader #sebastian stan characters #idga fic #some and others

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sweetsubharry · 3 years

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Do you know of any good Larry fics where one of them is in a abusive relationship and the other saves them from it? Thanks!

I do!

I want to say though; I went through a rough time in my life and it was definitely a coping mechanism for me to read stories like this, so considering the severity of the topic I just wanted to make it extra clear that everyone should read the tags please! <3 if it will not benefit you to read these, please don’t! I can make you a fluffy no hurt comfort request if needed!

HERE is a list for a lot of useful helplines for different areas and reasons!! xx and I’m here if anyone has any raised queries from this :)

once again, please read the tags and stay safe everyone! 💖

These are not in any order but I will say the first five are ones I still often think about, they definitely leave an impression and rebuilt my soul in different ways x

run through rivers and smile by bravestyles

Harry is stuck in a long-term abusive relationship with his abusive boyfriend Sam. His friends try to help him out of it; along the way, Louis and Harry become closer.

breathe into me and make me real by greeneyedstranger

Harry's fading away, bit by bit everyday, and all he can feel is numb. He finds Louis, who's like sunshine, bright and glowing, and smells like red velvet cupcakes and whipped cream.

Petrichor by spotofpurple

Harry is a filthy rich, straight A student that lives in one of the biggest mansions in London with his father. He is also bullied and beaten in school and neglected at home.Louis is a quirky punk who owns a bookshop and sings in a rock band. He is also providing a cover for the two of the most wanted of London’s criminals, Zayn and Niall.When Harry has a panic attack in front of Louis’ bookshop and the older boy helps him, a weird friendship is formed. And soon developed into something neither of the boys expected.

Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou

'Just like a little cat,' Louis thought later, as he drifted off to sleep. 'A little kitten with his claws sunk right into me.' It isn’t that terrible of a thought, after all. ............. Louis is a psychology student with a tattoo count as high as his genius IQ. Harry is in a (sort-of) relationship with a homophobic man and hates himself a little more every day. Things fall apart and Louis puts him back together.

Or, the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

It's A Start by Magiic_Shop

“This is dangerous, love,” Louis smirked, his lips pressed against Harry’s shoulder blade.

“Why’s that?” Harry asked.

“Because,” Louis’ smirk grew into a smile, “I might never want to let you go.”

Harry shifted against Louis, reaching up to cover Louis’ hand on his stomach with his own, “Then don’t.”

Or, the one where Harry can't sleep at night, and because of that, neither can Louis. Louis thinks it could be the start of something.

There is a Rose That I Want to Live For by Yourfavouritechild

How long has the sun been gone from his life. When did the sky fall down. When did the air become so heavy, wrapping around Harry, forcing him to collapse like an old star.

or, Trapped in an abusive relationship, Harry contemplates suicide until a punk rocker enters his life and pulls him up before he drowns.

keep me safe inside your arms by stylinson

When Louis first noticed it he thought nothing much of it, because Harry was just an all-around sweet and caring person, and it made him fall even more in love with him...until it got to a point where Louis realized that Harry was almost too eager to do what he was asked.

You are a lovely adjective, no word ever enough by angelichl

"I love you, Louis thinks now, feeling the words on the tip of his tongue. Willing them to spill out. But he knows that if he spills these treacherous thoughts out loud, Harry will panic. Maybe he'll even run away, like he ran away form The Monster.

I love you, Louis wants to tell him anyway. Wants to whisper it into his hair, kiss it onto his cheekbones, breathe it down his throat.

Instead he chews on his nail and says nothing."

The hurt/comfort AU in which Harry leaves away an abusive relationship, and Louis offers to share his flat

love is so good when the love is young by drunkonyou

Louis falls for his pregnant best friend who has a bit of baggage. They make it work though.

Hideaway. by arrowtomyheart

Harry is in a borderline abusive relationship which ends after the news that Harry's pregnant. He is homeless for the night and travels 3 hours on the train to turn up at his best friend's Liam's house unexpectedly for somewhere to stay. He meets Louis, Liam's flatmate, and they discover that they have more in common that anyone would expect. They fall in love.

It's the Sun In Your Eyes by Bearandleonardwrite

Harry's not the best with relationships. Then he finds Louis.

(Basically; Harry's insecure and hurt, but Louis loves him anyways and knows how to help.)

Shine Like Silver by asphodelknox

Sometimes what you never thought you needed is exactly what you need. Sometimes it's right in front of you. Harry find love when he's broken and abandoned, in the one place he never thought to look. Although once he figures it out, he's really not surprised.

on a wednesday, in a cafe by wreckedboyfriends

“What can I get for you today?” he asked without looking up, arranging the last of the pastries.

“Have any recommendations? Never been here before, actually.” Harry hit his head on the top of the case in his haste to look at the source of the voice. It was a really beautiful voice, small and high and just lovely, if a voice could be lovely. Harry thought so. “Alright, mate?” the man asked when Harry finally composed himself, rubbing the top of his head as he took his place at the register.

Harry opened his eyes, and fuck. If Harry had thought his voice was lovely, the man himself was on a whole other level. “Alright, mate?” He repeated and shit. Harry had been openly staring for quite awhile, hadn’t he?

“Yeah,” Harry replied, and it came out sounding like a semi trailer running over gravel. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he repeated. “Um, the cherry danish is quite good, I think. ’S my favorite.”

The man smiled. “One cherry danish it is, then.”

OR Harry’s spent the last year with six locks on his door, a pair of too-flamboyant boots buried in the back of his closet, and insecurity issues the size of a mammoth. Louis changes some of that, but Harry changes the most.

drain the whole sea by brainwaves

For a great chunk of his life, Harry has had a passion for writing, a passion that turned into an aspiration, which turned into a dream he’s been chasing for the past few years, first in the States and now in a shitty flat in London. None of his attempts to get anywhere have succeeded, leaving him with weary bones and two dead-end jobs that he doesn’t enjoy in the slightest. When he finds an unusual yet promising opportunity that could possibly get him somewhere and help him further his current failure of a writing career, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. Despite his boyfriend Sam’s pleading, he lets this dream bring him to the luxurious yet quaint home of world-renowned, best-selling author Louis Tomlinson.

love is blind (it will take over your mind) by babygrxxt

a story in which louis moved to paris to get away and is now working a nine to five job he hates, niall can’t speak french, zayn is so far gone for a boy he doesn’t even know and the pink of harry’s lips stands out even more against the purple of a bruise

Stop Making Tired Excuses by midnightskies

Louis hates many things; cold tea, countdown, tuesdays, and university, but most of all he absolutely, categorically despises Eric Davidson, current boyfriend of Harry Styles.

Keep Me From Falling Apart by sweetly_disposed

Harry shrugs, nicking a biscuit from the tin on the table. "Here." He holds out the styrofoam cup he's carrying. "Hot chocolate, double whipped cream." "Oh my god. You're perfect," Louis moans, taking it from him and sniffing it appreciatively. Harry blushes and stuffs the rest of the biscuit in his mouth to stop him from saying something totally ridiculous like 'you're perfect, too'.

Or, Harry doesn't think he needs help, until there's Louis.

Blue Eyes Like Blue Skies by sunflowerstyles

Harry's last relationship was horrific, leaving him with physical and mental scars. Louis comes into his life and does his best to treat Harry how he deserves.

#abuse tw #abuse cw #ask lots #suicide tw #suicide cw #Larry Stylinson #Lottie fic rec #I hate that intro I hate bringing myself up in a rec but I felt I had to say it #<3

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

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I’m the tin foil hat anon and I wanted to thank you for the response on my bb submission, you make great points. Although I was frustrated that some of them raised even more questions I didn’t think of myself… UGH… lol the S2 wait is gonna be painful

On the point of crosshair thinking his chip was removed a looong time ago(meaning before bracca or even as early as ep1) it wouldn’t make sense bc of his response to Hunter’s “you tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice”. He says “and I did?”. So he seems to be aware he couldn’t control himself in all their previous encounters. Does it mean he knows his actions were due to chip then?

And you say crosshair avoiding the “when” question can be due to him not caring if the horrible actions he committed are chip or himself and it’s meant to show that he truly is despicable and evil. It could be the case because he shows absolutely no remorse or regret over slaughtering civilians, never apologizes to his brothers for not only trying to kill them but almost successfully incinerating(!!!) them. On top of that (apparently) without a chip he casually murders his own squad without a blink of an eye right in front of them.

On the other hand, he shows care for Omega’s safety in that episode and wants a better place in the universe for his brothers(even if it’s obviously a mistake). He sounds hurt and betrayed by them yet he still wants what he thinks is best for them. He seemed genuine and sincere in that moment. Even after they refused to join he protected them against the droids. He had multiple opportunities to shoot Hunter or others in the back but never did(and looked like didn’t even consider it). BUT after all of that he decides to raise his gun and try to shoot hunter who already has his gun drawn?! And in front of the whole squad holding him at gun point!!! WTF was he thinking?! WHY? I know they rejected his offer but still. Did his reveal completely change his plans? I just don’t understand. I know he is meant to be “complex and nuanced character with layers” but what a mood swing lmao

As much as I loved and enjoyed the bad batch overall I’m beginning to think that all these inconsistencies aren’t meant to be a crafty set up for next season. What they most likely are is just writers being vague on purpose so they don’t write themselves into a corner.

And as to why the batch and Omega didn’t even try to rescue their brother could just be so that Hunter and Crosshair would have this drama and disagreement at the end. Despite brad rau claiming their argument was over ideological differences. And Jen Corbett saying in that same cursed interview that the batch always love and support each other no matter what because they’re family. Well, I guess not crosshair, he doesn’t count anymore lol

And I agree with you I’d rather see the batch acknowledging they could have done more to try and rescue him than go into the chip details. However, I have a suspicion the real reason or explanation on why they never went back for him isn’t going to be brought up ever. Even *in universe* it simply does not make sense. Just makes me sad seeing how many people also try to come up with explanations. That should have been the writers job to provide something besides Hunter’s “you tried to kill us” bc that’s a weak argument and a total bs since he was SHOCKED to learn crosshair doesn’t have a chip.

Btw sorry for the long posts lol I just found your takes very intriguing

The season two wait is something awful and I only just started it lol. No worries about long asks though! My blog has become quite meta heavy over the years, so this is normal for my inbox. Besides, it’s a bit of a pot and kettle situation. It's not like my answers are particularly concise :D

Okay first, I have the unpopular (?) opinion that Crosshair was never planning to shoot Hunter, partly for the reasons you lay out here. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense, and rather than just accepting that he had that kind of “mood swing" (which would be pretty bad writing based on everything else we've seen) I think it does make sense that this was never his intention at all. Rather, it’s just a setup to make the audience think he’s about to shoot Hunter—that’s the obvious goal of that moment: the shock, drama, confusion, and then relief—but that doesn’t mean that in-universe that was ever Crosshair’s goal, even for just a split second. Omega leaves the pod. Echo, crucially, says that he can’t see her, setting up that Crosshair with his enhanced sight is probably the only one who could. He grabs his rifle off screen and as he does, Hunter leans over the side of the pod as he prepares to jump in, precisely where Crosshair needs to aim to hit Omega. Hunter is in his way. He’s directly in the line of fire, not because Crosshair is aiming for him, but just because that's where Omega is and they're both aiming for her: Crosshair with his rifle, Hunter ready to dive. The little shift Crosshair makes reads to me as him ensuring he doesn’t hit Hunter, despite him being right where he needs to aim, not him full on changing targets.

Even if we choose to read it as him deliberately aiming at Hunter—because yeah, the scene is meant to be ambiguous—I don’t think he, like, meant it meant it. Crosshair, as we’ve seen throughout TBB and TCW, can be pretty antagonistic. He likes to do things to get a rise out of people, like staring at regs until they snap at him, or pushing Rex’s buttons until he swings. If he was choosing to aim at Hunter in that moment, rather than Hunter just being in the way, I think it’s only bravado. Remember the “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t make me your enemy” line? Crosshair has a need to remind others of his skill and power—whether it’s playfully like in TCW, or more seriously in TBB—and that’s likely what this is here. “Hey, Hunter. Look. I got my weapon back. I’ve got you cornered. I’m about to save our sister when you can’t. Remember that I’m good and you need me.” Those feelings of abandonment are tied up in that need to be needed, so when Crosshair is seething at being left behind, brutally showing them how he can get a drop on their leader and doing the thing they can't (save Omega) is a great way to remind them of what they threw away/re-boost his own self-esteem. But none of that means shooting Hunter was ever a real possibility. Because nowhere else do we see Crosshair willingly trying to harm his team. He does while under the chip’s influence, but then he never hurts Hunter when he’s captured. He kills his new team before they can hurt the batch. He helps them fight off the droids. There’s a tussle, but it’s not choreographed like either he or Hunter truly intends harm. Crosshair demonstrates no aggression during the entire escape, willingly gives up his weapon after saving Omega, and just stands there as they leave. If this guy actually wanted to hurt them, he would. Which is more likely, that Crosshair had a split second of real murder intent across two episodes of doing everything possible to help his team, or that this was just a mean bluff?

But personally, I don’t even think it was a bluff. I think the coincidence of Crosshair needing to aim there and Hunter already being there is just meant to imply an attack for the audience, not imply that Crosshair, in-universe, ever intended to hurt him, even for just a second. If he had, he wouldn’t look so surprised and sad when he realizes the others are pointing their weapons at him. If he was out to shoot Hunter, even if only for a moment, seeing his brothers come to his defense would be expected; a given. But if he only ever intended to save Omega, then seeing their weapons trained on him would produce the emotions we saw: shock that they’d turn on him and then severe disappointment. From Crosshair’s perspective, he didn’t do anything wrong and never intended to do wrong either. Hence, looking away in disbelief that his need to aim through Hunter was taken as a serious threat. He's realizing that they honestly believe that he would hurt them. Not the chipped version of him, but just him, all on his own.

As for the rest of his characterization, I think your point that “You tried to kill us” is a weak argument is pretty important. Meaning, Crosshair knows he didn’t attack his team and nearly kill them, the Empire controlling him like a puppet did. He (arguably) doesn’t owe them an apology for something that he was as much a victim for. However, we usually expect one anyway—like Wrecker still apologizing to Omega—because that's how people who have hurt loved ones react, whether the hurt was intentional or not, but that guilt is currently overshadowed by his fury that they left him behind. For him I think it’s a bit of a circular problem. Yes, he nearly killed them… but he wouldn’t have nearly killed them if they’d come back and rescued him. With the obvious disclaimer that the Empire is the real evil here, Crosshair as a threat is a bit of a problem of the batch's own making. If they’d done the right thing and gotten him out, there wouldn’t have been these scary moments like the engine incident. If they’d at least tried, then Crosshair likely would have been more guilt-ridden because he hurt his brothers who were trying to help him. As it stands, he tried to hurt the people who claim they're his brothers, but who left him behind. That's why he presents this second chance as magnanimous: from Crosshair's perspective, they haven't done anything to earn his care, but they're getting it anyway. An apology though? That's pushing things too far. If when Wrecker turned the group had locked him somewhere in the ship and gone off planet, leaving him there under the justification “Well, he tried to kill us!" would Wrecker still return with apologies for his actions... or would he be primarily pissed at being left like that, withholding apologies because they did him harm intentionally, whereas he did harm under another's control? I mean, maybe he'd be forgiving (the huge difference between his and Crosshair’s personalities is another factor), but also maybe not. Having Crosshair apologize for the near-death experiences requires 1. For him to feel responsibility for something that was forced on him and 2. For him to not be absolutely furious at the batch for abandoning him. They've gotta work through that before Crosshair can acknowledge that guilt.

Killing his second team on the other hand… idk if the batch cares, honestly. It was the killing of civilians that they balked at, not other fighters like themselves. Even the Jedis’ execution, something they clearly didn’t like, wasn’t enough to turn them from the Empire, presumably because the Jedi are capable of defending themselves. They fell in battle. It’s only when the Empire asks them to kill kids and untrained civilians that they go, “Absolutely not. This organization is evil.” Murder of other fighters was, you know, not great, but not worth defecting over either. Crosshair’s second team is made up of fighters who have been trying to kill them, so they’re definitely fair game. If we removed Crosshair’s plan from the situation and the batch was just fighting their way off Kamino after a capture, would they have also killed the team without a blink of an eye? Probably. It's self-defense. The second they raised their blasters it became a battle and, unless you’re specifically out to stun someone for some reason, battles end bloody. The shock is which side Crosshair was on, not that one side was willing to murder the other. It’s definitely messed up from our perspective that Crosshair laid a trap to murder his team to prove a point… but from the batch’s perspective? Crosshair killed a bunch of imperial fighters who were threatening them during a battle. That’s just an average Tuesday for them, nothing much to get upset over.

And omg don’t get me started on Crosshair wanting to find Omega a family! Like yeah, it’s obviously a #mistake and his faith in the Empire is Super Messed Up but... the underlying motivation is so good. It’s another situation where there’s no easy answer. Which is more important: Omega’s emotional health where she grows up with clones like her, the people who are now 100% her family, or her physical health, where she stays some place where she’s not always getting shot at, kidnapped, at risk of going hungry, etc.? It’s easy as the audience to go, “Of course she belongs with her dads!!” but if you choose to read the story through any realistic lens, Crosshair absolutely has a point about this being terrible environment for a kid, the exact point the batch themselves were making until Omega begged to stay. I love my feral, compassionate child but let me tell you, I YELLED when she yeeted herself out of that pod. This is a traumatized, formerly isolated kid with absolutely zero self-preservation, combined with, at times, a lack of basic common sense that’s inevitable in children (like not realizing she can’t pull a very heavy droid up through the water). As emotionally gutting as the thought is and, in this particular case, a Very Bad Idea, I really can’t fault anyone for raising the possibility that she go somewhere else, somewhere she’s likely to survive into her teens 😅

#TBB #The Bad Batch #SW #Star Wars #mymetas

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

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What are your favourite comics anyway?

Oh! Oh! Oh! Okay. Full disclaimer. We’re going for what comics I re-read over and over again. Are these comics...good? Eh. Are they bad? No, I don’t think so. Some were meh to wow! when first released that time has either been kinder or harsher to, but I don’t think I have a series or a run or a title which is I like which is like... hot guilty garbage. Though, of course, feel free to disagree. There are some authors on here which people will not want to touch with a barge pole, and I totally understand and encourage not touching them if you don’t want to.

Having said that, here are my favourite popcorn comics (largely Titans and Batfam because I am... basic):

The Flash (2016) issues 39-45 + Annual #1

Having said that, Flash time first. People think Williamson is a real hit or miss writer and I do agree, but I think this whole arc is one big hit. It’s frantic in its energy, I love Gorilla Grodd as a villain, I love the modern Flashfam trying to help, I love how Wally coming in to help totally turns the tide and the mood. I love how everyone looks at Wally like… this guys is powerful, more powerful than any other speedster… but also noting there’s something very fragile about him. I didn’t include Flash War in this because I’m still waiting for the payoff for that angst regarding Wally, but this arc… mwah. Wallace Rudolph West being vindicated as the greatest Flash (whilst allowing Barry to be flawed and to lead his family)? Yes please. Also I love Carmine’s art. I gather it’s hit and miss for some folk but I love the line work. Also Carlos D’Anda’s issue (come baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack draw Dick and Roy again your work has gotten so much cuter this past decade) is a beauty too. Big ol’ eyes.

(Under the cut ‘cause this is LONG)

Batman Dark Victory

One of two Loeb stories for me. And yeah sure Long Halloween is objectively better but…jelly bean

Also, angry traumatised Dick smacking a dying man with a stick. What a legend.

Gates of Gotham

Cass! Damian! Dick!Bats! Tim! A mystery villain! World building for Gotham! Stuff exploding! Batfam banter! Trevor McCarthy art! This bizarre panel of Jim Gordon holding Tim’s hand like he’s checking the time?

It’s one of the last ‘pure’ Batman stories before the reboot – Bat Inc aside – so it’s how I like to read the Batfam’s relationship by the end of that universe. Everyone’s a lot more content, proud Dad Bruce, happy and settled Dick and Damian, Cassandra returning home, Tim chopping off the emo hair… it’s all good.

Grayson (particularly #5)

I know why people can’t stand it. The circumstances leading up to it are bog awful. Opinions on Tom King’s writing has only grown more spliced with time. The (sex) jokes are too on the nose and hit too close to home for many. The cheesecake art is too stilted for some. But! Issue #5 is my favourite single issue story. Ever. You never have thought boxes in this series, because everyone is lying, but you aren’t told when. You never know how genuine Dick is being at any given moment, until it is just him and the baby. I love how single-minded it allows him to be. I love how he flat out lies and manipulates to protect that little girl, whilst also caring for Helena. About how seriously he takes his job of protecting Bruce and his family (and that’s why he’s even doing the stupid spy thing in the first place). And maaaaybe it’s unrealistic that Dick could outlast Midnighter crossing the desert, but screw it. Bruce can be better than metahumans all the time. Let Dick get an issue to be so to. Saving a little girl who is probably going to grow up to be akin to Superwoman. Just because he’s given himself that responsibility. He’s going to double cross twenty groups at the same time and come out clean as a whistle. And he’ll cross a desert with a newborn to do it.

Light of my fricking life.

Infinite Crisis

I…I like that things go boom. John’s is very good for that. Also, the Nightwing and Batman moments howowheheheheheheeeeeeee. Almost wish Bruce had shot Alexander. I wonder what would have happened?

(Brief side note: Graphic Audio’s adaptation of this is great fun. I dropped a bowl of cereal at the part of Superboy Prime versus the Titans. Cassie’s scream when Pantha’s head got punched off was a bit…intense. The No Man’s Land one is very good too if you have cash to burn - the voice actors are the same in both and Nightwing’s voice actor has this lisp and I don’t know man... I love it. He’s now the voice in my head for Dick).

Titans/JLA and The Titans (1999) issues 1-25

The Titans are now known I think for not being a very proactive hero group. Books struggle with balancing team dynamics versus plot, and this one is no exception. I know people don’t want to touch Devin Grayson’s stuff with a barge pole. My justification for this is flimsy I accept that, however, the JLA/Titans comic was the very first comic I read when I was like six or seven. I was rummaging through my brother’s room as a nosy kid does and this was at the top of his pile. Thank god for the little info boxes as each Titan was captured/referenced. I fell in love with Kory, I fell in love with Dick, I fell in love with Donna (oh Donna…) and then I tumbled down a hole and pretended I hadn’t until about six years ago. So that’s nice. So yes, this one is one hundred percent nostalgia based.

But honestly, Linkara did a retrospective on this event comic and series years ago, and his reasons for loving it are the same as mine really, so go watch those if you have like five hours to kill. When Devin leaves the comic remains strong for just a moment then... absolutely plummets off a cliff. So I really wouldn’t bother with the second half of the series but hey. You do you.

Teen Titans/Outsiders: The Insiders

More Geoff John’s explosions. My first comic that got bought for me. My brother walked in to the shop and said: “I need a comic for my sister where Starfire gets a good showing” and the men went… ah yes.

Eleven-year old me was like EXPLOSIONSSSSS but also was intrigued by Kory and Dick’s bedtime convos (perhaps…I was a bit under the age bracket for this book - Kory gets a good showing huh?) but uh. Anyway. Also this is when I was thoroughly enamoured with Roy. This crossover is typical Winnick and John’s angsty angst with overly poetic narration and tropey tropes which, combined with what came before and what was to come for the Outsiders, can make both series such a slog to get through, but in isolation, I think it’s a real fun crossover which gave everyone a bit of time to shine and some real fan-ficcy moments (very self-indulgent, and I love that in a comic).

Teen Titans: Year One

I love Amy Wolfram and I love Karl Kerschel. It’s a good intro to those five characters with cute stories. Does exactly what it says on the tin. Batman is demonstrably a major prick in this, even after de-brainwashing, so it’s obviously going with the ‘Dick is only half as functioning as he is thanks to Roy, Wally, Garth and Donna’, which I can get behind 100% depending on what story they are trying to tell, but it’s just… it’s still sad to read. I just think the art is brilliant at giving each of the five very clear characteristics just from their body language, and you know immediately what each character dynamic is like with another.

Batman Hush

The other Loeb story. Again, it has what I like in a Batman story. A mystery, the family, appearances of villains, flashbacks and brooding, fighting, Jim Lee’s Nightwing being hunky… Ahem. It’s a fun read I think. Also, I really like Loeb’s Bruce? I don’t think people talk about it much. But he’s really chatty in his own head. And he’s witty and dry and funny. I like that! Also, Babs is such a backbone of this story. I adore that. She’s treated well here, I think.

Black Mirror

I flipping love this arc. I love it. I love the two contrasting but deeply disturbing in different manner art styles, I love the mystery, I love Babs role in the story, I love Tim’s little appearances and the banter with Dick, I love the weird villains and the terrifying ones, and how you think one is one of the two only to be revealed to be the other or both. I love Dick’s investigation and how he goes about it differently to Bruce. I love Dick’s relationship with Jim, I love the flipping reference to the vultures and owls seemingly following Dick (a whole reboot before Snyder got to tell that story), I love the monologue about how James thinks Dick is weird and weak for his compassion and love, when really that’s his greatest strength, I love Jim wanting so hard to believe James is trying against Babs’s cynicism, but also does try to get an unbiased opinion of someone who is proven good at reading people (Dick) and does what he needs to when his son is actively harming people, I love that ambiguous ending and the questionable science, I even love the Joker’s one (1) scene with Dick. I love this line,

I love Snyder at his best. When he’s good…mwah. Great.

…And yeah. That’s my story.

#dc #dick grayson #bruce wayne #wally west #koriand'r #roy harper #batfam #the titans #the fab five #I love talking about things I like I'm sorry this is so long!#ask and I'll babble #Anonymous

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theres-a-goldensky · 4 years

Text

26 + 2 Various BL Series Fic Recs

Fandoms included in this fic rec list: Love By Chance, TharnType, Until We Meet Again, My Engineer, 2 Moons, HIStory3: Trapped (plus a bit of bonus Theory of Love and WHY R U?)

I’ve found a handful of good fics for all of these tiny pairings that I am newly obsessed with, and I thought I’d share them with you if you’re also looking for something good to read. Please, if you have recs of your own, point me in the direction of any other good stuff!

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie

Good Omens - Aziraphale/Crowley

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

(All recs are complete) (I’ve noted pairings, length, and rating, but not any warnings or additional tags.)

** denotes personal favorite

LOVE BY CHANCE / THARNTYPE

1. the count up series by sweetiejelly - Tin/Can - ~34,000 words, explicit - A fix-it fic post-canon where Tin and Can slowly work out their issues with some missteps and learning along the way.

So two weeks later, when Can first does it, Tin doesn't know what to do. For the longest while, he just turns off his phone screen. And then turns it back on.

good night, tin. it's been a while but i promised to say good night. so, good night, sleep well.

Every damn time the text is still there.

In the end, Tin deletes it.

The next morning, Can does it again.

good morning, tin. looks like rain today. don't forget your umbrella.

Tin deletes it.

The texts keep coming.

2. ** LBC Aftermath series by Mara - LBC/TharnType crossover- ~6700 words, mature - Were you too horrified by Techno’s ending in LBC? This author feels your pain and did her part to get some justice for Techno. This fic has zero sympathy for Kengkla, which I deeply appreciated. This will help you work out some of your anger. It features LBC!Techno and the TharnType versions of Tharn and Type. Mind the warnings, since this deals with the serious consequences of Kengkla’s actions.

Kengkla stayed at the house through the morning and Techno was so jumpy he nearly leaped out of his skin every time Kla looked at him or talked to him. Even though Kla had explained what happened and how he wasn’t upset to be dating, Techno still felt weird. He kind of wished he remembered what had happened. A guy should remember how he lost his virginity, right?

Kla grabbed him in a big hug and Techno froze, managing a weak grin when Kla pulled back to smile at him. “I’ve got to go home now. But I’ll call you later. Let me know if you go somewhere.”

“O-okay.” Techno stared as the boy let himself out the front door.

3. 5 + 1 by strokeofluck - Tin/Can- ~3600 words, rated general - This is a sweet story about the times when Pete sees Tin having feelings for Can.

Pete weighed his options as he glanced back and forth between Tin and Can. Can didn’t seem to be bothered by the whole thing, he even had a shy smile on his face. Or at least, Pete thought it was a shy smile, he had never really seen this kind of expression coming from Can before.

He could let this whole thing go, he supposed, but he didn’t really want to. It was time for him to finally say to Tin: I told you so.

“You were born in Bangkok,” he said, casting a wide net and hoping Can would find himself caught in it.

Can did.

4. That Testified Surprise by Mara - Techno/Tharn/Type - ~7000 words, mature - This is a LBC canon rewrite that stars the TharnType version of all three characters. Type realizes something is not...quite...right with Kengkla and invites Techno to stay with him and Tharn instead of going home drunk.

Pouring Techno into the passenger seat, Type sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled the phone out to check it, entering the passcode. (The passcode was the birthday of Thai national football team captain Siwarak Tedsungnoen, of course. Duh.)

Fuck, it looked like Nic had been either texting or calling every 20 minutes since they got to the bar. What was up there?

Scrolling back through the evening’s texts, Type scowled harder. Loving brother or not, this was fucking creepy. Going back farther, it looked like it was a pattern. Did the kid do anything other than pester his brother about his whereabouts?

THARNTYPE

5. everything he wants by minkit - ~5100 words, explicit - Type accidentally ruins one of Tharn’s shirts and agrees to do whatever Tharn wants to make up for it. Which means it’s porn stretched over the bare bones of a plot, and it’s great.

Tharn’s hands moved across the bed, slowly, inch by inch and it was frustrating because Type knew they were heading to him, but Tharn took his sweet time. And then they were covering his hands and Tharn’s face was mere centimeters from his and Type could barely breathe. It took everything he had not to lean forward and capture those lips that also belonged to him, but he had a feeling if he tried, Tharn wouldn’t let him. He had that look on his face and Type knew what it meant.

He knew he was in for a long rest of the night.

6. You’ve Got Mail by perthbysaint - ~7800 words, explicit - Type sends Tharn nudes at the most inconvenient times.

A selfie? From Type? Tharn was thanking all of his lucky stars as he happily taps to load the image. The picture loads and Tharn’s phone slips from his suddenly lax grip. Convinced he couldn’t have just seen what he thought he just saw, he picks his phone up hastily and stares very intently at the picture.

It’s a mirror selfie, obviously taken in a changing room, but that thought comes secondary to thighs. Type is holding the camera in front of his face to take the picture, shirt clenched in his other hand and pulled up slightly to show off the shorts. The fucking shorts. He had seen Type in his soccer gear before and yes, Type has most definitely asked for the wrong size and Tharn is more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his whole life. The shorts are riding up so high they can’t cover more than a few inches of skin, Type’s smooth, powerful thighs on full display. On the inside of his left thigh, there’s a tiny purple mark peeking out from under the bottom of the shorts. Tharn knows exactly what it is because he was the one who left it there just two days ago when he sucked marks into Type’s thighs for a half-hour before he slung Type’s legs over his shoulders and ate him out until Type was sobbing fat tears and begging Tharn to let him come.

7. pet names series by LokelaniRose - ~50,000 words, explicit - A series of post-episode fics that gives us the sex that the show only hinted at, starting with the shower scene.

Tharn prides himself on his self-control. All his passion and intensity is saved for his music, when he’s safely behind a drum kit and can let it all out. He’s never been as irritated by anyone else as he is by Type and all his playground bullying nonsense. Something about the other boy just shakes something loose inside him, rattles at Tharn’s iron discipline until he has to grit his teeth constantly not to just – what? Kiss him? Kill him? Tharn has enough composure (and pride) to put up a front that’s all smiles and wry amusement, but really he regularly skips between one of two daydreams – twisting Type’s head off or fucking him into the ground.

(Tharn is absolutely not going to admit to the third set of daydreams, of curling up around Type when he’s cold or cheering him on at matches or bringing him home to meet Tharn’s father. Nope, no, definitely not.)

2MOONS SERIES

8. ** The universe where we do not commit reckless, unlubricated buttsex by startledoctopus - Forth/Beam - ~8700 words, explicit - This is a great story about Beam giving in and trying to seduce Forth the same way he seduced all of those girls in his past. This Forth is great, and the story retcons their first time to something far more pleasant for Beam.

"We're heading into a unit on disorders of the spine and I need to review my basic skeletal and muscular anatomy. But it feels stupid to keep studying these weird-looking diagrams and drawings." None of this was, strictly speaking, factual, but an engineering major wouldn't know any different. Beam gathered up all his bravado, walked behind Forth, and began rucking up his shirts as if this were completely normal.

"What! I..."

"Shut up, I need to look at a real back so I know what I'll be looking at as a doctor." Forth let him take the shirts off, glancing back at him several times but giving in meekly to Beam's stern look. Forth shuffled the papers some more.

"All right. Okay, um...Ah!" Beam smirked at Forth's reaction as he ran his thumbs down the nape of his neck.

9. Good Things Come To by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~4300 words, explicit - Kit gets drunk and reveals more of his feelings for Ming than he probably means to.

"Hmm." Kit closes his eyes and leans his head back on the headrest. "Ming, Ming, Ming. Do you know your name's a kiss? I'm kissing the air everytime I say 'Ming'!" Kit pops his mouth and it pops Ming's mind a bit. "And then I think about kissing you. Why do you make me think about you so damn much? You're so annoying, Ming. No one's ever..." and Kit leans to the side, almost like he's going to conk out or throw up, only to straighten back up. "... made me this crazy."

Oh shit. Ming doesn't know what to do with all of this information. He knew somewhere deep down that Kit likes him. Kit's eyes can't lie. Kit's mouth can't either, the cusses coming out whenever he's keyed up and flustered, and then there are his kisses.

10 + 11. ** how to fail flirt your way into his heart (a guide by Kit) and a little conversation (and a little action please) by sweetiejelly - Ming/Kit - ~30,000 words, explicit in the second part - This story makes a tiny plot divergence. It has Kit put a little more effort into finding out if Ming is really into Yo and then from there, it loosely follows the plot of the show with some key differences. I really enjoyed this.

"Can I have your number?" Kit mentally face-palms. Why? Damn Pha. Damn Beam. Just damn everything, ugh. He has never flirted in his life. Pin asked him out, okay? He doesn't know how to do this. "I'm Kit, Phana's friend," he says, trying to make it less weird.

"I'm Ming. And of course, P'Kit!" Ming flashes him an easy grin and holds out his hand.

Oh right, the phone. Kit shoves it at Ming, nearly hitting him in the chest. Great, he's acing this.

Ming smiles at him, bemused or confused, probably both, and brushes his hand, totally unnecessarily, over the back of Kit's hand as he takes the phone. "In case of emergency, right?" Ming looks up at him from under his lashes and boy, this nong is brazen.

12. ** In Control series by LokelaniRose - Ming/Kit - ~27,000 words, explicit - Kit struggles to tell Ming that he wants something other than the careful, gentle sex they’ve been having. Ming discovers that Kit has some anxiety and panic problems. He also discovers what helps him feel better. [spoilers: these two things are connected.] I love how attentive and caring Ming is throughout this series. The anxious Kit also rings true to the character we saw on the show.

But now that Kit is fretting over things, he might as well fret over this as well. So Ming is great in bed. And let’s be honest, Kit probably isn’t. He hasn’t had a hundred previous partners – okay, tiny exaggeration, but still – and doesn’t know all the fancy moves and techniques and tricks…and just like everything else, in bed Ming is somehow casual and sincere at the same time. He never seems to want anything except what Kit wants, is always happy to do whatever, to take his time making slow, gentle love to Kit. Kit knows that he always comes at least – he secretly really likes it when Ming comes, he’s not quite sure why – but what if there’s more that Kit could be doing, to make it better for him? If Kit was better in bed maybe it would make up for being a shitty boyfriend in other areas, one who can’t be nice in public or talk about his feelings.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

13. another nightmare fic by itsmylifekay - Win/Team - ~2300 words, not rated - Team tries to sleep without Win and it doesn’t go well.

Team’s room feels suffocating, the air too thick and the space too dark and the covers sticking to his skin with sweat. His breaths are too loud in the quiet, but the quiet itself is deafening. It reminds him of the water. The muted sounds. The frantic pounding of his heart. (The same one he feels now echoed in his chest.)

Flashes of the dream come back to him unbidden.

Everything is too dark, too bright, no way to see what way is up or what way is down. He’s trapped. Can’t get out. Can’t breathe.

14. ** Different With You by blackrose9212 - Win/Team - ~6900 words, teen - It’s open swim week, which means that the swimming club offers free lessons to any of the students who would like to participate. Team doesn’t understand why his teammates hate it so much - until he does. Great jealousy in this one from both sides.

“Nice to meet you,” the boy gushes. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to join your group. Auntie said there needs to be at least three people, and no one was sitting across from you two. I’ve been paying attention so I already have ideas. Is that okay?” Team watches as he pulls out his books and drops them onto the table, pushing them a little farther out so they’re nearly touching Win’s notebook.

Team shrugs. “Sure, that’s fine. I don’t think Win has been paying attention so I’m glad you have an idea of what’s going on.”

Win hits him lightly at the back of the hand and Film giggles behind his hand. “Oh, no, P’Win looks very smart. I’m sure he’s been listening.” He looks at Win and smiles a little, blushing when Win gives him a smile back.

Team looks between the two of them. Then back at Film, who’s watching Win leaf through his literature textbook like he’s never seen anything so beautiful, and then past Film at the table he left from, where he sees three boys, laughing behind their hands and making cooing faces.

15. seven hundred thirteen by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~6800 words, mature - Win spends two years abroad in England, and he and Team have to navigate a long distance relationship. It’s very sweet and written very true to life.

“I kind of hoped you were going to show up at the airport tomorrow morning and chase the plane,” Win says. He kisses Team’s hair, lingering there to memorize the fresh, clear scent.

Team says, “Is it weird that I thought about doing that?” and Win feels him smile against his shoulder.

It’s late, nearly nine thirty, and Win had plans of how to spend tonight that can’t be realized anymore. He wanted to invite Team to dinner with his family. He wanted to play video games with Team and View. He wanted to talk about London with Waan and Team. He wanted to include Team in his family’s warmth in some small way, to make him feel less lonely.

He can’t do any of that now but he still wants to sneak Team upstairs and have him in his arms all night. He wouldn’t, but he wants to. It’s been a month since he moved off campus permanently, and weeks since he was last able to spend a night alone with Team.

16. ** You Can Cry by Kiranokira - Win/Team - ~19,600 words, mature - Win goes missing while on vacation with some friends. Team is left at home trying to handle it. I like the way the author built up to the accident happening. They did a good job creating tension and showing us exactly how Team felt about Win. And spoilers, this story has a happy ending.

“You’re going to fail out of university,” Team tells him. “You’re not really going, are you?”

Win rolls onto his side and perches his cheek on his hand. “What if I say yes?” he asks. “Will you miss me?”

Team’s warning look is more venomous than usual. “Not at all,” Team says, and Win smirks because that isn’t true and they both know it. “You still shouldn’t go. What if you miss the flight back? You’ll fail out and I’ll break up with you for being a dumbass.”

The very recent phenomenon of Team acknowledging that they’re a couple has its usual melting effect on Win’s heart.

2GETHER

17. ** Love Songs on Our Skin series by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~15,700 words, explicit - A soulmark AU where Tine is born with the notes to a song that hasn’t yet been written wrapped around his chest. I enjoyed how Tine’s obliviousness in the show carries over to this fic.

Only Mr. Chic would have a song no one had ever fucking heard of permanently etched on his chest. For fuck's sake .

Still, he waves it off, and he tries not to look too closely at other people's marks. Tries being the key word. He doesn't envy the elegant watercolors of a guitar pick and an open novel he catches sight of on the wrists of some couple's interlinked hands when he's in town. And he certainly doesn't envy the dude he once saw in a coffee shop with the words " I hate you " scrawled across the back of his neck. But yeah, okay, he might be a little jealous of the people who are lucky enough to have something as simple as their soulmate's name on their skin. That definitely isn't fair.

"Why couldn't it at least have been a Scrubb song?" he asks the mirror as he wipes it clear shower-born condensation. The mirror and him are well acquainted with this conversation by now. In fact, the mirror sees the stupid mark more than anyone, so it might as well put up with his equally stupid questions. "It could have been 'Together.' Just think of it, how romantic it would be to meet some cute girl's eyes after bumping into them at a concert, my favorite song playing . . ." He draws a nail over the winding bars of the music on his chest, frowning. "That would be so much easier."

18. Drown Your Sorrows by HyacinthsSoul - 2gether/Theory of Love - Sarawat and Third meet at a bar and bond over being in love with oblivious men.

“No, he’s an angel,” Sarawat says. “Unfortunately he’s a very stupid, very straight angel.”

“Mine’s stupid too,” the other man admits. “But definitely no angel. I’m Third, by the way,” he adds, offering a slender hand to shake.

“Sarawat,” says Sarawat. “Can I buy you another? I think we’re drinking the same thing, although I can’t remember what it’s called.”

20. ** Your Body Is My Instrument by Kari_Kurofai - Sarawat/Tine - ~12,000 words, explicit - This fic does a good job doing what, in this reccer’s humble opinion, the series failed to: showing Tine attracted to Sarawat. There’s great first time sex and some fun sexual tension. Plus, we get to see them switch off, which is extremely rare in BL. And most importantly: hand kink.

It starts innocently enough. Or, well, innocently enough for a guy whose first words to him were, “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll kiss you till you drop.” So, you know. It starts kinda like that.

They’ve been officially dating for a grand sum total of three days and altogether not that much has changed. Except that Sarawat touches him more now. Normally this would be fine, no big deal, right? But Sarawat has magic, evil hands, and apparently all he has to do is glance Tine’s way to deduce the exact right places and ways to touch Tine to drive him up the fucking wall.

And the worst part is it’s almost never the same place or the same way twice, and the only warning Tine ever gets is that sneaky little glint Sarawat gets in his eyes just before he does it, the bastard.

MY ENGINEER

21. Cool Boy(friend) by HyacinthsSoul - Ram/King - ~22,000 words, explicit - So this is technically a WIP, but each chapter feels like a completed fic without a cliffhanger or anything. This is a very sweet, comfortable story about King and Ram getting to know each other as their relationship develops.

In the selfie King sends, he’s holding up a full shot glass while someone’s arm reaches into the frame to hand him another kind of drink, something tall with a straw and a paper umbrella. Ram frowns. Whose arm is that? The person is wearing a red long-sleeved shirt, which doesn’t match what any of their friend group was wearing, and the engineer bar doesn’t offer table service.

Frowning, Ram looks back through the previous photos until he spots a detail he’d overlooked before: a red-shirted man at a neighboring table. He’s visible in the background of two or three pictures taken by Tee, and in each of them he’s staring intently at King.

Not that it’s any of Ram’s business. Not that he cares.

HISTORY3: TRAPPED

22. it’s too late (to turn back now) by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~7200 words, general audiences - Canon divergence fic where Tang Yi pushes Shao Fei away after he saves Hong Ye in order to try and protect him. Shao Fei reacts to that about as well as you’d expect.

“Tang Yi, what do you mean-“

“I think you’ve fooled around for long enough,” Tang Yi interrupts, his voice cold, nothing like the man who had dabbed at his lips with a cotton bud last night, the man who had smiled at him when he made the cannon joke.

“You’ve disrupted my life, and the life of my family and friends in the past few weeks, Meng Shao Fei. This has gone for long enough,” he continues, unwavering. “I don’t want to have anything more to do with you. Take a good rest here in the hospital, and I’ll get someone to pack up your things back at the house. Jack will deliver it back to your apartment.”

23 + 24. ** just waiting, waiting (on you) and between you and me by stebeee - Tang Yi/Meng Shao Fei - ~16,000 words, general audiences - These are stories about how Shao Fei and the rest of the gang deal over the years when Tang Yi is in jail. Found family fics are my jam, so I loved this.

The thing is, it’s been almost three months of this. 90 days, give or take. 2,160 hours. 129,600 minutes. And more than 7 million seconds of this — not having Tang Yi at his side.

Shao Fei wonders for a moment if he will ever stop seeing Tang Yi in every corner of the house. When he comes down the stairs in the morning, some part of him expects to see Tang Yi standing at the kitchen island with a bright smile, asking him if he wants jam with his toast that morning. Shao Fei sees Tang Yi in that apron he loves, cooking at the stove when he fixes himself dinner, alone in the spacious kitchen. Seeing Tang Yi’s favourite blue bathrobe, Shao Fei can almost see Tang Yi leaving the bathroom, his hair all wet and falling over his eyes.

25. amuse bouche by sarahyyy - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~2400 words, general audiences - This is more of Jack seducing Zhao Zi through food and attention. So basically an extension of the show. Mother hen Jack is the cutest.

“Jack?” Zhao Zi murmurs blearily. “Why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” Jack shoots back, herding Zhao Zi back into the house. He checks for Zhao Zi’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Fever?”

“Just the flu for now, I think?” Zhao Zi says.

Jack purses his lips. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“I had some bread earlier?” Zhao Zi says, but he also looks shifty enough that Jack mostly takes it with a grain of salt.

26. Absolutely Nothing Goes Wrong by anon - Jack/Zhao Zi - ~4500 words, teen - This is an AU where Zhao Zi is the son of a rival mob boss, but he’s still, you know HIMSELF. And when his father says he’s useless, he decides to prove him wrong by seducing Tang Yi’s second-in-command. It’s absolutely adorable.

The man pulled him by the arm, resisting Zhao Zi’s attempts to unhook his claws without causing a scene.

“Hey, stop grabbing me!” he shouted, as the other man played deaf.

“While I admit this is a very loud bar, I didn’t think it was quite so easy to mishear what this young man just yelled straight into your ear,” a newcomer who’d witnessed their conflict said lightly as he walked up to them. His words were accompanied by a wide, almost chilling smile. Zhao Zi blinked once and the odd peculiarity of that smile vanished, leaving just a regular smile in its place. He must’ve just been imagining things under the harsh shadows of the dimly lit bar.

AND +2

Because I’m shameless, I’ll add my own two fics to the end, if you’re interested.

WHY R U?

27. Sorry A Thousand Times - Fighter/Tutor - ~3200 words, explicit - This is a canon divergence for the series finale. I needed more catharsis after the intensity of episode 12.

Tutor narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists at his sides. He took a deep breath. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before you listen?” he asked. I don’t know how many more times I can bring myself to say it.

“Only once,” Fight said and then added, “if you mean it.”

Tutor crossed his arms over his chest and said, “What makes you think I don’t mean it now?”

The corner of Fight’s mouth turned up and he took a step closer. Tutor stumbled back until he was stopped by his legs hitting the edge of the bed. Fight reached out a hand and gently ran the back of his fingers over the line of Tutor’s jaw.

Until We Meet Again

28. Dream On - Win/Team - 8900 words, explicit - Takes place alongside show canon, so that we see how the bed sharing began and how Win and Team’s relationship developed over that year.

“Do you want to do well tomorrow?” Win asked, throwing one of his legs over both of Team’s.

“Yes,” Team said as he did his best to put some space between them on the tiny mattress.

“Then you need to get some sleep. I’m helping.”

“How is this helping?” Team demanded.

“Would you stop…” Win said, shifting closer every time Team pulled away. “Five minutes, Team. Just be still for five minutes, okay?”

113 notes · View notes

unsettledink · 3 years

Text

A while back I made up a list of fics I had ideas for/wanted to write, mostly to try and drum up bids for Marvel Trumps Hate.

Since then I have, of course, had approximately five million new ideas and keeping track of them has gotten a bit out of hand, so i thought I’d try and put them all in one place that I could come back to and also update more easily. Also possibly some sort of... accountability thing? Like if I put them out into the universe I’m more likely to actually write them? Well I can dream.

There’s going to be a couple of these, divided up by pairings. Feel free to ignore, it’s mostly housekeeping!

(This one’s just for starker and polystarker ideas.)

I’m kind of grouping these because it got long. (Smut, smut + feels, fluff, oh no the sads)

* for new ideas (ARG)

Just the smut! (Ok some feels):

Continuation of Hang Up – so what does happen the next morning after that phone call? (Sex. Probably more phone sex.)

*Pocket Change sequel – Why yes, Peter, you can work out some sort of retroactive deal to 'pay' for the suits...

Peter is dumb online – Peter decides to auction off his virginity online. Of course Tony finds out immediately. Of course Tony buys it to keep Peter from getting hurt. Of course Tony decides to meet up and teach Peter a lesson about being safe – wait. That might have been a mistake. (It’s not.)

Actually, Peter doesn’t like it rough – miscommunication piled on top of miscommunication because they’re both idiots who are desperate for each other, until a tipping point is reached. Happy ending! Fluffy ending!

Gag reflex training – pretty much what it sounds like. Tony having a lot of fun with Peter; messy, noisy, hopefully hot.

Experienced Peter – Peter hasn’t been waiting around for Tony to be the first, and he’s had time to figure out some of his preferences. Like topping almost exclusively, among other things. Hey I kind of wrote this!

Civil War pick me up – after the airport, Tony goes to check on Peter and is in desperate need of something nice. Peter really, really wants to be that something nice. Could be underage, could be not.

Continuation of Gift Wrapped – (Peter/Tony/Pepper) there’s a lot more sex happening for Tony’s birthday than I had time to write for kinktober.

But you want me to be safe, don’t you? - Peter’s hit with sex pollen, but it can be taken care of without outside help. Peter would still really like it if Tony would help. Or would at least keep an eye on him. Or at least stay in hearing range! He won’t be able to resist if Peter’s noisy and saying his name while he gets off, right???

Armor Kink - I mean, basically what it says on the tin. Peter’s been having fantasies about the armor forever. Tony is absolutely willing to help him with that.

ABO forced presentation – Peter doesn’t know what he’ll end up being, and that’s bad for Reasons. He convinces Tony try forcing a presentation (not noncon type forcing) and things get weird. Playing around with the idea of how non-binary might go in ABO. Possible Tony/Peter/Pepper endship. More than likely somewhat underage.

Avengers orgy – Peter’s finally old enough to join in the tradition! While he’s having fun with everyone, Peter and Tony keep gravitating to each other, winding up with things getting a little too emotional when Tony finally gets his chance. Potential for Tony/Peter/Rhodey endship.

The spider bite did what?!? - Peter starts having really weird cravings when he’s around Tony. Weird as in blood, and Tony is going to help him figure this out. Even when it turns into a craving for sex (and bloodplay). Even when it turns into terrifying (for Peter) egg/medical kink.

*Hooker D/S AU Brat!Peter – Tony orders 'the brattiest sub you have' and gets Peter. Who is incredibly so, and Tony is actually delighted by this. And Peter is a little taken aback that someone likes this rather than considering him a bad sub.

*Flaunt follow up – more Peter/Tony/Rhodey D/S AU? Yup!

*No, I'm saving YOU – villains of the week catch them and plan on gangbanging Peter – until Tony offers to be willing if they leave Peter alone. At some point Peter comes around and tries to bargain for them to use him instead of Tony. Tony is not happy about this, but boy, the villains are!

*Peter/Harley/Tony - Tony’s so glad Peter’s over that crush and happy with Harley. Really. Totally. Meanwhile, Peter & Harley are doing their best to get Tony into bed with them and growing increasingly frustrated with Tony’s (intentional) obliviousness.

Smut! Oh wait, where did all these feelings come from?:

Toybox – slightly darker Peter decides if Tony won’t fuck him, the least Tony can do is pay for Peter’s toys, and watch while Peter enjoys them. No touching allowed since Tony doesn’t want him, after all. Which is a rule that gets harder and harder to keep in place; feelings, so many feelings everywhere.

Pain kink Peter – what it says on the tin, lol. “Oh Mr. Stark, maybe you should supervise this slightly dangerous sex thing I like.” I think we can guess where it heads from there.

Baby's first D/S (dom version) – established T/P, Tony's subby but hasn't brought it up. Peter is like, 'but what if I was into the idea of doming?' and they start messing around with it. Peter is Very Earnest and learning all these new things, and Tony is surprised to find, after a while, Peter's doing pretty good on his own.

Call boy Peter – what it sounds like! It’s an accident that Tony gets him; good thing Peter was blindfolded! Bad thing that Peter’s senses are enhanced and he knows from the start who it is. Good thing that Peter’s not going to say anything so he can keep this reliable customer?

Evil Ex D/S verse – Peter’s pretty insecure about being a good sub for Tony and it’s not helped at all when one of Tony’s ex subs tells him he’ll never be able to take what Tony wants to dish out. Well, Peter’s going to prove him wrong! Tony really doesn’t understand why Peter is making himself miserable for something Tony doesn’t even want, and things almost break before they get fixed.

*Besties and Omegas and Peter's – Rhodey and Tony (both omegas) end up in an awkward situation when Peter has something like an enhanced rut around them. Slightly complicated dynamics but happy ending for everyone.

*Outraged owned Peter – some sort of slave type au where Obie buys Peter for Tony as a companion, considering Peter to be a distraction and possible spy. Tony does not want a sex slave and rejects him, and Peter is furious – he is not just for sex, he is literally worth his weight in gold, and how DARE Tony not want him!

*Very dark Peter - Peter’s decided he really likes having Tony completely wrapped around his little finger. To the point of getting Tony to give him/do things that are pretty far from acceptable, and then Peter figures out he likes showing off his hold over Tony even more. Oops.

Fluff! (Crap there’s not much):

Follow up to Seiche – mostly fluffy 5 times +1 where the emotion sensing bond causes (minor) problems

Fluffy D/S verse – all the fluff! All the outside POV! Everyone assumes that obviously Tony is a dom; after all, that’s how he’s always presented himself. Everyone is wroooooong. Tony’s never been happier.

Nail polish – little bit of Tony finding it incredibly appealing when Peter wears nail polish

*Lingerie shorts – several vignettes of them getting each other and wearing different interesting pieces of lingerie

Oh No + all the feelings, heavy on the bad ones:

Soulmark AU – Tony finds out first and isn’t going to do anything due to the age difference. Peter finds out and thinks that’s bullshit + horribly hurt that he’s being rejected. Things are forced when Peter gets hit with a drug that messes with that bond and they both have to figure out how things are going to go. Possible bittersweet ending.

Screw soulmates, actually - Post CW and Tony dealing with soulmate rejection (that’s a WHOLE other fic). Peter’s become convinced Tony’s a blank like him, and then doesn’t understand why Tony’s soulmate wouldn’t want him. Peter does! They get their happy ever after without being fated for each other, and Peter gets a chance to tells Tony’s soulmate what a dick they are. All the satisfaction!

*Blanks are Bad – soulmark au where blanks are regarded extremely poorly, and Tony is exposed as one. Lots of dealing with the ugly fallout, and Peter coming to Tony and confessing he's a blank too and has been so scared.

Untenable – sequel to Indefensible and … horrible. The ABO underage incest continues, Tony hates himself, Peter is distressingly happy. Mpreg makes everything ten times worse; endgame makes everything 100 times worse. Going beyond that would be spoilery, but uh. Everything becomes 1000 times worse by the end! Yay! Yikes.

*Made For It follow ups (aka the... happy version of Indefensible??) - we want to actually see the sex scene they talk about doing, right? Right. And possibly some mpreg? We shall see.

ABO accidental bonding – the worst abo version, heads up. Underage Peter, omegas are treated very poorly, Peter and Tony don’t know each other beforehand and don’t do great getting to know each other afterwards. Biology continues to fuck Peter over, and Tony really doesn’t get how desperately Peter wants Tony to like him. Mountains and mountains of angst and sad before the happy ending.

Copy - After IW, Tony makes a Peter clone/android/whatever. Unfortunately, it just makes things worse because it’s just enough off to make it super obvious it’s not Peter. And fake!Peter knows it too. He’s just enough like real Peter to fall in love with Tony too, and he can’t figure out how to make Tony care about him instead of real, dead Peter. Not that it matters when he snap is reversed (Tony lives) and fake!Peter isn’t needed or wanted anymore. (Will probably have a sequel where real Peter finds out about all this, probably happy ending for everyone.)

Nothing sticks around - years after the blip, Peter discovers Tony, alive - only Tony has none of his memories. Tony doesn’t want anything to do with these people Peter tries to reintroduce him to; he trusts Peter and wants to stay with him. And does, for quite some time, things turning into a relationship, and even if Peter feels guilty about it, he’s happy. Right up until Tony suddenly remembers everything … except what’s been going on the last few years with Peter. Undecided if there’s a happy ending or not.

I hate time travel - once Tony figures out time travel, he decides he needs to find out if this works by hopping forward and seeing if Peter is back. And then maybe he should hop forward a little more just to check on him. Keeps doing this, about once a year, and while Peter is so glad to see him, it’s destroying Peter to basically go through Tony ‘dying’ over and over. Pretty soon it’s fucking up Tony too, after he accidentally shows up when Peter’s in the middle of sex. Very bittersweet ending to maintain the timeline.

Fuck you, Beck - Beck goes about getting the glasses in the worst ways, and Peter finds out a little too late - way too late when it comes to sleeping with him. Not that he’s going to ever tell anyone about that. Not even Tony, when Tony comes back. Not even Tony, when it turns out Tony is interested. Okay, maybe he’ll have to tell Tony when Peter’s reactions to sex become a problem. Happy ending but lots of ouch on the way.

Sequel to Dormant - so what exactly does Tony notice the morning after? And what exactly does Peter do about it? (Spoiler: A lot more than Peter thought he would, and nothing good.)

Don’t punish people like that – as much Tony/Obie as Tony/Peter, maybe pre-Tony/Peter. Obie decided to deal with Tony’s wild streak by punishing him in an especially awful, painful, dehumanizing, sexual way. Tony’s managed to handle how awful that was by pretending it was helpful (nope!). When Peter will not stop misbehaving, the last resort Tony can think of is what was done to him. It helped, right? (He can’t bring himself to in the end, which sets off a cascading failure of repressed trauma, woot!)

*That's rape, Tony – Tony getting drugged, gangbanged, and recorded, and then having part of it released that looks consensual. Tony doesn't remember enough to say it wasn't, and with his history, people don't question it. It goes over very poorly and he's handling all the parts of it very poorly, and Peter is the one to finally put the pieces together.

Sex Pollen Non-Con – Tony’s hit with some sort of fuck or die stuff; only problem is that he 100% refuses to let Peter do anything, and there’s no one else. Peter, convinced that Tony’s going to die, stops giving Tony a choice. What’s that, the trauma Tony was hoping to spare him is replaced with way worse trauma from basically raping Tony? WHOOPS. (Probably happy ending!)

Secondhand verse – following after this, things growing steadily worse, hotter, and more complex between Peter, Beck, and Tony. Bad decisions all around! Unexpected feelings all around! General unhappiness at having feelings that can be hurt all around! Probably a series of fics.

12:00 - follow up to 11:59, Tony and Peter finally getting it on and Beck being an ass in the background. Also the prequel that’s primarily Peter/Quentin, and possibly a sequel where Tony decides that maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, watching Beck fuck Peter - and Peter liked it, right? Everyone’s down for a totally uncomplicated round two, right? Or three, or four...

(And feel free to talk to me about anything here, I love an excuse to ramble. Also, if something grabs your attention, have fun writing it - the more the merrier!)

#starker #pepperstarker #quenterony #ironspiderhusbands #rhodey x tony x peter #(is there a ship name for that???)#idea squad #idea dump #maybe i'll write this someday

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embeanwrites · 4 years

Text

Finding Home (Gavin Reed x Reader)

Chapter One

I couldn’t believe I was back in Detroit. I honestly never planned on coming back after everything that had happened between me and my dad. I left Michigan to go get my PhD in Sociology from (dream school). However, my dissertation was over android and human sociological relationships and the moment I was approved, Wayne State University in Detroit recruited me and offered me an amazing deal for a brand-new professor. It made sense since Detroit was at the heart of the android revolution, which would make research even easier.

I moved into a basic apartment in June and now it’s early July. I had been avoided seeing old friends and family, telling them I had to unpack and work on my new class, SOC 345: Android and Human Relationships. Which wasn’t a complete lie, but I have been watch an unhealthy amount of cute cat videos and eating a lot of peanut butter toast alone too.

I told my dad I would meet him today, Monday, at the station so we could get lunch with his police partner, Connor. My dad had always hated androids, I still had a hard time believing he had basically taken Connor under his wing and from what Tina tells me, he treats him like a son.

I took a deep breath and walked into the DPD. I couldn’t help but feel anxious. I hadn’t seen my dad in over 10 years. When him and my mother divorced, he tried to stay in touch, but after my half-brother, Cole, died he pretty much disappeared from my life.

“Hey, dad!” I said, a little too enthusiastically as I walked towards his desk. Immediately the android in the desk across from him stood up and gave me a goofy smile.

“You must be Lieutenant Anderson’s daughter! My name’s Connor.” He reached out his hand for a handshake which I accepted with a smile.

“Hi Connor, I’m (y/n). It’s nice to finally meet you!” I looked over to my dad, who had awkwardly shuffled towards us.

“Hey, (y/n). How’s Detroit been treating you?” I reached over and gave him a short hug.

“It’s been good. Doing research is a lot easier here than back in (old state). Plus, WSU gave me a pretty nice office.” I rubbed my shoulder; my dad was about to ask another question when another voice interrupted.

“Dr. (L/n). I’ve read some of your research and wanted to introduce myself. People here call me Nines, but I am an RK900 from cyberlife. If you ever have time, I would be interested in discussing some of your theories with you.” Nines kept his hands behind his back. He looked a lot like Connor, but taller and more serious.

“It’s nice to meet you Nines. I always have time to talk about my theories. Not many of my peers do similar research so any chance I get to talk about it I’ll take it.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man in a leather jacket with a hood, blue jeans, and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face.

“Hey Tin Can! We have a case to solve!” Nines whipped around to look at him and I moved from behind him so I could glare at this rude stranger.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are? You don’t get to talk to people or androids like that.” I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t help myself. I hate bullies, especially people who bully androids. I marched over to the man with my arms crossed my chest. He’s about 6 inches taller than me with a scar running diagonally across his nose. He snorts and looks down at me.

“And who are you pipsqueak?” He chuckled, for once I was glad, I looked younger than my age. Nothing beats giving your full title to assholes.

“I’m Dr. (Y/n) (L/n), a professor at Wayne State University studying sociological relationships between humans and androids, and it seems you fall under the category of ‘asshole to everyone’.” Keeping my glare on him, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. He mumbled a ‘whatever’ under his breath and walked away. I smiled to myself and turned back towards Nines, Connor, and my father.

“I apologize for my partner, Detective Reed. He sometimes forgets not everyone shares the same opinions as him.”

“No worries, Nines. But you shouldn’t have to deal with that, I mean-“

“(Y/n), Reed has a lot of problems, but is mainly just an asshole.” My dad interrupted me, “but we should really get to lunch.” I nodded.

“Well it was nice to meet you, Nines. Please feel free to stop by my office anytime. I’m pretty much there every day until classes start.” Nines gave me a short nod and walked towards where Detective Reed had gone as I followed my dad and Connor out of the precinct.

“Lieutenant Anderson said you like sandwiches, so I found a local restaurant that is highly rated.” Connor said as we all buckled up in my dad’s car. Connor had given me the passenger seat and he sat in the back.

“I do like sandwiches.” I turned back to look at him, as my dad started driving. “So, Connor, how do you like working for the police department?”

“I was made to assist law enforcement, although I do prefer working for the DPD over Cyberlife.”

“That’s fair. What about you, dad? How do you like working with Connor?” My dad snickered at my question.

“Well, he’s the only partner I’ve been able to stand. Although I wish he would stop putting evidence in his mouth, it’s disgusting- “

“He has a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” “I have a forensics kit that can analyze samples in real time.” Me and Connor said at the same time, causing my dad to groan and me to giggle.

“Damnit now there’s two of you.” My dad said with a short laugh.

“(Y/n), how do you know that?” Connor asked, I noticed in the rearview mirror he tilted his head.

“Shortly after the android revolution I interviewed one of my old contacts who use to work at Cyberlife. Plus, you’re the one saving my dad’s butt out in the field I wanted to know what you were capable of.” My dad quickly glanced over at me. I could tell he was surprised that I knew that, or maybe he was surprised I kept tabs on him.

“That makes sense.” Connor said shortly, his LED changed to yellow for a short second and then looked back at me through the rearview mirror. “Lieutenant Anderson forbade me from looking you up and learning more about you before meeting you. I didn’t know he allowed you to do research on me.”

“Connor, two things, I’ve told you a million times you can call me Hank, especially when we’re outside the precinct. Second, (Y/n) looking you up for her research is different than you scanning a ton of databases and learning everything about her.” My dad said as he pulled into a parking spot.

“That’s fair, Hank.” Connor said as we all got out of the car. The restaurant wasn’t very busy, and we got a table right away. Me and Connor sat on one side of the table and my dad sat on the other side. He kept nervously looking at me and the menu.

“So, how do you like your new apartment, (Y/n)?” My dad asked me while staring intently at the menu.

“It’s a little small, but it’s just me so it works. It’s only a ten-minute walk from the university which is really nice. You guys should come see it sometime. I’m pretty much fully unpacked.”

“Do you have a dog?” Connor asked quickly, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“No, I’m more of a cat person, but I have missed Sumo.”

“Sumo’s going to go crazy when he sees you. He refuses to let anyone take one of the blankets you left still. He’s always hiding it around the house. He’s so much bigger now.”

��I didn’t know that that blanket belonged to (Y/n).”

“Yeah, Sumo and (Y/n) were really close.” My dad said softly. I felt an ache in my heart. For a moment I thought of telling my dad I wished I hadn’t left, but that wasn’t fully true. Luckily the waitress saved us from sitting in awkward silence. She cheerfully took me and my dad’s order and walked away. “I’m surprised Nines walked up and introduced himself and asked to talk sometime.”

“He seems nice.” I said softly, somehow, I felt I’ve stepped over a boundary. Maybe I should’ve met them at the restaurant instead of going into the precinct. “I’m sorry for yelling at that man, it wasn’t my place to talk like that in a police department.” I stared down at my lap until I heard my dad burst out laughing.

“You have to be kidding! I love seeing people put Gavin in his place. He’s an asshole,” my dad said. “Pointed a gun one time at Connor even.” I gasped.

“What? Why? Connor are you okay?” I grabbed his arm and he jumped a little in surprise.

“Of course, it was when I was first assigned to the DPD. I did knock him out later, which was…satisfying.” Connor said, I let go of his arm and felt myself blush. “(Y/n), may I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you care so much about androids? Even before the first reports of deviancy you were publishing papers fighting for android rights.” I had expected Connor to ask me that at some point, but I thought it would take longer than this.

“I don’t know I’ve just always felt that we were equal. Why does it matter that our blood is different colors? Androids have helped push society so much further than expected. I just…it never felt right to me. The way people treated androids.” I couldn’t help, but shiver thinking about some of the horrific stories I’ve read. I looked over at Connor who was staring at me intently. His LED was spinning yellow. “Can I ask you a personal question, Connor?”

“Of course.”

“Many androids have taken off their LEDs, why have you kept yours?” His hand raised up to his LED, which was still yellow.

“There’s no reason I should be ashamed that I am an android instead of human, so why would I hide the fact?” My dad snorted and I quickly turned my head towards him, tilting my head slightly.

“I’m not laughing at what he said. It took a month of me trying to convince Connor to stop wearing his Cyberlife uniform.” I couldn’t help but smile, looking back at Connor. A light blue blush spread across his cheeks.

“It was comfortable.” He said, his LED finally turning back to blue.

“That’s fair. In middle school I wore the same sweatshirt every day.” I said, as the waitress sat down our sandwiches. I took a bite, not realizing how hungry I was. “Mhmmm, Connor you picked a great restaurant, this is delicious!” He beamed a smile. I looked back at my dad, who was looking at both of us with so much happiness. “Dad, do you think you and Connor could stop by my office sometime this week? I really hate where they’ve put my desk and couch and I could use some help moving them.”

“That’s fine with me, Connor?”

“I would love to help, maybe after you can come over and visit with us and Sumo?” I looked at my dad who immediately looked worried, I could tell he wanted to take fixing our relationship at my pace.

“That sounds really nice. Does Friday work for you guys?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. Fowler’s been telling Connor he needs to take time off anyway.”

“Which I don’t understand. I’m an android. I can work every day and be fine. Our cases have a high success rate.” I let out a laugh.

“Connor, he isn’t asking you to take time off to punish you, he wants you to be able to enjoy the world outside work! Have you picked up any hobbies?” I asked him.

“I like to take care of Sumo.” He answered quickly.

“Okay, well how about one day me and you go to a local dog shelter and walk some of the rescues?” I offered.

“Really?” He was practically jumping up and down.

“Yes of course! It’s great volunteer work and those dogs need some love.”

“Hank, would you come with us?”

“That should be you and (Y/n)’s thing. We can do something altogether some other time.” I couldn’t help but notice his hesitant tone.

“I think that would be really nice, Dad.” He didn’t look up from his sandwich, but I could see the small smile on his face.

Chapter 2

#gavin reed x reader #gavin reed #rk800 #rk900 #dbh nines #detroit become human #fan fic #sumo #connor #hank anderson #connor is like a son to hank

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writing-the-end · 4 years

Text

Exodus- Part 1

An Edolas Hermit AU story.

Impulse has become public enemy no. 1 in Hermitland. Making the impossible escape from General Xisuma and his cohorts Doc and Cub, Impulse and his friends need to do the impossible- escape Hermitland, beyond the walled city. Where will they end up? Who will make it?

How does Impulse become Edolas Impulse?

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I didn’t intend to make an 8 part story of how Impulse found his way to Edolas, how he came to become a part of the guild, but Red’s story is just too good to not tell it all! I’m very proud of this story, I hope you guys love it as well.

Warning: This story includes general dark elements and language

“It’s only a matter of time before they find you, Impulse.” Tango whispers, watching as Zed presses the last of their medical cream against Impulse’s bruised neck. Impulse flinches at each touch, even though he knows he has no reason to.

Impulse knows these are his friends. They saved his life, cut him free and fled through the underground tunnels together. But it hurts either way, and any sort of pressure around his neck makes his throat close up all over again, and the tears well at the corners of his eyes. A whisper in the back of his mind says this isn’t real, that he isn’t really alive. He’s still on the noose, and his mind is playing tricks with what he sees, the time he feels passing. Or that he's still in the rehab center, hallucinating it all after the effects of the shots that are forced into his veins.

He has to quiet that voice, remind himself that it is real. His friends really did save him from the gallows. It’s been a week since they made their great escape, into the long forgotten tunnels of Hermitland. Tango and Zed only took short trips to the city above, just to get food from safehouses littered across the place. Impulse was public enemy number one, he wouldn’t be able to show his face above ground. Not unless he wanted to get captured again.

In the week that he’s been hiding below ground, the red marks around his neck have turned into horrible black bruises. In a fractured mirror salvaged from an abandoned house, he can see where the noose constricted against his throat. It aches at all hours of the day, and in any reflection, he has to pause to look at the mottled skin. When he gulps, or eats, it stings like someone just struck him in his trachea. He struggles to sleep at night, both from the pain in his neck as well as the nightmares that haunt his dreams.

“We need to leave.” Impulse breathes out, once Zed’s fingers are away from his neck. “We need to get out of Hermitland.”

“Where will we go?” Zed questions, bouncing in his shoes at the thought of leaving. Excitement glitters in his eyes, the closest thing to sunshine Impulse has seen all week.

“Anywhere we want. We’ll be free, we don’t have to listen to anyone. We can go anywhere, do anything.” Impulse sees Tango sit up, determination and hope filling tired eyes.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to make it out there? How do we know what’s on the other side of the wall?” Tango wrings his hands, unable to not be skeptical about such idealistic beliefs.

“We’ve made it here for this long. Survived all the city had to throw at us, survived living off the grid down here. We’re three smart dudes, we’ll figure it out.” Impulse runs a hand through his hair. They have different skills, different pasts. Impulse knows how to make things last, when he doesn’t know what the future will hold. Zed sees uses for things no one else would think to make use of. And Tango has years and years of private schooling and work in the underground to understand what they’re dealing with.

“We should leave sooner rather than later.” Tango concedes, a wispy smile starting to appear on his face. They’re really going to escape. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us.”

“Let’s leave now!” Zed tosses the empty medicine tin over his shoulder, scrambling to his feet.

Tango grabs Zed by the tail of the white button up shirt they all wear. “We need supplies if we’re going to leave. Food, water, tools.”

“I know that my family has some stone tools at our house.” Zed offers. “And we can get food as well. Pack up what we want to take with us.”

“Can I come up with you guys?” Impulse wants to go to his apartment. Get his own things, his own clothes. Maybe even say goodbye to his family. He hasn’t been home in so long, not since he was captured by the guards. That was...well, he doesn’t know how long ago it was. He can’t remember how long he was in the rehab facility.

Even Zed’s face loses the joy, both frowning at him. “It’s too dangerous, mate. They know what you look like. Everyone knows what you look like after the…”

Zed doesn’t need to say it. Mentioning the public execution by name wasn’t necessary, they all knew what Zed was saying. Tango stands, brushing his black pants clean of the dust and dirt the underground carries. “Besides, the bruises would be a dead giveaway as well. You stay down here, we’ll be back soon enough.”

Impulse watches Zedaph and Tango disappear down the dimly lit tunnels, wandering down the subway that was half built then forgotten. Leaving Impulse to his own devices, pacing nervously around the small cave they’ve claimed as theirs. His worries of them getting caught start morphing as time goes on. What if they’re wrong, and Cub does know who Zed and Tango are? What if they’re waiting to catch them when they can’t escape? What if they're walking right into a trap, and he can’t do anything from down here? What if Cub has been watching them all this time, and there’s cameras even in the underground? Impulse looks around, trying to find any sort of telltale hint of their little hideout being bugged.

He peels back maps, careful not to smudge his sloppy handwriting. Handwriting from when they were looking for a break in the wall. He presses the corners of the map back up, noting the empty area surrounding Hermitland. Whoever made this map didn’t even bother to fill in what’s beyond the wall- it might as well be the void, or not exist at all. Hermitland is the entire universe, the entire life of everyone left in this world.

He digs through chests, shaking bottles of redstone and flicking comparators. Nostalgia whispers across Impulse’s mind, remembering when he first met Zed and Tango. They were all first years in engineering school, having just passed their placement exams. Tango came from a well off family that had adopted him, Zed was a genius that won a competition, but Impulse just got lucky. Lucky to get a scholarship to become a redstone engineer. To help the people and the city. Back then, his idea of helping was developing better redstone lines, fixing old tech. Now, helping the city was freeing it from the corrupt hands that toy with them. Three friends, enjoying school and hassling over tests, turned into three rebels just trying to find their freedom.

Impulse goes through everything, even their beds, leaving the room a torn up disaster in his wake. He doesn’t find anything, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s being watched. Cub knows everything. He knew things about Impulse that even Tango and Zed didn’t know. But there’s nothing Impulse can do- just sit, waiting and twiddling his thumbs. Hoping for his friends to return.

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

“Do you think that’s enough food?” Tango whispers, looking at the bag full of apples, baked potatoes, and even some bundles of golden carrots.

“Once we’re out of the city, we’ll be able to find food no problem.” Zed laughs, putting the stone axe into the bottom of his bag. Hidden in case curfew officers ask what they have.

“How are you so sure it’s going to be lush and green beyond the wall? How do we know everything still isn’t fucked by the war?” Tango knows that Zed is a glass-half-full kind of guy, but even this surely must give him some pause. No one knows what’s beyond the wall. Not even the most knowledgeable rebels have ever even attempted to leave the city. That fear, that unknowing of what lies beyond. It could be nothing, it could be everything.

And that’s all they needed, all Impulse and Zed had been banking on. That everything is just beyond the wall. Tango was less sure, but the more that the others would chatter and dream, they would spark hope in him as well. That there was something beyond the wall. His friends gave him the hope that no other member of the underground ever gave Tango. It will be better beyond the wall- it has to be.

“All those years, and nothing grew back?” Zed giggles. “I know you’re from the inner city, Tango, but I worked in the farming industry. Plants are tricky little buggers. You can’t get them to stop growing when they really wanna. I’m sure there’s stuff out there.”

Tango shrugs the pack onto his shoulder, nodding towards the door. Towards the dark streets, distant figures scurrying towards home before getting in trouble with curfew officers. “Let’s get back. I want to be out of here before sunrise.”

The pair walk onto the streets, blending in with the other citizens. It’s easier for Zed, he doesn’t look so different as Tango. Tango always gets stopped by officers, questioned as to why he’s out. Lucky for the both of them, their jobs as redstone engineers grants them a certain amount of wiggle room. They can just claim they’re going to a build site that needs emergency maintenance. They slip through the night, unnoticed among the other people on the streets. Exact same clothing, exact same demeanor. They shouldn’t be out past curfew. Zed stops in the middle of the street, scrabbling his fingers against Tango’s arm. “We need to go to Impulse’s house.”

“What? Why?” That’s a stupid idea. If there’s anywhere they’ll most likely be seen, mostly likely get investigated, it’s Impulse’s apartment. It’s probably bugged to hell and back. Where they first thought to search for Impulse after his escape.

“We both grabbed things from our homes...it’s only fair he has one thing from his childhood. I know exactly what to get too. Please, Tango. It’ll be quick. No one will notice. You can use that jammer of yours to keep Cub and his drones from seeing.” The two look up into the sky, beyond the dim street lights to see if any of the surveillance drones are listening in.

Tango sighs. “It’s only a few blocks. Let’s go. But we need to be quick.”

They take off down the street, creeping down alleys to avoid busy intersections or patrolling drones. Out of the luxurious upper class sector, into the blue-collar apartments and homes. Smaller, looming over one another. Some houses are in disrepair, but still housing families of people.

And there’s Impulse’s apartment. One of many doors to a long line of apartments, but his is the only one with the door wide open. The hinges nearly off their bolts, thin wood slowly creaking in the wind. Zed pauses at the doorway, looking just to his left. Into the brush and bushes that surround the steps up to Impulse’s apartment.

“Zed?” Tango waves his hand across his friend’s blank stare. They shouldn’t be seen here.

“I saw it happen, you know. I was here when they took him. Right there.” Zed points out where he hid in the foliage. “Impulse saw them coming, and shoved me out the window. Told me not to move no matter what. They tore the door open, and dragged him out by his hair. Kicking and Screaming, no sense of humanity towards him. I should’ve done something to stop them, but Impulse told me not to move. They disappeared into an unmarked vehicle, off towards Bastion Towers.”

He takes shaking steps up to the door, each rise up the stairs weakening his knees. All the optimism in Zed is gone, shadowed by memories so much worse than dreams. He should have done something, anything, to stop them. To help his friend.

Inside Impulse’s apartment was a disaster. Drawers flung open and contents spilled out. The sparse furniture broken and scattered. It looks like a horde of monsters came through here. The truth isn’t that far off. It’s a small apartment, really just a living area and a branched off bedroom. For this part of the city, having it’s own bathroom is fancy. Impulse was proud of the hard work he did to get this place. And now it’s all destroyed.

Zedaph knows exactly where it is. What he knows will be the one thing Impulse would take with him. And lucky for them, it wasn’t harmed. The clock had been knocked off the shelf it sat on, but the arms still clicked along at their steady, equal pace. The brass frame was dented, but it didn’t stop the intricate clockwork from continuing to run. Zed crouches down, picking up the redstone infused clock.

“His first redstone project. That’s a brilliant idea, Zed.” Tango whispers, looking at the moon continue to rise against the black night sky. Impulse even painted stars onto it. “I remember when he showed us this. Our first time going out to lunch together, all three of us.”

“Let’s get back to him. I’m sure he’s on the verge of a breakdown.” Zed carefully stows the precious, cobbled together clock into the pocket of his slacks. Just as they slipped out of the underground, they returned.

None the wiser that they’ve been watched.

Always watched.

#I swear this story has a happy ending #but you gotta break a geode to get the gem #hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

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petrichoravellichor · 4 years

Note

Can I please have a (platonic) Balthazar and Castiel in the prompt “-some dude with a megaphone is spewing homophopic crap outside the cafeteria and we’re both protesting him because the college is adamnant about his freedom of speech rights, make out with me to piss him off?”

Can I Get an Amen

Relationship: Balthazar & Cas (platonic)

Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Naomi (unnamed, but it’s her)

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Balthazar POV, Bi-/Pansexual Balthazar, Slightly Hippie!Cas (like, a mixture of Endverse!Cas + Crazy!Cas), Bees, Homophobic Language (which gets shut the fuck down), Very Exaggerated Make-Out Session Between Friends (to piss off a homophobe, so it’s for a good cause)

(Ao3)

*****

When Sam’s alarm went off at seven a.m., Balthazar’s first thought upon jarring awake was that he was going to throw the bloody phone out the window. (He didn’t, because doing so would have required him to get up, but it was a near thing.) Balthazar had no idea what sort of cosmic fuck-up he’d committed in a previous life to get landed with a roommate for whom going for an early morning run beat out having a lie-in, but as he grumbled under his breath while Sam rose and dressed, he felt fairly certain that fate was having a laugh at his expense.

Sam, the bastard, found this all very amusing.

“You know,” Sam said mildly as he sat on the edge of his bed and did up his shoelaces, seemingly impervious to the death-glare Balthazar was giving him, “it wouldn’t kill you to get up a few hours before your first class. You don’t even have to exercise: you could just, like, read or get some extra studying in or something.”

Balthazar snorted. “I could, yes, but why on earth would I,” he said, stretching luxuriously beneath his sheets, “when I could just as easily stay in bed and dream of having a ménage à-whatever-French-for-twelve is?”

“Okay, one, it’s douze, and two, ew. Also, don’t even pretend like you could keep up with that many women.”

“Mm, bold of you to assume they were all women.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he said, standing, “I’m gonna go. Have fun dreaming about naked people.”

He left, and Balthazar promptly buried his head under his pillow, determined to fall back asleep. He gave up after half an hour of angry tossing and turning, rising in a huff and stomping over to his dresser. If he was doomed to be awake this early, then he might as well go down to the quad and fetch himself something caffeinated to drink.

Ten minutes later, he was trudging down the steps outside the dorm building and mulling over various forms of revenge—his current favorite consisted of tossing out one of Sam’s beloved running shoes, then watching with glee as Sam searched for it in vain—when he heard a voice from the lawn to his left:

“You’re up early.”

Balthazar turned and spotted his friend Cas, who was currently dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and sweats; he was barefoot, balancing on one leg with the other tucked up under him, palms pressed together, and was peering at Balthazar with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “I didn’t know you even existed before noon.”

Balthazar sighed. “Yes, well, annoying roommates with early alarms are annoying.”

“Ah.” Cas shifted into a different pose, placing both feet flat on the grass and raising his arms above his head. “And here I thought I’d finally convinced you to try yoga with me.”

“Cassie, the day I willingly twist myself into a pretzel while both clothed and sober is the day I forgive you for making me sit through three hours of that god-awful Titanic movie.”

“You’re just mad because you hate Celine Dion.”

“It’s not her I hate, it’s that bloody song! And furthermore,” Balthazar added, pointedly ignoring Cas’s snicker, “our dear Rose’s heart wouldn’t have had to go on if she’d just done a better job of making room for Jack on that piece of fucking debris.”

“It was a door.”

“It was a travesty, is what it was, and I’ll thank you to quit bringing it up. Now then,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the quad, “I’m going for a latte. Care to join me? Or have you still got to do your downward doggy-style or what have you?”

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his sandals. “It’s downward dog, and no, I’m done.”

“Brilliant, you’re buying.”

They headed toward the quad, Cas talking animatedly about some new Save the Bees project he and a few others in the Environmental Club were hoping to kick off soon. Balthazar, who was busy trying to decide if he wanted a muffin or a scone with his latte, was only half listening, a decision he regretted when he heard Cas say, with a hint of smugness, “I knew I could count on you,” and, after a quick mental replay, realized that he’d just agreed to attend an all-day event that coming weekend. Fuck. He opened his mouth to give an excuse when a commotion ahead caught his attention.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the quad; as Balthazar and Cas neared, Balthazar saw that at its center was a middle-aged brunette woman dressed in formal clothing who was speaking into a megaphone:

“…TIME HAS COME TO RENOUNCE YOUR SINFUL LIFESTYLE AND REMEMBER THAT ONLY THROUGH GOD’S GRACE CAN YOU ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS US THAT MAN SHALL NOT LIE WITH MEN AS HE DOES WITH WOMEN, THAT IT IS AN AB—”

“—SOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL WAY TO SPEND A FRIDAY NIGHT!” interjected Balthazar, causing the woman to pause and several heads to turn in their direction.

The woman lowered her megaphone. She looked from Balthazar to Cas and back again. “I am here to spread the Lord’s teachings to you and others like you, those who have been led astray by immoral temptations of the flesh. You should thank me.”

Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “Thank you? What on earth for?”

The woman frowned. “I told you, I’m here to spread the Lord’s teachings—”

Balthazar cut her off. “You did, twice. Good for you.” He crossed his arms. “But, you see, we’re a litter-free campus, so it’d be lovely if you took your rubbish elsewhere.”

Several of the surrounding students cheered. The woman glanced around, seemingly unsure. “I have a permit. I’m allowed to be here.”

“We’re students,” said Cas. “We pay money to be here.” Even more people cheered. “And incidentally, the line you’re referring to, Leviticus 18:22, condemns pedophilia, not homosexuality.”

Balthazar turned to Cas. “What, really?”

“Yes. The original wording translates to ‘man shall not lie with young boys’.” Cas regarded the woman coolly. “Also, since you claim to concern yourself with the word of God, I’d check the tag on that suit. Leviticus 19:19 prohibits wearing garments that mix linen and wool.”

The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I will not be lectured on my faith by a young man who has clearly lost his way.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” responded Cas. “I’m simply telling you what the Bible says.”

“You mock me.”

“You do that to yourself.”

The woman scowled, eyes boring into Cas. “There are places that can help you, programs that can teach you to make more Godly choices.”

“You’re referring to so-called conversion therapy,” said Cas, and though he was still speaking calmly, there was an edge to his voice that Balthazar rarely heard, “a practice that has been discredited by every leading expert on human sexuality for over two decades.”

“Despite what you think, it can be effective if you’re willing, if you want to be fixed—”

“We’re not broken,” said Cas. “Your beliefs are.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“Oh, piss off!” snapped Balthazar. Cas might have had the patience to deal with this sort of thing uncaffeinated, but he most certainly did not. “Aren’t there more important things you could spend your energy bitching about? Take bees, for example: they’re dropping dead at an alarming rate, which could have frankly catastrophic effects on our food supply, but no, you’re right, let’s get all dressed up and tell gay people they’re going to hell because they have the audacity to be themselves, that’s clearly the bigger priority.”

Cas gave him a surprised smile. “You were listening about the bees.”

“Of course I was listening, I’m a wonderful friend like that. Speaking of,” said Balthazar, turning to Cas with a raised eyebrow, “fancy a friendly snog to piss off this hag?”

Cas thought a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Balthazar bracingly, grabbing a fistful of Cas’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

There was no real heat to it—at the end of the day, Balthazar knew Cas was about as romantically interested in him as he was in Cas; that is to say, not at all—but in for a penny, in for a pound. Balthazar closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, letting out an exaggerated moan; he could feel Cas practically shaking with suppressed laughter and gave him a very subtle pinch. Cas let out a muffled snort before gasping, “Oh, Balthazar!” in mock passion and pressing their lips more firmly together; he even groaned a bit, which at which point it was Balthazar’s turn to bite back a chuckle.

Thankfully, their tactic worked: the students around them erupted into applause, and scarcely five seconds had passed before the woman let out an affronted huff and stormed off. Once the sound of her heels had sufficiently faded, Balthazar cracked an eye open and, with the visual confirmation that she was gone, gave Cas a tap on the shoulder, stepping back with a grin. “Well, that went swimmingly, wouldn’t you say?”

Cas looked off in the direction the woman had gone. “It did seem to have the desired effect, although,” he added, lips twitching in a poorly concealed smirk as he reached into his pocket and produced a tube of organic lip balm, “you probably need this more than I do.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, we’re giving post-snogging critiques, are we? Here, then.” He took the lip balm and, in exchange, held out a small tin of mints. “You absolutely need this more than I do.”

Cas snorted, accepting the mints and making a show of popping one into his mouth; Balthazar, for his part, applied a liberal amount of lip balm. “Right, then,” he said, smacking his lips together and pocketing the tube, “coffee?”

#balthazar #cas & balthazar #balthazar & cas #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #my writing #can i get an amen #cw: homophobic language #cw: homophobia

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obscure-sentimentalist · 4 years

Note

“I can tell you’re upset. Do you need anything right now?” - Merlyn Boys 💙

From the Comforting Cuddles Starters list

(Anon, from the bottom of my heart, I appreciate and thank you. You just gave me an excellent opening to do some further exploration into the AU that’s quickly winning over my heart, and let me roll in some wonderful brotherly feels.)

Part of what I’m tentatively calling the Satellite Call ‘verse; follow-up to this

June 2003

After a good eighteen years of living with more than one set of emotions rattling around his head at a given time, Tommy likes to think he’s become a pretty perceptive guy.

Although, there’s also a very distinctive difference between being perceptive enough to pick up on small cues and read the room (which… yeah, still not his forte), and being jolted out of a deep, deep sleep to the emotional equivalent of screamo metal battering his brain.

(Actually, if he focuses hard enough, he can make out the indistinguishable throat-shredding vocals and pounding bass of the real thing under the onslaught of negative feelings.)

“Dammit, Connie,” he whines into his pillow, cracking one eye open to peek at the clock on the nightstand (3:42 AM, seriously?). He allows himself one last groan over the misfortune of being yanked so carelessly awake before his good big brother instincts kick in.

Whatever’s got his brother in such a fit isn’t something that can wait until a more reasonable hour.

“I can tell you’re upset,” Tommy says, rolling onto his back and staring up into the black at the ceiling. Upon sensing the slight volume shift down that confirms he’s caught Connor’s attention, he continues almost gently, “Do you need anything right now?”

(Wait, that’s a little too touchy-feely. This cannot stand.)

“Because, you know, I could really use some Aspirin and a return to that fantasy land I was enjoying before you so rudely disrupted my beauty rest. Really, Connie, emo hour is from 9-10 PM Monday through Friday, with drink specials on Wednesdays. I can’t have you just flagrantly ignoring that.”

(Nailed it.)

Sure enough, that dials things back even more and sends a chord of irritation reverberating down the connection. So glad to hear you care, Connor snipes back, but there’s an undercurrent of fondness that alerts Tommy that his façade has been found out, and the sincerity is appreciated.

“I care about getting a good night’s sleep,” Tommy points out, even as he abandons that goal in shifting into a seated position against his headboard and flipping on the lamp beside his bed. “Which, uh, considering it’s not even 6 on Chicago time, it seems neither of us have achieved today.”

That sends a hush over their mental link, blanketing the discordance of Connor’s thoughts. D— Cornelius tried to talk me out of pre-med again. He’s eased up a bit on trying to get me to stay closer to Chicago or swap to one of his choice universities, but he’s still after me on switching to a business track.

Tommy bites his tongue and does his best to surreptitiously wall off his own thoughts so none of them filter over to his brother. Oh, does he understand that. Except where Connor’s had the balls to fight back on being shoved into a stuffy suit-and-tie and big office combo against his will, Tommy’s just rolled over and gone where Malcolm has pointed him. The fact that it’s also where Oliver’s headed is the only saving grace to his acquiescence.

It’s not that he’s envious, or even resentful of his twin—Tommy would actually have to have feelings stronger than a watered-down beer about going into business over anything else. If anything, he’s… he’s proud.

Proud that Connor has such a passion; proud that he’s willing to fight tooth-and-claw to pursue it, damning any efforts to stop him and drop him into a cage of other’s expectations; proud that the future is bound to have one hell of a doctor on its hands.

Proud that at least one of the twins will be able to make something of himself, and honor Rebecca Merlyn for it.

With all of that tucked safely away, Tommy turns his attention back to Connor’s predicament, and wrinkles his nose for effect. “He sprung this all on you again at the ass-crack of dawn? That’s seriously a dick move.”

Well, no, Connor hedges. It was last night, actually. But I went to bed angry, and then I woke up still angry, and there was no falling back asleep after that. So I just…

“You put on some headphones and blasted even angrier music and let your rage run free, conveniently forgetting that someone else is on the other end of this little tin-can telephone?” Tommy deadpans.

A pause, then genuine regret filters down the line. Sorry.

Tommy sighs, scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “It’s cool. I’d like to opt out of any repeat performances, though.”

The groan Connor lets out at that has Tommy almost expecting to find his brother astral-projected into his room. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next two months.

Tommy winces in sympathy (and also at the prospect of many more rude awakenings in his future). “Wish you could get out sooner, man,” he says solemnly.

And isn’t that a flip compared to Tommy’s relationship with Malcolm. Neither father-son relationship is going to get a gold star, but Connor’s problem has always been with Cornelius trying to get him to stay, while Malcolm is rarely ever around to…

(Did the nightstand lamp suddenly get brighter?)

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathes as it finally hits him. “Connie. Connor. You can come stay here for the summer.”

The dead silence in his head would fill him with dread in any other circumstances, but all it does now is make Tommy’s heart swoop at the thrill.

Holy shit, Connor echoes, mental voice rising with newfound excitement and hope. You’re serious?

“Dead,” Tommy confirms, scrambling to kick the covers off and throw himself out of bed to get to his desk. He makes a beeline for the calendar pinned to the wall, flipping between this month and future ones to account for the scattered notes scribbled within the boxes. “Dad’s off on another business trip starting this Friday. And he never says how long he’s going to be gone, but based on past track records, I don’t expect he’ll come slinking back until just before Labor Day.” He pulls back, dropping his hand as an incredulous laugh gasps up from his throat. “We… we can make this happen. We’re eighteen, there are so many things we have the power to do ourselves now.”

I’m already disappointing Cornelius with my college plans, Connor says, and Tommy can just feel the blinding, wicked grin crossing his twin’s face. Might as well get a head-start on that inevitable estrangement.

Seriously. Tommy is so proud of his brother. And he’s sure he’s going to be even prouder when he actually gets to meet him in person.

(And isn’t that a thing? He’s actually going to meet his brother, and put an identical—but surely so unique—face to the voice that’s lived in his mind since before either of them were able to distinguish Tommy from Connor and vice-versa.)

“We’re doing this,” Tommy declares, and in the too-early still of the morning, he feels the words lock in place. It feels like a promise.

(It feels like a homecoming.)

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #merlyn boys #tommy merlyn #connor rhodes #I just had so many wonderful brotherly feeeeeeels while writing this #no I will not apologize

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shadedrose01 · 4 years

Text

Take Me To Church

Ship: Parkner (Peter Parker/Harley Keener)

Summary: none 🤷‍♀️

Tags: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Angst, Heavy Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Magic, Magic-Users, Mages, Princes & Princesses, Kings & Queens, Prince Peter Parker, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Pepper Potts's Biological Child, Royalty, Making Out, Soulmates, descriptive making out, Like borderline sexual content, whoops, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, kind of, This is really dark and Angsty y'all, Sorry Not Sorry

Part 1 of the "Devil's Backbone" series

TRIGGER WARNING: READ THE TAGS. There's a LOT of homophobic thoughts and internalized homophobia in this oneshot, due to how they viewed homosexuals/same sex relations back in medieval times. That's what this story is mainly about, Peter knowing he shouldn't like the man (Harley) but he does anyways, and he hates himself for it. So please, if that triggers you or upsets you, DO NOT read this fic. Be careful, be safe, be healthy. I love you all :))

This is long, so here's a link to the fic on ao3!

He shouldn't be here, he thinks as he stands in front of the small, shack like house. It was clearly deteriorating, old and worn, the exterior brick lightened from years of sunlight, cracked from the rain and covered in mold, the forest surrounding the building seeming to have overgrown and slowly swallowed the building into its clutching grasp. There is a hole for a window, shattered glass surrounding it where the window had broken at some point over the years, and the door is an old wood, dark and scratched with use and age, also covered in foliage. The roof in perticular is ruined, the tiles coated with green and brown, mold and rust, whatever was left of it, that is. There was many holes from where tiles had broken and fallen down into the house, but someone had taken the time to weave some straw and leaves, using some mud to patch the holes. It was the only sign that someone still lived in this home. If Peter hadn't seen the roof, he would've thought the place had been abandoned. It'd be better if it was.

He really shouldn't be here. Maybe if he turned around now, he wouldn't notice. Maybe if he went back now, maybe his father wouldn't notice his absence, notice his disobedience, notice his transgression.

He turns on the spot, about to walk away, walk back to the castle and stay there where he is supposed to be, where he belongs, but right as he does, an old, dirty, dusty door creaks open, and a higher, but still decently low pitched, accented voice calls out to him, teasing, almost mocking in its amusement, "Are you just going to stand there and stare at the forest, or...?"

Peter shuts his eyes, grits his teeth, hates himself for the shot of excitement that accompanies the spike of fear in his gut, the embodiment of an oxymoron flaring inside of him, burning at his organs, his lungs. His breath halts, stutters, his heart picking up speed as he turns back around and faces the person stood brazenly in the door frame. The nightmare that lingered in all of his dreams. The plague that haunted all of his thoughts.

The object of his forbidden, ruinous affections.

He was leaning against the rotting wood frame, his arms crossed over his chest, showing off his lean, but still seemingly firm biceps, wearing nothing but a light, loose fitting shirt and a pair of braccae, an outfit way too causal for a man usually adorned in an outfit of the wealthy, tunic, leggings, cape and all. An outfit way too alluring to a man who shouldn't be staring at all, but was anyways. A man who really, really shouldn't be here. But was anyways.

Again, the voice call out again, sharper, with a hint of annoyance even though the mirth still burns bright, still shines through. "Hello?? Am I talking to a statue? Oh, don't tell me I have to bow and call you 'your majesty' to deserve your attention."

Now he really is mocking Peter, mocking the lifestyle of his subjects and his way of life, and he feels himself bristle, sending a glare to the man grinning cockily, looking far too pleased with himself. "You are shameless, and imprudent."

He just shrugs, sending a smug look Peter way, a look Peter does not admire, does not flush at, does not long to see again, under different, much less appropriate situations- "Maybe. But I got what I wanted." He takes a step out of the shelter, staring up at the sky, before tsking and jutting his head towards the structure. "Come in, before it rains."

He follows the man's gaze, seeing the dark, churning clouds layering the sky, low and heavy with precipitation, and with one last glance behind him, one last prayer to the gods above to save him from his sinuous thoughts, a prayer he doesn't know if he truly believes, he seals his fate and quickly shuffles into the house after him, hearing the door creak shut behind him.

It is as small inside the house as it looks on the outside, but surprisingly, a lot more maintained and upkept. There is a tiny, rickety wooden table sat in the corner of the hut, looking more like a slab of wood on four sticks than a genuine table, but seemingly usable none the less as there are books and papers scattered on its surface, two chairs sat on either side. There are some shelves on the walls, covered with jars and tin cans, food ready to preserve for the winter, as well as some candles. Near the middle of the room sits a firepit, charred pieces of wood crackling as a fire roars, a small metal kettle hanging above it from a configured structure of pieces of metal and string. To top it all off, an unstable, uncomfortable looking bed is sat in the other corner, the sheets scattered and tossed, messy and unmade, not unusual for a man who seemed to be unwed (much to Peter's sick, twisted elation). Overall, it wasn't an awful dwelling, not the worst Peter has seen, though it definitely showed the man's status. Not wealthy, definitely not wealthy, but not a peasant. Middle class.

"Tea?" The man grabs the kettle off of the contraption, raises an eyebrow at him and Peter feels like he can't breath. Due to the upcoming storm, the overcast sky was causing the room to be covered in shadows, the only light coming from the flames which was now illuminating every angle, every corner and shape of the man's sleak face, his jawline looking sharper, cut with heavy shadows underneath, his cheekbones looking more defined, his dark, brewing, mischievous blue eyes glowing in the orange and yellow light, making his stare that much more intense as he seems to stare straight into Peter's soul, almost making him believe the stories the maids tell of homosexuals. That they are witches, the same mages that need to destroyed at all costs, that they are the devil reincarnated. As he stares back at the man, just as intensely, just as heated as the flames tickling at the man's skin, he can't help but to think that if this man is the devil than he surely belongs in hell.

"I shouldn't be here." He blurts out instead of answering him, forcing his eyes away from the enticing scene, from the definition of sin itself standing directly in front of him, deciding to stare at the flames instead, burning, alive as it crackles and flicks and flares, despite the lack of wood for it to feed on. Now that he mentions it, there is barely anything keeping the fire lit, and yet it stays, strong and alive, almost as if it came from the pits of hell itself. It wouldn't surprise Peter if it did.

He hears shuffling, light footsteps as the man walks away, towards where the shelves were hooked on the walls, and he hears the clinking of ceramic and the sound of pouring liquid before the luring melody of the siren rings out again, calm, teasing. "Oh? Why shouldn't you be?"

He feels himself blush, feels the heat rise to his cheeks, but he lifts his chin proudly, squares his shoulders, sets his jaw, reconnects their eyes, even as it causes his heart to stutter, sharing into those piercing, calculating eyes, the man standing by the shelving with a cup in his hand. "Show no weakness," his father had taught him a while ago as one of the first rules given to him in training, "no matter who you are with and what you are doing. In battle, or out. A king must never look weak in the eye of his subjects."

"For many reasons." He keeps his voice calm, steady, strong, even as it begs to quiver. "A king shouldn't stray from his kingdom, for one-"

"But you are not a king." The man interupts abruptly, tilting his head and quirking a brow. "You are a prince, are you not?"

"I am a future king," Peter reminds, presses, feeling irritation spark at his blatant lack of manners. But he refuses to let it get to him, refuses to let his man get under his skin so easily. "So the rule still applies. There is also the fact that I shouldn't be talking to my subjects unless stated otherwise-"

"Not one of your subjects. Out of your kingdom, remember?" The man's grin is feral, blinding as he takes a gulp of his tea, his throat bobbing as he swallows and licking his lips afterwards.

Peter averts his eyes, ignoring the lick of heat pooling in his gut and pushing through, trying to seem unconcerned, unbothered as he refuses to respond to the interuption. "-And nevermind how I should have guards surrounding me at all moments, in case of an attempt on my life, or of how I should be in my room, studying, or on the grounds, training, practicing, should be talking to mother, helping sister, or-"

Is- is he laughing? He is, the bastard! The soft chuckles fill the room, low, breathy but real, rumbling from deep in the man's chest, clasping his mug close as the laugher shakes his whole body, his eyes closing for a second before reopening and sending a brash look his way.

"Do you realize how idiotic you sound?"

Peter huffs, allowing his irritation to overcome him as he puffs out his chest subconciously, defensively, sending a heated glare to the man, his voice booming as he declares, "Do you have any idea who you are talking to?"

"Ah, yes." He places his mug onto the rickety table, having it tilt slightly under the weight of the ceramic, and takes a step towards Peter, head tilted, eyes focused, intense, looking almost predatory, a natural aura of confident combating against Peter's forced one. And, as Peter shivers under his stare, his breath catching in his throat and his heart beating like a horse riding a knight into battle, it seems the man's aura is winning. He knows it too, his feral grin returning, showing his teeth.

"Prince Peter Parker Stark of the Iron Kingdom, born from King Anthony Edward Stark and Queen Virginia Potts Stark, brother to Princess Morgan Alexandra Stark." He takes another step forward, standing tall, firm, assertive, dominant, and Peter forces his feet to stay planted, his chin to stay up, his eyes to stay connected, even as he wants to step back, lower his head and submit. "Yes, I know who you are."

He takes another step forward, and is now breaching Peter's personal space, clothed chests almost touching and noses almost rubbing in their proximity, warm breath brushing against his lips each time that the man's exhales, and Peter feels weak, so weak and so wrong, this is wrong, but he refuses to show it, refuses to let this demon, this trickster, this tempter (because that's what he was, The Tempter, the Devil Himself, he had to be), win this silly game he is playing. "But the real question you should be asking, your highness," And there it is again, the mockery, the disrespect, the tease that shouldn't make him burn brighter than the flames illuminating the room, shouldn't make him feel hotter than the sun herself, but does anyways. "Is, do you know who you are talking to?"

Peter swallows again, roughly, trying to school his expression, trying to suppress his emotions, his awful, vile arousal, and ignoring his embarassment at the fact that the man is right. Peter doesn't know who he is, barely knowing the stories he's heard through the grapevine of the man that wanders past the border, and he feels his insides tighten with shame at the fact that he followed a stranger's invitation into their house, not knowing anything about them or their intentions, just based off of a feeling, a pull. Maybe he is idiotic.

But he doesn't share that. Can't share any of that, can't look weak in front of this man. So, he pushes through again, voice shakier than he would have liked. "If you know who I am, then maybe you should show me some respect."

The man's grin widens at his lack of an answer, but his eyes narrow, intensify, and Peter could have sworn that they glowed for a second, a harsh, neon blue alight with a fire, a heat that sends Peter reeling, breathless, longing, god he wants, but it's gone before Peter can blink. "Another question then, sir," He leans closer then, their noses touching, breath mixing, lips almost brushing, almost rubbing against each other as he murmurs low, "If you shouldn't be here, than why did you come?"

He doesn't hear the question, not really, his mind all over the place but definitely elsewhere as he feels himself shake, feels himself want with all of his being as he practically tastes this man he's been so magnetized to, so drawn to since he first laid eyes on him at that damned celebration, and he feels his resolve crumbling, piece by piece, brick by brick much like the very dwelling they are stood in, until he just can't take it anymore, and leans forward, filling the infinitesimal gap between them, letting out a light gasp as he feels his lips burn, tingling with a pressured heat as the man doesnt even hesitate, pushing, pressing back against him with a hunger almost parallel to Peter's own. He feels the lips part, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, causing him to softly whine at the shot of pain that feels electric through his overwhelming pleasure, and then a tongue is coaxing his lips apart, and Peter finally, finally feels himself let go, give in, submitting to this man and letting him do as he pleases. Peter tilts his head as their tongues dance, the mans tongue roaming and searching around his mouth, mapping each nook and cranny as if he found a new land, a new world to explore, and he feels himself getting pressed backwards, back, back until hes against the frame of the house, body encased in the other man's heat, surrounded by him, their chests together, Peter's head framed by the man's arms, his hands grabbing and pulling at Peter's hair, one of his legs slotting between Peters own. Their arousals brush against each other in the process, causing a delicious, sinful friction that has Peter swallowing the other man's low moan, almost growl, the noise echoing over and over in his head and he wants more, more, more.

He feels his hands grasping at the back of the man's loose shirt, tugging and pulling as they finally pull their lips apart to breathe, his lung aching, burning, cooling instantly as Peter pants, gasping in rich, fresh air as the man moves his lips down, down, down, kissing his cheek, his jaw, under his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. One of Peter's hands roams up his back, feeling each knot and bone of the man's spine as he reaches up, interlocking his fingers with the man's shaggy, unruly blond locks, tugging slightly as the man kisses a sensitive spot, the crook between his neck and collarbone, making Peter suck in a shaky breath and buck involuntarily against the mans hip. The man moans again, louder this time, the sound vibrating against his neck as he begins to suck, nip and lick at the area, making Peter whine and whimper, foreign, unfamiliar feelings sparking through his body, making him unsure, nervous, but the anxiousness washes away as soon as it came, the man biting down hard and Peter crying out and bucking again, gasping for the precious, precious air that keeps escaping his lungs. Peter's never felt like this before, never felt this heat, this longing, this lust for someone, and God strike him down, but he wants more. These feelings, this closeness alone is amazing, but he cant help but to imagine what it would be like if they were closer, closer, as close together as they could be, held together in a way only they could see, only they could feel, until nothing else mattered. Oh God, that would be incredible, remarkable, perfect-

And so, so wrong. What is wrong with him?!? This is wrong!

His realization strikes just as the man (a man, he is doing this with a man) ruts back against him, making them both moan as another sick, twisted bout of pleasure runs through him, his body shuttering with its intensity. He immediately grabs the mans shoulders and pushes him off of him at full force, sending him across the room but he seems to catch himself against the opposite wall, Peter only having caught a glimpse of the moment before he turned his head away from the beast, the Witch, Wizard, whatever he was, trying to catch his breath as the full reality of their situation, of what they had done crashes into him like the oceans waves he saw once as a kid, tumbling, crashing, roaring under his skin.

"You- you Mage! What have you done?!?" He feels his body shaking, the harsh cold winter of regret and disgust curl in his gut, freezing his insides and making his eyes burn, his vision blur. "What did you do to me?!?"

"You felt it too." He hears the man murmur as a responce, his voice no long strong, cunning, witty, but instead breathless, shaky, awed. "The pull, the longing, you feel it too-"

"I feel nothing!" He roars back, almost spitting at the implication of the man's words, knowing it's not true, it couldn't be true.

"Then why did you kiss me?" He sneers, and Peter can hear the floorboards groan as the man shifts, pushing off of the wall he was leaning against for support, but Peter refuses to look back in his direction, refuses to acknowledge the siren who lured him into his trap, and made him do his bidding. He had to have, he had to have controled him, had to have made him do this. Peter couldn't have wanted this, he couldn't have. Peter hears footsteps, the man approaching again, his voice strengthening again, laced with an urgency, a warning. "Then why did you come? I bet if any one of your other subjects were to invite you to their home you wouldn't have come, would have deemed it too dangerous, too much risk, not enough reward, so why would you come here?" He's halfway across the room now, and Peter places a hand on the hilt of his knife sheathed in his belt, at the ready just in case this man comes too close, or decides to attack. "I know you've heard of the tales. Two souls binded together, tethered to each other in life and in death-"

"Enough-"

"So that they will always meet again, no matter where they are, no matter the time, no matter the length of travel, pulled together by an invisible string until they are at each others side, and only then will they feel like home. I know you know they exist, your mother and father are examples, you know this exists, you know what this is-"

"ENOUGH!" He lashes out, grabbing his knife out of the sheath and pressing it to the man's neck in a matter of seconds, blinking the tears out of his eyes, lips drawn up in a snarl. He swears that he sees the man's eyes flash again, that same, unnatural neon blue for a second, before his eyes return to their deeper, sea blue, wide and almost frightened, pleading. Peter grits his teeth, feeling a deep ache at the sight but ignores it, just like he ignores how his hand is shaking, causing the knife to bouncing on the man's neck. "That is an old wise tale mothers tell to their children to help them sleep, nothing more. You are a tempter, a demon meant to try and lure me into hell, and your- your tricks won't work on me anymore!"

The man's swallows, but he maintains eyes contact, his eyes hard and blazing, as he keeps his head up, chin up, and mutters harshly, "And you are in denial. You wanted it as much as I did and you know it-" He coughs as Peter presses the knife further into his neck, trickles of blood trailing down the length and pooling by his collarbone.

"I wanted no such thing!" He growls out shakily, ignoring the pang of pain in his heart at the sight of blood, ignoring the worsening tremor of his hand, ignoring the tears now falling down his face. "You are a lying, manipulating witch," A silent sob breaks his words, but he shakes his head, trying to stay strong and composed (don't show weakness, don't show weakness), and continuing with a semi steadier but still broken voice. "And you will let me go, now, before I push this knife into your throat."

The man takes a deep breath, and raises his hands in a surrender, a mercy, taking a step away from Peter and the knife. "Okay. I'm not trying to hurt you, your majesty." Theres no malice in his words this time, no teasing, no mockery. He's being completely earnest, eyes serious, but caring, and Peter's insides twist and churn because of it, feeling some semblance of guilt and that sinful, ruinous longing making him feel sick, nauseous, his stomach in knots.

He holds the knife up for a few moments longer as they stare at each other, the man calm and collected, but pleading, begging for something from Peter, something Peter cannot, won't give, and Peter shaking like a leaf, breaking down slowly but surely, feeling his sins crawling over his back, wrapping around his neck like a noose and choking him in their grip, before dropping it down to his side, sobbing silently again. He needs to get out of here, get away from his man, away from his heinous crimes, away from his thoughts and feelings, away from it all. He goes to open the door, to run away and never, ever come back, but right as he grabs the knob of the door, a soft voice fills the air, the only other sound outside of the flickering flame and Peters shaky breaths in the room.

"Harley." The man now sounds as broken as Peter feels, and it causes Peter to hesitate, feeling a surge of protectiveness he shouldn't feel, a want to turn around and hold him close, protect him from all harm. He ignores the urge, just standing frozen in the doorway as the man continues, sniffling slightly. "My name is Harley Keener."

Peter feels a multitude of emotions at the knowledge presented to him. It's just a name, simple, but it's the weight of the situation and the show of trust this man is putting into him that makes his emotion spiral. But he does nothing with it. Doesn't nothing about it. He can't. Instead, he opens the creaking, old, dirty, dusty door, and walks out quickly, intending to get as far away from here as physically possible, the pouring rain mixing with his salty tears and soaking him to the bone, as if the sky is trying to clean him of his sins with holy water.

He didn't turn back, even as he felt his crystal blue gaze searing into him all the back to the castle, ignoring the pull in his chest trying to tug him back into the man, into Harley Keener's arms. He ignores it all, gripping the slippery, rough edges of the bricks of the castle and climbing up to his room, to his window, and climbing in, shutting the wooden blinds behind him and locking them, ensuring that nobody could get in behind him. Ensuring that he could not get back out.

Peter bangs his head against the now covered window, shivering from the ice cold precipitation that drenched him. He feels sick, and dirty, and so, so wrong. Why had he gone? He could have ignored it, could have ignored the pull, the yearning, the tug of the string. He could have been good. But now... Now, what was he?

Because as much as he wishes it weren't true, Harley had been right. Peter had wanted it as much as Harley had. Peter had wanted all of it. The feeling of his lips on his own, the feeling of their bodies pressed together, of their heat shared, combined, intertwined together, he had wanted it all. He still wants it all. He yearns to go back to the house at the edge of the forest, to hold the man in his arms and to never, ever let him go again. Does that make him the devil? Does that make him sick, and twisted, and wrong?

Another sob breaks out of his mouth, this one audible, the sound cutting through the eery silence of his room like a newly made sword, and he slides down the wall, almost collapsing onto the floor in his own puddle of excess water dripping off of him, mostly from the rain, but partially from his tears. He is sick, isn't he? He wasn't lured, or enchanted by Harley, wasn't forced into what he had done. He did it willingly, longingly, and that make him the scum of the earth. Made him worth less than even the lowest of presents, the worst of thieves.

What if Father finds out, about his traitorous feelings? Or Mother? What would happen then?

He already knows what would happen. They would banish him, sentence him to death without question for his acts, say he was a beast, a mage, a human no longer. Anything for the kingdom. Anything to protect their subjects. Even if it meant offing their own son, the only hier to the throne. They would be better off without a sinning son, an unworthy king after all.

He curls further into himself, his wails echoing throughout the loud, almost empty room. He is sure some of the servants could hear him, hear his weakness, but he doesn't care. Not anymore. He was a sinner, a demon, a monster.

God, what has he done?

#parkner #parley #spiderlad #harley keener/peter parker #harley keener #peter parker #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #mcu #royalty AU #royalty au #READ THE TAGS #read the tags

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hiddleloki · 6 years

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Masterpost of Dadneto and Quickson fics

Because let’s be real, we all need them. They fill my heart with warmth and joy while the movies continue to tear it apart. UPDATED AS OF 19TH JULY (the newest/latest included fanfics are at the bottom of the post)

Somewhere Like Bolivia by iberiandoctor (jehane), Words: 8175 (COMPLETE) After Cairo, after the school is rebuilt, Erik has every reason to leave. Charles and Peter think about giving him a reason to stay.

To Boldly Dress (Like Those Who Might Have Gone Before) by iberiandoctor (jehane) (COMPLETE) Erik doesn’t do Halloween costumes. Peter and Charles try to change his mind.

Humanity by palmtreedragons, Words: 3676 (COMPLETE) Peter and his father were as different as two people could possibly be. But, heck, they're still family, and family sticks together, or whatever. Spans pre-FC to post-XMA

Immediate Family by Glass Shoe, Words: 175534 (COMPLETE) This is the story of how Peter Maximoff loses his mother, reconnects with his father, and finds something that he didn't know he'd lost in the first place.

That’s My Boy by oneiromancer242, Words: 1113 (COMPLETE) Erik is terribly proud of his son - as Charles and Raven are about to find out.

Peter Maximoff: a Loving Son Who Couldn’t Have Brought Up That Fact Sooner by Blueci1234, Words: 4848 (COMPLETE) Peter was a tiny bit angry that he was going to die before telling Magneto that the all powerful ex-horseman-of-the-Apocalypse-and-a-giant-frienemy-slash-love-interest-of-Charles-Xavier named Erik Lehnsherr contributed as a sperm donor (not really) to the birth of the great-not-so-great Quicksilver circa 1960 c.e., the time of mutants.

Erik Lehnsherr and His Rotten Luck with His Children by Blueci1234, Words: 2208 (COMPLETE) - SEQUEL TO PETER MAXIMOFF: A LOVING SON WHO COULDN’T HAVE BROUGHT UP THAT FACT SOONER What do you do when your children die?

Vati by naasad, Words: 254 (COMPLETE) Erik Lehnsherr is a man of many names.

A Million And One by Sam the Wise, Words: 1186 (COMPLETE) Peter tells Erik the truth, and that changes things.

Best - Laid Plans by rebecca-in-blue, Words: 2046 (COMPLETE) "Erik recognizes him immediately: the silver-haired mutant boy who broke him out of prison." My take on Erik, Mystique, and Peter post-Days of Future Past.

Peter, I Am Your Father by Queen_Valkyrie, Words: 5576 (COMPLETE) Peter Maximoff knows he should tell Magneto, big-bad-but-not-that-bad-all-the-time-I-can-sense-there-is-good-in-him-Charles-always-insists-terrorist-guy, that he's Peter's father. But it's painfully difficult to bring himself to do so.

A Knife In The Gut by Queen_Valkyrie, Words: 3081 (COMPLETE) - sequel to Peter, I Am Your Father "Every smile Peter warily offered him, every joke made at his expense, every midnight conversation pained him like a knife twisting in his gut." After Erik finds out the truth about the young man who once helped break him out of the Pentagon, he tries to connect with his son. Things don't exactly go according to plan.

That Whole Father/Son Thing by mysterytour, Words: 3054 (COMPLETE) Part of Erik doesn’t wasn’t to climb out of the well of depression and live in the world without Nina and Magda. How can he smile or laugh again when they can never smile or laugh ever again? He feels like ash caught in the chimney stacks. Everything is exhausting. Peter and Erik bond over food. Erik and Jean bond over tomato plants. Jean and Peter bond over prog rock.

Bad With Names by Cyane, Words:1469 (COMPLETE) Erik sighed. "Pietro-"He froze. Jesus Christ, did he just call him Pietro?!

The Day will Dawn by Cyane, Words: 11227 (COMPLETE) Four times someone else was there for Peter, and the one time Erik was.

We Live in a Beautiful World by Cyane, Words: 8405 (COMPLETE) His heart was screaming at him, telling him that he couldn't save all those people. He couldn't save his precious Nina, he couldn't save his lovely wife. He couldn't save any of them- he didn't. He lost that chance. What remained of his family was dead. Everyone. But he had the chance to save Peter.

The Five Times Peter Called Him Dad, And The One Time He Meant It by thecattydddy, Words: 5183 (COMPLETE) Peter Maximoff has known that Erik is his dad for a while now, but knowing something and admitting something are two very different thing.Classic Exactly What It Says on the Tin.

Silver by thecattydddy, Words: 1609 (COMPLETE) Peter's about to die and as he stares up into the face of death, he can't help but wish they had been wrong about his father. That they had just misunderstood, but it was becoming apparent by every second ticking by that they had been right. Erik Lehnsherr - Magneto - was nothing more than a monster.

Woodstock 83 by blarfkey, Words: 7373 (COMPLETE) Peter's mouth runs just about as fast as his legs. No secret is safe from him! Except his own, apparently. The Universe hands him opportunities to confess on a silver platter and Peter just cannot freaking spit it out.

The Sun Will Shine When Morning Comes by blarfkey, Words: 5352 (COMPLETE) - SEQUEL TO WOODSTOCK 83 If Erik and Peter were a Venn diagram, their circles would not intersect. Erik thanks God every day for it. Peter has no temper. He has no rage, no tragedy. He is light where Erik is a shadow. Right now he is moaning piteously on the couch because his medicine has worn off and his headache has returned. “I’m dying,” Peter croaks. “Dad, I’m dying. I’m not gonna make it. I’m going to the spirit in the sky.” Erik rolls his eyes. There is a certain twisting in his gut, both thrilling and painful every time Peter calls him “dad.” It snags like a hook.

Jail Break by blarfkey, Words: Words:5717 (COMPLETE) It's totally normal in Suburban America for the dad to pick up his rebellious teenager from jail, right? Even when it's the Pentagon instead of the local police station, and your dad is a Mutant Supremacist Assassin and America's Most Wanted who didn't post bail so much as murdered all the guards? Whatever. Peter will take what he can get at this point, even if it means the most painfully awkward road trip in the history of the universe.

Two Lonely Souls In A Fish Bowl by blarfkey, Words: 14033 (COMPLETE) - SEQUEL TO JAIL BREAK There are tons of fun activities in Peter’s new life at Westchester. You know, like the never ending cleaning and dusting of all four floors of that gigantic mansion, trying to arrange Charles’ old clothes into outfits that wouldn’t get Peter’s ass kicked in a theoretical high school, getting home-schooled by a genius telepath who always knows when Peter cheats, and Peter’s favorite: midnight visits from his crazy terrorist father who may not be as awful or crazy as Peter thought.

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right by blarfkey, Words: 15735 (COMPLETE) - SEQUEL TO JAIL BREAK & TWO LONELY SOULS IN A FISH BOWL “Look man,” Peter says, “you don’t wanna fuck with me, ‘kay? My – my dad’s gonna find me, he’s gonna kick your ass. He’ll kill everyone in the building. He’s fuckin’ nuts.” The Man smirks. “Aren’t you a little old to be depending on your old man to save you?” Before Peter can give a witty retort, The Man pats his cheek and leaves. No one is going to come for him. He is going to die here. Alone.

Shine On You Crazy Diamon by blarfkey, Words: 24335 (COMPLETE) - SEQUEL TO JAIL BREAK & TWO LONELY SOULS IN A FISH BOWL & CLOWNS TO THE LEFT OF ME, JOKERS TO THE RIGHT Five years later, Peter has gotten his college degree and settled into life as a P.E. teacher at Charles' school. He's got his whole routine mapped out: combat training with Erik and Raven in the mornings, running the Baby Mutants ragged on the field until they start planning his assassination in the afternoons, mixed in with calling Hank every variation of "nerd" American slang can provide and staring at Raven's butt when she's too busy to kick him in the throat. After all the crazy shit he's had to go through, he finds comfort in this new-found stability, even if it means he's officially a Boring Adult who shops for prunes and wheat bread. And then Wanda blows up a car.

Luke, I am your father! by PalauMaggot, Words: 2365 (COMPLETE) Okay seriously. He could have done so much better than that. Facing off with his father who gave him the best line to come clean about being related to him and he goes and says, ‘I’m here for family too.’ Yeah it’s serious and the truth and vague and everything else but come on. The guy had his wife and only child (that he knew about) killed in front of him. So he guessed that springing the whole “You have a son!” on him during the ending of the world probably would have done more harm than good. Erik might have thought they were trying to manipulate him or something. OR: How Peter tells Erik that he's sort of his long lost son.

Like Father, Like Son by leahx, Words: 4191 (COMPLETE) Peter Maximoff might not have his father's name, but evidently, he has more than enough of the infamous Lehnsherr genes, including the ones that will one day be responsible for Charles' inevitable breakdown. Or the time, after the Apocalypse, when Peter screws up and accidentally ups the population of Lehnsherr/Maximoff-ville to plus one. And Charles isn't amused.

7 Tries by krispool, Words: 741 (COMPLETE) The 7 or so tries it takes Peter to talk to his father.

And from the ashes of their world, we’ll build a better one by AryYuna, Words: 25946 (COMPLETE) “She’d never really allowed herself to think about coming back to Westchester, lest she’d end up abandoning everything in exchange for the safety of that place. The mission was too important, more than her comfort, more than everything. Safety was for the others, for the dreamers like Charles, for the kids she rescued, but someone had to live in the real world so that others could hide – her brother, Erik, Hank.” Apocalypse has destroyed everything, but they can repair it. Together.

Late Again by Bravo_48, Words: 70931 (COMPLETE) The "Apocalypse Incident" has taken its toll on Erik Lehnsherr as the aftermath of the battle has left him hollow and lost on what to do with his life. He's been from a wanted terrorist to playing the role of a henchmen to a god, but nothing felt as important to him as being a father, but even that ended with tragedy. Bless Charles' heart of gold for helping him piece himself together, but he still feels so lost........ Peter Maximoff has always lived for the thrill (and speed) of life, but that doesn't mean he can always handle it. It took him a week for his brain to register that "Magneto" was his father and a month to fully accept it. The guy didn't seem so bad. Without Erik, Peter would have never found out how to break into highly secured prisons or how great it is to be an X-Men! Too bad Erik doesn't know how much of an impact he created in Peter's life... Funny part is that even with his ludicrous speed, Peter always seems too late to tell him so. (And always picks the worst times to try.) Especially when his life decides to turn upside-down in the process.

It’s Not So Black And White by Nishloo, Words: 6913 (STILL UPDATING) Peter Maximoff is an already complicated kid - boy turned x-men, a plethora of night terrors, and the inability to look his father in the eyes. When can a guy get a break? or Peter is an angsty teen with some major PTSD who can't tell Erik he's his son.

Grace Under Pressure by IreneADonovan, Words: 604 (COMPLETE) Father- son bonding over good music and bad beer. Set at least a year after Apocalypse.(The album Peter's listening to came out in September of 1984.) Peter has finally told Erik he's his dad, and Erik has returned to the mansion to see him.

Better Men and Better Beer by IreneADonovan, Words: 451 (COMPLETE) - sequel to Grace Under Pressure Bonding, act two.

Power Windows (aka The Road Trip) by IreneADonovan, Words: 226 (COMPLETE) - Sequel to Grace Under Pressure & Better Men and Better Beer Just a little set-up scene for the road trip...

Manhattan Project by IreneADonovan, Words: 1548 (COMPLETE) - Sequel to Power Windows Erik and Peter make their first stop of the road trip in Hell's Kitchen...

Grand Designs by IreneADonovan, Words: 507 (COMPLETE) - Sequel to Power Windows & Manhattan Project Erik and Peter share a moment on the road...

Emotion Detector by IreneADonovan, Words: 566 (COMPLETE) - Sequel to Power Windows & Manhattan Project & Grand Designs A little more father/son interaction, post-XMA...

Peter is Going To Tell Erik, Really...by ChasingAfterMidnight, Words: 4702 (COMPLETE) Peter thinks the secret of his parentage is safe, until Charles announces that Erik is going to be living at the mansion from now on. How long can Peter keep Erik from knowing? Just until the time is right... He'll definitely tell him. Totally.

Glowing Embers by Magnolie, Words: 5719 (COMPLETE) How do we move on from a shattered life? How do we rebuild bonds, trust and friendship? How do we go on, carrying those we have lost with us? There is no one right answer to these questions, but returning to those we love, endowing them with small acts of kindness and finding ways to fit in again is. Picks up right after the end of X-Men: Apocalypse and follows Erik, Charles, and the rest of their new-found family as fathers and sons grow closer and feelings that have long been forgotten slowly begin to bloom again.

Bonding by ontaunt, Words: 710 (COMPLETE) Peter finally tells Erik.

Let Yourself Fall Ill by valancysnaith, Words: 23763 (COMPLETE) Narrative blank spaces/missing scenes post-XMA. Erik comes down from a metal-high, gardens. Jubilee deserved better. Raven drinks too much, spills secrets. PSYLOCKE.

Hanging in the Stars by porcelainsimplicity, Words: 49769 (COMPLETE) note: if you want a good father/son bonding moments, along with the revelation, this one’s for you As En Sabah Nur faded from existence, Erik slowly floated down until his feet hit the ground and he could finally let go.

What Would You Have Me Do? by WhatTheWentz, Words: 860 (COMPLETE)

Peter Has Daddy Issues by Forever_A_Thief, Words: 10807 (COMPLETE) X-Men Days of Future Past through Peter Maximoff's eyes. Peter doesn't know who his dad is, but when guys show up talking about a guy who can control metal, he knows he has to check it out. But Peter definitely has some issues with the guy that turns out to be his dad...

Things That Travel Faster Than the Truth by d__aia, Words: 1597 (COMPLETE) Elizabeth meets Erik’s son.

You ARE the Father by Justbrowsing, Words: 862 (COMPLETE) Erik learns that Peter is his son.

whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one by murdershewrote, Words: 442 (COMPLETE) That day in Cairo, Peter can’t bring himself to introduce himself to his father, so instead he tells Magneto about his daughter.

Timestretch (Close Your Eyes And Count To (Mach) 5) by Marvelite5Ever, Words: 68838 (COMPLETE) Time stretches, reality alters, and Peter tries to tell Erik that they're related.

Something Rather Wonderful by GinnyGinger, Words: 2585 (COMPLETE) "So you'll rather go your whole life wondering?" Erik asked and damn if that wasn't a question Peter had asked himself enough already. Peter Maximoff has for months been trying to work up the courage to tell Erik the truth. Maybe today is the day.

Here For My Family (here for you) by PotterheadAvengerDemigod, words: 1364 (COMPLETE) “I’m your son!” Peter squeaks out. “Don’t kill me!”

I Miss You, I Miss You, I Miss You More by afrocurl, Words: 2108 (COMPLETE) It's only so awkward to divulge a big secret in the middle of other emotional trauma, but that's the only option Peter sees right now.

Peter’s ‘Terrible but Some Good Kind of Comes Out of it’ Day by SuperAwesomePandaKitty, Words: 20164 (COMPLETE) Set two weeks after X-Men Apocalypse, Peter's leg has finally healed. The Professor has a mission this evening but Hank doesn't want peter to go on any missions just yet as he still wants Peter to take it easy for at least a week so he's on babysitting duty. Wanda has no powers in this one, there's also a ten year age gap between them.

Peter’s Stepdad by nzeedee, Words: 30043 (COMPLETE) Peter takes his time to observe and learn more about Erik as he works up the courage to make a family connection. Soon he realizes that Charles is a valuable asset in Erik's life and they may come as a unified pair.

A Million Little Gods Causing Rainstorms by Inkjade, Words: 25704 (COMPLETE) Charles rolls forward for another few feet, looks back. “I wouldn’t be asking if I had better options,” he says quietly. Then he waits. He doesn’t need to say more: the weight of all that Erik owes him is pressing against the very air. “Verdammt,” Erik mutters, but follows.

Birthday Gift by still_lycoris, Words: 1109 (COMPLETE) Peter doesn't mind if Erik doesn't come to his birthday party. Honest.

Sweet Dreams (aren’t made of what you’d think) by rimle, Words: 32484 (MISSING LAST CHAPTER) Charles convinces Erik to stay and train the x-men. He soon finds himself falling for his old friend. Meanwhile, Peter is trying to spend more time with his father, struggling to tell him the truth about his lineage. Erik misunderstands the boy's attention as somethings else, and eventually turns to Charles for help.

Little Monster by Quicker Than Silver, Words: 48387 (COMPLETE) When Peter goes missing his mother contacts Charles who in turn contacts Erik in the hopes of convincing his friend to carry out a rescue. What happens however when Peter's true parentage comes to light? How will the other mutants, especially Erik, react to the news? Set after XM-DOFP

Patience by RobineBlack, Words: 1450 (COMPLETE) It was a well-known fact that Peter Maximoff didn’t do patience. Or slow. But he knew that when he would tell Erik that he had another family, patience would definitely be needed.

Holiday Dadneto by Queen_Valkyrie, Words: 4589 (COMPLETE) Through Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, Peter and Erik get to know each other a little better and build their relationship as father and son.

Crystal Ball by oneiromancer242, Words: 1131 (COMPLETE) Magda gives Erik something very precious to take care of.

Daddy Issues by glanmire, Words: 7170, (COMPLETE) I have a son," Erik says from the rubble. He truly is the master of dramatic entrances. or, That time Erik got wasted and crashed into the side of the mansion.

Daddy Killed The President by mokonahapuuuuuu, Words: 937 (COMPLETE) It's not everyday the guy who shot the president's your dad.

Running Time by mokonahapuuuuuu, Words: 460 (COMPLETE) Time was running out. Well, more for Peter than for him...

Fathers, Sons and Brothers by thefuzzyone123, Words: 105619 (COMPLETE) Dadneto fic! Erik aka Magneto discovers he is a father. Set a year on from X-men: first class. Can Erik rescue his son from imprisonment before it's too late?

Get him! by oneiromancer242, Words: 2704 (COMPLETE) Mistakes can be very destructive when made in a houseful of superpowered kids, and sometimes, everyone finds that out the hard way. Pure silliness.

Premature Grays by monkeygirl77, Words: 4557 (COMPLETE) Having Peter as your son is no easy task. However, Erik finds that he would never trade it for anything in the world, even if the boy insists on giving him grays before the age of 40. Or, the many moments of Erik and Peter; where they are most certainly Father and Son.

Sick Day by oneiromancer242, Words: 6666 (COMPLETE) We all get sick, some of us needing a little more TLC than others. Lucky that Peter has his devoted Dadneto to look after him.

Sins of the Father by movieholic, Words: 11425 (COMPLETE) In which Erik Lehnsherr learns that he is, in fact, the father.

Strangers by oneiromancer292, Words: 24298 (STILL UPDATING) Erik isn't usually the first to figure things out - but just for once, when a boy comes to rescue him from the Pentagon, he gets there first. Slight AU from a reader prompt, plenty of Dadneto and Teen!Peter.

Tested by oneiromancer292, Words: 1645 (COMPLETE) Erik doesn't think his son is ready for combat. The only way to find out is to try out his moves in the training room himself. Short, not entirely serious Dadneto one-shot for a reader prompt.

The Beginning Of Something Familiar by HawkDramione, Words: 10705 (COMPLETE) Post Apocalypse. Quicksilver paid Magneto a quick visit before he left, struggling to save his relationship with his father and to fix his troublesome family.

Best I can by oneiromancer292, Words: 1643 (COMPLETE) There's nothing worse than being by yourself and feeling left out on a special day. Erik tries to make it right.

Protection by Neocolai, Words: 389 (COMPLETE) Thoughts on what might have been running through Erik's mind during the scene with En Sabah Nur and Quicksilver.

Broken Wing by Neocolai, Words: 1973 (COMPLETE) In the aftermath, Erik tends to the wounded and Peter almost confesses. (Part 2 in the Protection series)

Troublesome Patiens by Neocolai, Words: 894 (COMPLETE) Peter doesn't take well to lying in bed all day. Magneto accidentally helps. (Part 3 in the Protection series)

Stay by Neocolai, Words: 652 (COMPLETE) Peter doesn't want him to go. Erik doesn't have time to argue. (Part 4 in the Protection series)

Called Back by Neocolai, Words: 1640 (COMPLETE) Magneto had no intention of returning to the academy. Plans change. (Part 5 in the Protection Series)

Strike Out by Neocolai, Words: 463 (COMPLETE) Erik tries to appreciate Peter's effort. He really does. Some kids just can't take constructive criticism. (Part 6 in the Protection Series)

Oblivious by Neocolai, Words: 383 (COMPLETE) Erik still doesn't get it. (7th in the Protection Series)

Little Misfits by Neocolai, Words: 1314 (COMPLETE) Charles finally intervenes. (8th in the Protection Series)

Safe by Neocolai, Words: 1612 (COMPLETE) Erik checks up on his newest charge. (9th in the Protection Series)

Little Lost Bird by Neocolai, Words 931 (COMPLETE) Peter wants to know about his little sister. (10th in the Protection Series)

Newspapers and the Uses Thereof by Neocolai, Words: 783 (COMPLETE) Erik takes up the role of father. Peter is not happy. (11th in the Protection Series)

Differences by Neocolai, Words: 1492 (COMPLETE) Peter is impatient. So is Erik. (12th in the Protection Series)

Little Genius by Neocolai, Words: 2463 (COMPLETE) Peter does the math. Literally. (13th in the Protection Series)

Jaded by Neocolai, Words: 7414 (COMPLETE) Peter discovers the memorials for those killed in the Apocalypse, and Charles is forced to mediate between two self-righteous parents. (14th in the Protection Series)

Family DIscussions by Neocolai, Words: 1541 (COMPLETE) Erik plays catch and remains oblivious. (15th in the Protection Series)

Torn From The Nest by Neocolai, Words: 6570 (COMPLETE) Peter has a no good horrible really bad day. Good thing Magneto's looking for him. (16th in the Protection Series)

Welcome to Mutant High by Neocolai, Words: 950 (COMPLETE) Charles thinks Erik should introduce his son to the newest member of the team. Erik wants to trip up his wheelchair. (17th in the Protection Series)

You Have More Family Than You Know by Natileroxs, Words: 624 (COMPLETE) “Oh, my, god, Peter!” She hissed. “Just tell him!” X-men Apocalypse Canon Divergence because Peter should have told Erik the truth. Or at least, someone should've.

Tel Aviv by Glass_Shoe, Words: 5760 (COMPLETE) Peter leaves Cairo in shock, not because he's surprised that the incredible clusterfuck of a rescue operation cooked up by Raven and Hank and the rest of team Prevent World Destruction actually sort of worked, but because he's actually in shock, like, he's shaking and sweaty and pale. You know: shock, because you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs and you can't save the world without someone getting their knee completely shattered by a bald blue demi-god. A prequel to Immediate Family

Sometimes It Helps To Scream by SunnyMimi, Words: 1733 (COMPLETE) Peter was tired of it. For three years in the same vicious circle. Every day these damned missions against the Brotherhood. He was fed up. So, yes, it was time to scream at Magneto.Or...An overdramatic Peter, who thinks it would be a good idea to yell at his diva father during a fight against him.

How to Spend Time With Family by RockerRema13, Words: 27265 (STILL UPDATING) Erik is having a difficult time accepting that his tragic and cursed life now includes a long lost son. Meanwhile, Peter (his son!) seems to be getting along with everyone else at the mansion.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of... by talkativefangirl13, Words: 34493 (COMPLETE) Peter didn’t instantly jump into conclusion when he saw Erik from afar, he’s probably having a relaxing swim or a soothing ‘me time’ contemplating about life and his stupid choices while facing down on the water, literally not moving. Nope this guy’s dying. Or where Peter always saves Erik and that one time Erik tries to saves him.

Never Gonna Be Alone (I Knew I Loved You) by Redrink91, Words: 15417, (COMPLETE) In which there is hurting and healing, and many song lyrics, as Charles and Erik move forward together.

Boogie Woogie Woogie by BananasofThorns, Words: 118 (COMPLETE) "I have a song stuck in my head," Peter said, appearing beside Erik. "Wanna hear?"

hold your head up (to prevent whiplash) by zedille, Words: 18981, (COMPLETE) Peter makes it to Poland in time to save his stepmother and sister. Not that he knew they existed. This is the last place Peter expected Magneto to be. No wonder he’d never found him in all his time searching. Why isn’t Magneto out agitating for mutant rights, or trying to kill Reagan on live television, or living it up at a Renaissance Faire with his cape and armor and helmet, or shacking up with women under a false name and having children — Right. Well.

Revealed by Sophie21011995, Words: 3026; (COMPLETE) After the events of "X-Men Apocalypse" Peter finally finds the Courage to tell Erik that he's his son.

The Great Mix-Up by fairyScorpicus and kraefandoms, Words: 2255, (STILL UPDATING) Erik knows Peter is related to him. All the facts are there: they have the same type of colorblindness, they have the same blood type, Erik's got it all figured out. "Charles." Erik says, sitting up in his bed at three in the morning. "I've figured it out about Peter. I've connected the dots." Charles groans, not bothering to open his eyes as he uses his telepathy. "You haven't connected shit." "I've connected them!" Erik protests. "Peter is my nephew." "No."

From the Ground Up and the Foundations Down by cjr2, Words: 21853, (COMPLETE) While rebuilding the mansion, Erik realizes he's just starting to come to terms with the guilt of having been the one to put Charles in that chair. He's also just starting to come to terms with the fact that something about Charles in a wheelchair is the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

better off without by olivemartini, words: 1743, (COMPLETE) If Erik had thought what his long lost son would look like, he probably wouldn't have thought that they would look like this. Or that they would have a kleptomaniac streak a mile wide. Or that his son's best friend would be blue, and with a tail. But then again, children very rarely match what their parents intend them to be. Erik doesn't think that Peter is overly impressed with the dad he had been dealt, either, so maybe they're even. ~or~the one where Peter finds Erik leaving the academy and stops him by telling him that he's his son

Insult to Injury ft. Dadneto (Peter Maximoff - X-Men) by whumptasticwednesday, Words: 6299 (COMPLETE) If there’s anything Peter Maximoff knew in this moment, it was that not being able to do the one thing your body was genetically enhanced to do, sucked. A lot.

What'd Ya Do? by fairyScorpicus, words: 22688, (STILL UPDATING) Peter was a loser, but losers couldn't break into the Pentagon so if he could maybe he wasn't a loser. Erik isn't dumb. The boy was clearly his son, and looked so much like Magda it hurt. "They told me you can control metal." says the boy. "You know, my mom knew a guy who could do that." and yeah, Erik believes him. ----- Basically: what-if Erik had more than one braincell and figured out Peter was his son?

5 Times People Found Out Peter Smoked, and One Time Peter Told Someone by Isapunk, Words: 2595, (COMPLETE) Peter may seem like a chill calm and collected mutant and even though he seems alright he isn’t always. *Takes place a year after Apocalypse NO Dark Phoenix spoilers! NOW completely edited*

Five Times Quicksilver Doesn’t Tell Magneto He’s His Son and the One Time He Does by evilauthoroverlords, Words: 11855, (COMPLETE) It's not like Peter doesn't want Erik to know that he's his father. He wants to tell him, really ....Next time.

Hermes, god of...Sweet Dreams & Thieves by Webbtrinsic, Words: 10633, (COMPLETE) In which Erik is a good dad, who'd do anything to bring his brainwashed sixteen year old home. And kill Stryker and the freakish doctor who took advantage of his son along the way.

realisations. by steelatoms, Words: 1550 (COMPLETE) Dark Phoenix sort of Fix-It where I actually give these two their well-deserved storyline.

Running. by NaomiPT, Words: 2079 (COMPLETE) Peter was always running from his problems, granted most of them began with 'Erik' and ended in 'Lehnsherr'. After his encounter with Jean, Peter finds himself avoiding people more, but perhaps all he needs is the person he's been avoiding the most. Or better put: Dadneto! Dadneto! Dadneto!

don't go wasting your emotion by zedille, Words: 2894, (COMPLETE) Peter has a few things he'd like to say. (XMDP crackfic/parody/fixit where Peter shows up in New York to call out Erik & give Jean a pep talk)

Mistakes were made. by Quill18, Words: 1214, (STILL UPDATING) DARK PHOENIX SPOILERS! Kurt and Hank Mcoy bring an injured Pietro to Genosha. Magneto reflects on his son and realizes Pietro is best off staying with him. AU/Slight Fix-It Fic.

The Eagle and the Hummingbird by DigestedHuman, Words: 5851, (COMPLETE) "Let's say they get a really special delivery, not like some dirty feathers or dead worms. From a bird god. That's cool. A really cool bird with rainbow feathers with a colorful basket full of eggs, that would grow up to be another bird, any kind of bird that they couldn't have ever thought of and- maybe a big stinky surprise by a lizard, or a puny little-“ “What has that got to do with anything you want to tell me?” Erik was fully annoyed at this point. Peter was talking to him like a child having the talk about bees and butterflies for the first time, and he didn’t like it. Erik clearly wanted to get over with this quickly .---In which Peter thinks he’s prepared, but Erik is not.

More Family Than You Know by leahx, Words: 11116, (STILL UPDATING) “Hank, where are we going?” “You don’t want to know.” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but it was the truth. Had Peter known where Hank was headed before he had boarded the jet, he strongly doubted he would have joined him on this journey. “Why not?” Peter’s alert gaze was fixed on Hank as he waited for his response. Hank sighed, enjoying the last moments of peace. "We're going to Genosha." ...or the fic where Peter, instead of being in a coma for the entire movie, joins Hank on his revenge quest to Genosha, where he's forced to face none other than his father, who may or may not already know the truth about the cheeky speedster.

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