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ditttiii · 4 years

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Brothers Conflict || 02.

Thrust into an already established family, you struggle to find your footing while dodging the advances of seven, incredibly good looking stepbrothers.

Your father marrying, and you suddenly having to live under the same roof with seven step brothers was a royal mess or so you had thought, Because them falling in love with you was so much worse. Or was it?

◈ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Humour, Smut and maybe a little angst. (PG-18) (step brother AU) (They are all adopted, I do NOT support incest, this work is inspired by the popular anime/manga Brothers Conflict)

◈ Pairings: OT7 x Reader (reverse harem)

◈ CHAPTER TWO

WC: 3124

Warnings: Curse Words (sfw)

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There needs to be a limit, you think. A threshold level to how bad a day can go before it ends, or maybe you faint and are left craning into nothingness. Just something to tell you that this is as bad as it can possibly get for you.

You hear Seokjins' concerned voice get drowned by the much louder voice of your best friend, but you don't respond. You realise that you should get up, reassure everyone that you are okay, but you are starting to wonder if you can even salvage the day anymore.

The limit to how embarrassed I can be has hit a new high today.

Groaning and cursing every single god up there, you finally raise your face from the floor, bringing your hand up to scratch your cheeks and rub your eyes, as you purposefully avoid all the gazes that you can feel trained on you.

Wincing you scratch at the burn you feel on your chin from where your face had hit the carpet. The fall could have been a lot worse, but the rug had saved you from the worst of the burnt.

Saved, everything but your dignity that is.

"I am fine," You reassure everybody without looking at anybody; before you turn to Sunmi and squeeze her hand in silent reassurance. Her concerned eyes stay trained on your hunched figure, but at your small smile, she nods, sending a small worried smile back.

Sunmi has been your best friend since middle school. Your friendship blossomed the day she punched another girl in the school washroom for you, the girl; a bully was making fun of you for being a late bloomer, when Sunmi, your schools' resident queen-bee, swooped in like a raging goddess in all her angry glory and gave the girl a black eye.

You still think back to that day with fondness and a slight sense of wariness. Your petite, barbie doll of a best friend could pack quite the punch. It was a reassuring yet scary skill of hers.

Snapped out of your thoughts at the feel of a hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Seokjins’ concerned eyes peering into yours, and exhale out a heavy breath.

Okay, now it can't get any worse.

Maybe you shouldn't feel as reassured as you do with that thought, but you do. The realisation that you have already hit rock bottom when it comes to first impressions is, funnily enough, liberating to you.

At least now, I don't have to worry about if the pitch of my 'hello' is right or not.

Evidently, such frivolous solicitude was no longer a concern of yours. You have risen to higher grounds, where your first impression bar now ranges from psycho to batshit crazy.

Yep, that sounds about right.

A cough snaps you out of your thoughts, and you quickly rise to your feet, with a little help from Sunmi. In your peripheral vision, you see Seokjin’s hands hover uselessly in the air as he stops himself from reaching out to you. Clearly, your earlier responses to his touch had left an impression on him, one that was probably not all that great, you realise.

Wincing at both your embarrassment and the slight sting you feel, you finally swivel your gaze away from the floor and to the six men ahead of you, Seokjin still hovering worriedly by your side, like a concerned mother hen.

If you had any dignity left, you'd have laughed, but as it is—you are probably bordering on crazy, and you don't want to push it.

Not today.

"Umm," You start as your eyes lock with that of one of the brothers who is looking at you with concerned filled eyes and you quickly break your gaze away. Focusing at a point on the floor somewhere by his feet, you bow low and mumble out an "Annyeonghaseyo!"

The words feel foreign on your tongue, even though your best friend is Korean. While you don't live in Korea and aren't Korean, your new extended family is. You know that they know English and originally you had no plans of speaking Korean. But nerves shot, and performance pressure high, the slightly accented greeting tumbled out before you even fully realised what you were saying.

An awkward silence stretches on for a second too long, before the man whose feet you are drilling holes into with your gaze, is bowing and introducing himself.

"Ah, Annyeonghaseyo! I am Kim Namjoon, the fourth oldest brother or well the middle one," Here he flashes you a quick close-lipped smile, and your eyes automatically stray to his dimples.

‘Pretty’

While your eyes are still locked onto his dimples, utterly fascinated by their definition, he continues, "We have been waiting for you, it's a pleasure, to finally meet you Y/N-ssi!" His smile widens as he finishes his greeting, and you want to reply, but your eyes are, again, focused onto his dimples.

'So pretty.'

It's when Sunmi pinches your side subtly that you clear your thoughts, moving your gaze away as you smile back—a soft, genuine curl of your lips.

"Um, sorry I'm late, there was some traffic," Here you wave your hand in the air aimlessly before you realise what you are doing and force it down, biting your lip. "This is my best friend Sunmi, and um it's really nice, to finally be able to meet you all too!" You finish lamely. Your introduction, a mess of stutters and random flailing limbs, leaves your face feeling hotter by the second.

"Finally! We have been waiting to meet our cute little yeodongsaengie all day! I am Jung Hoseok, the third oldest and welcome to the family Y/n-ah!" Greets Hoseok, a bright megawatt smile overtaking his face, as he swoops in and gathers you in a hug. This time though you are ready and without a seconds delay, your hands wrap around Hoseok's back, as you awkwardly pat, unsure of his boundaries.

Hoseok though has no such concern, as his strong, warm hands wrap affectionately around your shoulders, pulling you closer and giving you a proper bear hug. Somehow it doesn't come as a surprise to you that Hoseok would be affectionate, something about his bright smile and sunny disposition had you feeling more comforted and reassured than awkward.

Surrounded by your now brother's warmth, you melt in his arms and for once enjoy the feeling of belonging in someone else's hold except Sunmis’.

"Did you have any problems coming here? I knew one of us should have come to pick you up instead." Hoseok continues, his eyes soft and concerned as they rake over you, keeping you at arm's length, as he checks you for any injuries, and a laugh almost slips out of you at his over the top concern.

"I am fine Hoseok ss—" You pause, hesitant to continue as you think of what you should address him as before you try again, "Hoseok-oppa?"

Your voice comes out soft, questioning and a little hesitant as you look up at Hoseok to see his reaction, but he's grinning. His smile somehow even brighter than it had been before, and then he's pulling you into another hug.

His arms wrapping around your shoulders and softly rocking you from side to side as he coos, "Aish, call me Hobi-oppa, Y/n-ah! That's what all the dongsaengies call me!"

You giggle as your limited Korean knowledge kicks in and you realise he's talking about his younger brothers. A groan echoed from behind him and in response a laugh booms out of Hoseok, as he finally loosens his hold.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he turns to Sunmi, and again introduces himself, Sunmi doing the same.

You watch the interaction with an unfamiliar almost, warm, feeling in your chest. Usually, it would be you introducing yourself to Sunmis' family at Christmas or family vacations for which you'd tag along; and your father was never really home enough to ever meet Sunmi.

So, to finally have someone call you family in front of your best friend, was a simple but strangely comforting thing, and you grin, feeling rapidly more at ease in your brothers embrace.

"Aish Hob-ah! Stop hogging our little yeodongsaeng, will you?" Jin jokingly reprimands, and you chuckle, your grip around Hoseok tightening as you lean into his side.

"Well, it's only fitting; I am going to be her favourite oppa, after all!" He jokes as his head tilts to look at you and he winks. His soft black hair slips low over his forehead, as his shimmery dark eyes sparkle from in between the gaps of his strands. And you smile softly, shaking your head fondly at his antics before you extract yourself from his embrace and move to introduce yourself to the rest of your stepbrothers.

"Min Yoongi, second oldest, Welcome to the family Y/n." You smile and nod, a small 'Thank you oppa,' slipping out as you shake Yoongi's hand. His palm is soft, and a little cold against yours, and your smile widens at the small grin he gives you, blonde locks messy and rumpled as he runs his hand through them.

Turning to look at the other three men in the room, you smile and bow as you greet them too. Your eyes rise when one of them steps forward, bowing to you, his cotton candy pink hair catching the light of the room and shining bright. But what gets your attention is his smile. Full lips curled into quite possibly the sweetest smile you have ever seen in your life, as his eyes turn into two crescent moons.

"Nice to finally meet you, little sister, I am Park Jimin the hyung of the maknaes'" He winks before continuing, "and the fifth oldest one. We have been waiting to meet you for a while now. Glad to have you be a part of our not so little family! It might be a bit overwhelming at times, but know that we are all delighted to have you here." He grins, and you let out a chuckle yourself, comforted and appreciative of his efforts at trying to make you feel more at ease.

"Thank you for welcoming me!I..uh am not the best at first impressions, but I promise I am not always such a clutz." You quip back and watch surprised, as Jimin throws his head back, eyes crinkling into those crescent moons again, as a laugh tumbles out of him. His hands rest on his chest, as he hunches over laughing and you smile, your gaze travelling to his palms and a snort slipping out when you realise his hands much like the rest of him are exceptionally pretty and delicate.

You aren't usually very self-conscious, but surrounded by so many ridiculously attractive people, the insecurity was starting to creep in.

Blessed men.

Shifting your gaze to the last two brothers, you smile, bowing a little as you greet them, but when only silence greets you back, your raise your head, eyes furrowed as you look up to see the last two of your seven step brothers looking at you with disinterest and maybe the slightest bit disdain?

A little more hesitant now, you smile at them again, but receive back even more silence.

An awkward silence stretches on for a while, as you take in their appearance. You already know the names of the youngest two, had painstakingly learned then a week ago when your father had informed you that you'd have to move in with your extended family.

Kim Taehyung, the one with crystal-like cerulean eyes and platinum blonde hair, that was almost silver. Long, messy strands that reached low and covered almost his entire eyes. His face so perfectly chiselled, it was like the gods personally took their time sculpting it, not a single flaw or blemish on his pale, smooth skin.

In any other situation, you'd have gaped and taken your time appreciating the fineness that was his face, but since those crystal blue eyes of his were glaring angry holes into your forehead, you decide not to.

Next time.

Snapping your eyes away from Taehyung; your gaze falls onto the last brother, Jeon Jungkook, the youngest in the family, at least before you came along.

For someone who was only a year older than you, his build was impressively large. Even from under the oversized loose tee he was wearing; you could see his broad shoulders. The t-shirt hugged his pectoral muscles before it loosened over the abbs. Jungkooks, from what you could only assume, abdomen was coiled and defined under the loose shirt he was wearing.

After a few more seconds of awkward silence during which you see Jimin hiss and glare at the duo from the side, you snap back to your senses. Clearing your throat, you twist onto your heels as you look back at Jimin, who stops mid hiss when your eyes catch his before he pushes his signature bright smile your way.

The smile you give him is a little shaky, your awkwardness from before coming back in full force, in response to the two youngest giving you the cold shoulder.

You aren't surprised though; you were expecting some sort of resistance. When your father had pretty much ordered you to move into your new 'mothers' house, you were pretty pissed too. You had then thrown a tantrum, screaming and crying about how unfair he was being. That even as your father, he had no right to uproot your life like that, but no matter what you said he didn't budge.

His decision was final, and so cursing and screaming, a week later here you are, trying your best to be the ideal sister your father expects you to be, as you attempt to accept these seven strangers as your family.

'Life just doesn't give me a break, does it?' You think wryly, letting out a soft sigh when you feel the glares against the sides of your face darken.

Okay then, act like a bunch of pouty little brats, see if I care.

Rolling your eyes at the immaturity, your two older brothers were currently showcasing, you move back to Sunmi who was now talking to Namjoon.

"Your boxes were delivered a few hours ago, we've moved them all up to your room, but we haven't unpacked any. Would you like help with the unpacking? I have to leave for court now, but a few of us are free today, and we'd be more than happy to help." Namjoon offers, his dimpled smile again on full display, and if you were any more juvenile, you'd have called it a personal attack.

Pretty 2x.

Feeling the glares at your back not letting up, you just shake your head. You have a feeling Namjoon is talking about the two overgrown babies who are currently wishing death upon you, but you'd rather have the boxes fall and slowly suffocate you to your demise than have them help.

"It's fine; I can do it. Thank you for sending the boxes up to my room though!" You reply, and Namjoon just ruffles your hair in response. Squealing you try to move away from his reach and groan, fixing your now rats nest of hair.

Chuckling at your apparently hilarious antics Namjoon nods and calls Jimin over, asking him to escort you and Sunmi to your room. You figure since it's still early on in the day, most of them have their jobs to attend to, and will probably take their time to socialise with you later.

You don't mind, the more time you have to get your shit together, the better.

Waving goodbye to Namjoon and everybody else, You, Sunmi and Jimin make your way to the stairs. Why you can't just use the elevator like before, you don't know, but considering it has been less than an hour since you have joined your new family, you don't bother complaining.

Too soon.

Much like downstairs, the interior of the floor above was simplistic. Metallic, with lots of glassed walls and plenty of potted plants.

'Someone in this family is obsessed with plants.' You think amused as your gaze travels to all the different types of plants around you. Some of them, you think, look too green and fancy to be real.

The marble staircase is wide and curved, and once you reach the end, you turn back to look down and raise a brow, impressed, at how high the floor was.

Fancy indeed.

"This floor is where most of the rooms are, only Namjoon-hyung and Yoongi-hyung live on the floor below," Jimin explains, as he leads you to where you assume your room is.

Passing by different doors on your way, you wonder whose room is which. You'll figure it out later you know, but you just hope none of the younger brothers are near you.

'Except Jimin, he's nice.' You decide as you follow his lean figure.

Pink, a colour you think would look absurd or emo on anyone else, looks bright somehow fitting, on your brother's head, and you watch entranced as his soft silky strands bounce with every step he takes.

'What is with these people and their genetics?'

It's that thought that leads you to an epiphany. You almost stop in your tracks but stumble forward when Sunmi nudges you from behind.

Earlier you were too nervous and wired, terrified of somehow messing up and offending your entire new family and so you hadn't given it much thought. But thinking back, you realise there was something weird about how they all introduced themselves.

Min, Jung, Jeon.

Their last names were different. You don't understand how you hadn't noticed it before when you had learned all their names, but you blame your anger and stupidity for the oversight.

'Kim Young-Soon', your step-mother, and the woman you currently hated with all of your being.

However, what you hadn't realised before but now do was how only Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung, had the same last name, 'Kim' as their mother.

'What the heck is up with this family?'

More confused than anything else by your realisation, you continue to follow Jimin blindly. His voice fading into the background, as your eyes track his movements, the way his full lips curl when he smiled, and your suspicion only grows.

There was something your new family wasn’t telling you, and you were going to find out just what it was.

At least now I have something to do besides stressing out over suddenly having seven brothers, two of whom would set me on fire if given a chance.

Nodding, you decide you are going to have to do some interrogation tonight.

A/N: If you like my work, leave me your feedback, even if its just a single word, it leaves me feeling immensely happy.

I updated in less than a week! Heh, clearly my stir craziness is achieving new heights. Oh well, more content for y’all so yeeehawww 🥴

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levi-ackerman-rp · 4 years

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Levi Headcanon- NSFW Alphabet.

Inspired by @fairy-tail-babes (sorry lovely, had no idea!)

Warning the following contains explicit/graphic content not suitable for anyone under 18.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This differs very much depending on the session that you have had. Though one thing that is always consistent is the clean up. He hates mess, and though bodily fluids doesn't bother him as much as dirt, grease and mould etc, it is still unpleasant for him. Regardless of how exhausted you are, he will force you to clean up, often sharing a shower with you and more than happy to help wash you down while kissing your back and whispering soft words to you. If you have had a particularly rough or intense session, expect a lot of love to follow, playing with your hair, kissing and cuddling and tending to any marks he may have left... before he forces you to move so he can change the sheets. Cuddling afterwards is not optional. He will stay with you until you fall asleep and then make his way to his office to finish work. Or, very rarely, will doze off with you.

B= Body part (their fave body part of theirs and also their partners)

Levi absolutely loves your legs. He is not much of a boob man, definitely more of an ass guy, but he goes weak at the knees for a sexy set of legs. He likes the way they look in uniform, and loves how they look out of it. There's something about the way he fits between your legs and the way they wrap tightly around him that he finds incredibly sexy. But nothing quite beats the way they quiver against his head when he's going down on you.

Levi is indifferent when it concerns his own body. He acknowledges that he is surrounded by countless men who may or may not possess a body equal to his own. But if he had to choose a favourite body part it would be his abdomen. It has absolutely nothing to do with his muscles, he is not blind, and can recognise that other men are taller, broader or more ripped than him. It is more to do with the fact that he didn't realise how sensitive this area of his body was until he met you. The way your fingers glide down his body, nails teasing the skin beneath makes him shiver everytime. The gentle kisses or playful nips makes his insides churn in the most delicious ways. And he loves it when you pull him closer by the waist.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Levi is certainly not afraid to get down and dirty between the sheets. Though he will not sit there and lie in the mess that has been made during your trysts, he is not put off by it at the time. Bodily fluids are less disgusting to him than other forms of dirt, and frankly, he finds nothing disgusting about his body or yours. He loves it when you swallow what he gives you, delighting in the needy moans you make, like you have been hungry for it for weeks. When he is feeling particularly dominant, you won't have a say. He will grip your hair and hold you in place until you fulfil his wishes and lick him clean. He also thoroughly enjoys cuming on you, whether it be your face, chest, stomach, ass or back. He likes to leave his mark on you, even if he is eager to clean you up afterwards.

And obviously, he is happy to indulge you. He is at his most unrestrained when he is fucking you senseless or eating you out and does not hold back. He loves when he slides his hand between your legs and finds that you are already slick for him, though he will tease you about it, he secretly loves that he has such an affect on you. He will often use your own juices to coat his cock before fucking you and absolutely loves the way you taste.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Levi secretly wonders what it would be like to be submissive. It has never crossed his mind before, but he sees how much you enjoy it and can't help but wonder what it would feel like. One night he broached the subject with you, and your eyes lit up like a fucking god damn Christmas tree. He instantly knew he was going to regret ever bringing this up.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Levi has very little experience, well at least that was the case before he met you. But he is a quick learner and eager to please. He is incredibly perceptive, attentive to your reactions during sex and quickly learns exactly what you like and how to make you come undone. Though even when he was inexperienced he never failed to satisfy. Levi is a determined man, and is not easily deterred, more than willing to keep going until he was certain you were completely satisfied.

F= Favourite position

Levi finds it difficult to pick one position that he favours the most as it very much depends on the mood at the time. Some times he craves the intimacy, and wants to be able to kiss you and press as much of his body to you as he possibly can. Other nights he wants to bend you over and fuck you hard and fast. A good go to for him, is the 'G-Whizz' where your legs rest on his shoulders as he fucks you. Not only does this allow for deep penetration, but he is able to watch your reactions to tell when you're close to orgasm. His hands are also free to tangle in your hair, stroke your face, squeeze your throat, or pinch your nipples.

Other positions he likes include the 'downward dog', and the 'lapdance.' He will sometimes turn you around in this position so he can pull your hair or play with your clit while fucking you. He is a strong man, so he also has no qualms with hoisting you up and fucking you standing up. On very rare occasions he will let you ride him cowgirl/reverse cowgirl style. Though he is a power bottom and will often push you forward when in the reverse position halfway through and take over.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Levi tends to be serious. Especially at first. You need to understand that it takes a lot for Levi to open up and share his more vulnerable side. It's a big deal for him, so jokes will not go down well. And if you try, he will find a way to shut you up. Whether it be fucking you so hard you can't focus or hissing out an angry 'Shut up' while covering your mouth. However, when he is more comfortable, he will not be afraid to tease you. His mouth is filthy at the best of times, and that doesn't change when you are in bed. Don't attempt to tease him back though...

H= Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

Being the clean freak he is, you can bet he takes extreme care of himself. He is not particularly hairy anyway, but likes to ensure he is smooth all over. He feels gross if he isn't able to keep on top of it. He also prefers his partner the same way, though he would never outright order it.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

When Levi is really feeling the moment, he is incredibly, deceptively intimate. The night before an expedition, tends to bring out the softer side to Levi. He fucks you so slowly and tenderly, a sharp contrast to his usual rough and demanding pace. He will entwine his fingers with yours and whisper words of love and adoration in your ear for hours, kissing your skin and enjoying you thoroughly, as if it's the last time he will ever get to hold you like this. The night after an expedition, when you are both safe back at base, he just wants to hold you close and remind you both you’re still alive and have each other. He likes to give you exactly what you deserve and feel a real connection to you.

On a day to day basis though, his affections are much more diluted. He will kiss and cuddle with you and caress you. Not every session with Levi is demanding and rough, though even on the nights where he is taking his time, it is equally as intense. The level of intimacy relies heavily on Levi's mood, as with many things, but he is never cold or uncaring with you. He gives you his full attention every time.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Levi doesn't masturbate. It's not that he never has, but he doesn't anymore. He doesn't need to anymore since being with you. He doesn't see the point in maturbating when he can just wait until you are free. He has a high level of self control, and isn't a teenage boy, unable to control himself. He would much prefer to wait out his frustration and unleash on you later.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Levi's main kink is BDSM and all that comes along with it. He would never dream of doing something that you don't consent to, and his attentiveness certainly comes in handy here. He loves the feeling of being in control, and loves it even more that you trust him so explicitly. Calling him Sir or Captain is just as hot to him as you moaning his name. Safe words are a must, and if you are gagged, he will give you something to hold, instructing you to drop it immediately if you want to stop. He loves to tie you up and have you completely at his mercy. Impact play, sensation play, gagging, breath play. It's all good as long as it's good for the both of you. He constantly checks in with you, leaning close and whispering 'Are you okay?' In your ear.

He has got no problem dragging these times out and making you beg and scream and cry for release. But don't you dare cum without his permission. He knows your limits, and though he sometimes pushes your boundaries, he never, ever oversteps. He is not particularly fond of degradation, but will comply if it is what you want. And despite him not really liking it, he is very fucking good at it. That filthy mouth...

L=Location (favourite places to do the do)

Levi sees nothing wrong with fucking you in the bedroom. It is comfortable, private and clean. However he also doesn't mind taking advantage in his shower either. It's convenient.

He is not into PDA, so anything public is usually out of the question. Though he has been convinced on a couple of occasions to fuck you somewhere semi-public. Against a tree, on the roof... he tries to keep it out of his office, not wanting to mix work and pleasure, but sometimes, he will snap. Levi has a lot of self control, but even he has his breaking points. He absolutely will not fuck you anywhere dirty or in plain sight.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This will depend again on his mood. He loves the confidence you have, and when he is in a good mood, nothing will get him going more than for you to just walk upto him, wrap your arms around him and tell him exactly what you want and how badly you want it. If he is stressed though, it takes a bit more work, but he is susceptible to touches and whispers in his ear. He likes to know that you want him as much as he wants you, and sometimes he will play hard to get just to hear more, especially if you have came to him at a bad time. But knowing how desperate you are for him turns him on no end and he knows he will give in eventually, once he has made you work for it.

N= NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Levi likes to please and is open to most things. He will give most things a try, even if he doesn't see the appeal or thinks it is pointless. Anything public, such as sex in public or humiliation is out of the question, and he draws the line at inflicting excessive pain and knows exactly where to draw the line. He is also not a fan of roleplay and outfits as he just can't take it seriously. However, sexy lingerie is perfectly safe.

Spitting is also a hard limit, unless it's on his dick.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Most of the time when receiving oral, Levi is pretty rough and demanding. He likes to control the pace himself, and even if he starts off by gently guiding you, he soon loses his cool and will grip your hair or chin and fuck your face recklessly. He loves it when you gag around him and you maintain eye contact while swallowing him down. He also enjoys seeing his cum paint the inside of your mouth, always commenting on how filthy you are, though obviously he doesn't mean it. He usually ties you up for the occassion. Though he is rough and unrelenting, he makes sure to give you plenty of breathing opportunities. Partly for your benefit, partly because he wants to draw it out. Unless you come to him while he is working. He loves these times just as much. When you walk into his office and drop to your knees for him and silently show him just how much you want him.

However, he tends to prefer giving oral than receiving. Levi is quite selfless, and absolutely loves to hear your sounds of satisfaction, knowing that he is the one ripping them from you. He is skilled, and can bring you to the edge in a matter of minutes, though he rarely let's you cum straight away, and will quite happily edge you for hours. He wants you begging and pleading for it. Wants you squirming and practically grinding your pussy on his face before he finally gives you what you want. You taste fucking good so he rarely stops at just one round. Expect multiple orgasms when he is feeling this generous. He loves feeling your thighs twitch around his face, hearing the praise fall from your lips and fingers tug on his hair. But get too rough with him and he will not hesitate to deliver a sharp slap to those beautiful thighs.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Levi can do either, and do them very well. You never know what you're getting yourself in for unless it has been made quite clear throughout the day. If he has been extra loving, you can pretty much guarantee a sensual and intense evening of passion. If you have been teasing him all day, expect a solid pounding. He is predominantly more fast, rough and vigorous, but has been known to surprise you on occasions.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Levi is not a fan of quickies. He doesn't see the need of them. As stated before he likes to take his time and draw things out, he likes to thoroughly enjoy you, and he can't do that in ten minutes. He would much rather wait and pick you a part piece by piece. If you are being particularly persistent, he will have you sit on the edge of his desk with your legs spread wide while he fingers you, whispering all sorts of sinful things in your ear. But you had better finish fast. His time is precious, and if he is busy, he has got no qualms sending you on your way before you cum.

He will make it up to you later though. Several times over.

But actual quickies are exceedingly rare.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

Levi is generally open to experiment with you, though it does depend. He likes to talk about ideas first, and won't be too happy if you spring something unexpected on him. He also won't be willing to try something new if he has had a particularly rough day. In terms of risk, he is calculated and logical. He will rarely take a risk, although, if it is something you are really, really into he may be persuaded, if you catch him at the right time.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Levi is a man with inexhaustible stamina. Very much the kind of guy who will fight all day and fuck all night. Though he doesn't necessarily feel the need to fuck you very often, when he does, it is pretty much impossible to ignore. And he makes sure you know it too. He will exhaust you in the best ways possible. But he knows your limits, and will stop when you need him to. He is also not a selfish lover, so is more than happy to keep you cuming with his tongue and fingers for a few rounds. He also likes to break up a round with a lot of foreplay and kisses. Once you've both finished, he will kiss you and cuddle you and tease you, working you back into a frenzied state before fucking you again.

And if your sex drive is higher than his, he will happily indulge you in anyway you desire. It doesn't take long for him to get worked up. Even if he wasn't in the mood before he saw you, a few choice words and touches in the right places will certainly change his mind.

T= Toy (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner of themselves?)

Levi is open to the idea of you having toys and if you beg him enough, he might indulge you and buy you a couple. But he will be the one to use them on you first. He thoroughly enjoys tying you to the bed and having his way with you, and using a toy on you is just as exhilarating. He loves to watch your body arch and tremble and the vibrations are a great way to get you over stimulated. Whether he is fucking you with it while his lips are wrapped around your clit or fucking you while the vibrator teases you he doesn't care. Both work for him.

But he has his rules. If you ever want to use your toy without him, you need his permission. He secretly likes it when you go to his office begging for release, even if he pretends he doesn't and gives you a hard time about it. More often than not, he will tell you no and to go back to bed... and then will make you wait ten minutes before joining you and giving you exactly what you want himself.

U= Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

Levi has amazing patience and self control so it’s no surprise he’s into a lot of overstimulation and edging. Absolute tease. He loves to watch you get worked up. He will kiss and touch you in such a way it will leave you soaked before he even gets to the good stuff. He’ll edge you until you’re sobbing and then just as it gets too much, he’ll make you cum so hard you end up squirting everywhere. He knows your limits, so even if you're begging for release, chances are he isn't going to give in if he knows he can push you further, especially if you have been naughty. He loves how desperate you get for him, how you practically throw your self respect away and become a quivering mess in his hands. He is strong enough to hold you down and force orgasm after orgasm from you, no matter how much you beg him to stop. And he will always taunt you.

V= Volume (how loud are they, what sounds they make)

Levi is not particularly vocal. His noises tend to be more restrained, gasps, pants and soft groans here and there. But he can talk dirty for days. He knows exactly what to say and how to say it to make you weak at the knees and will happily use this against you. Lots of cursing, filth and praise all in equal measures. And he loves to hear the noises you make. Don't even try to muffle them, because he will know, and he will act accordingly to ensure you break.

W= Wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Levi likes to leave his marks on you in visible places. He may not be willing to make it known you're his in public by kissing you or holding your hand, but leaving his mark is his way of making sure everyone knows you are off limits. He can be possessive when his jealousy is incited, which is incredibly rare as he trusts you completely and is confident enough in himself to know nothing would ever happen. But once in a blue moon he will go all out and litter your neck with purple and red marks. Just to be sure.

X=X-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Considering his height, Levi has an impressive dick. He is by no means huge, just slightly above average. His skin is smooth and creamy with a slightly flushed light pink tip.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

As previously mentioned, Levi's sex drive is below average, but he is also not a selfish man. He is more than happy to cater to your needs should you have a higher sex drive than him, and is more than capable in keeping up. He has always been busy and his past has forced him to view sex differently than most men. However, when he finally opens up and realises it's not all bad, his sex drive will increase slightly.

Z= ZZZ (…how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This again will depend on Levi's mood. If he has had a particularly rough day, and is tired or has no work left to do, he will lie with you and cuddle you until you fall asleep, and then follow suit about ten minutes later. If he isn't tired, or has things to do, he will still cuddle you until you're asleep and then kiss you before leaving to finish his work. He likes to make sure you are comfortable, safe and warm before leaving, and only ever goes to the office adjoining his bedroom so he is close by if you need him. He loves how peaceful you look when you're asleep.

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otonymous · 5 years

Note

Your Gavin NSFW HCs!! So good so good so good! The game hasn't been out long but all of these boys are already near and dear to my heart. I wreck myself thinking of your HCs for the other three if you wrote them 💦 For now, may I humbly request some NSFW HCs of my (potentially/somewhat) shady sunshine Kiro if you're willing to bless us with trying him out? No worries if you're not taking requests/busy! Just slid in to let know your Gavin HCs lit some fires 🔥🔥

Hello awesome Anon! 💕

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and your incredibly polite ask! 😍 It totally brought a huge smile to my face to know that you enjoyed my Gavin NSFW HCs! Sorry for the long wait in answering your Ask - I hope you’re cool with Kiro’s NSFW ABCs! Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy them 😉

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised. TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of smothering & breath play (can be incredibly dangerous - please take a moment to read up on it if you’re curious and practice safe sex in more ways than one!!)

The ABCs of Kiro (MLQC Headcanon - NSFW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

This sweetheart has already raided the convenience stores beforehand for your favourite snacks and will lay them before you while you’re still wrapped up in his sheets

Enjoy feeding each other Pocky and chips, laughing and getting to know one another in your post-coital bliss

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your ears: loves to nibble and suck on the lobes, run his tongue over the shell of your ears, softly serenade you with the sweetest love songs just to watch the tips grow red

Kiro is particularly fond of his lips: he loves licking the salt of potato chips off them, loves using them to feel the heat of your skin as he peppers your body with kisses, absolutely adores it when you come undone from his mouth alone

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Kiro loves to come in you, but he also loves pulling out to lay the head of his cock on your trembling folds just watch his cum paint your pussy; reach a hand down to gingerly smear it all around and Kiro is insta-hard again

He also loves to take you from behind so he can cum on your ass and watch it drip down the curves of your cheeks and onto your thighs

Kiro has a hard time keeping control when you look up to meet his eyes as your tongue peeks out to taste that drop of pre-cum on the head of his cock

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He may or may not have a couple pairs of your clean underwear that he buries his face in while he’s jerking off, thinking of you

They definitely come in handy with his crazy busy schedule and all the traveling he does for work (see “Jack Off” below)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Kiro is quite experienced (especially when it comes to certain kinks)

Prior to meeting the love of his life (i.e. YOU) he has engaged in meaningless sex here and there with some groupies, some members of edgy underground organizations (one of whom introduced him to his kink - see below, under K)

F = Favourite Position

Hands down, 69 is Kiro’s favourite position because he likes to give and receive at the same time

The superstar will keep pulling down on your hips and thighs, trying to get you to rest more of your weight onto his face (see Kink below)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

There can be a lot of jokes and laughter leading up to the moment, but you can bet that once Kiro gets down to business, he’s never been more serious about anything in his life

Boy can be INTENSE and seriously driven to give you as much pleasure as possible

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Like Victor, Kiro is completely bare (in case the superstar has any wardrobe malfunctions on stage)

But if you MUST know, Kiro is a natural blond

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Kiro is a romantic at heart: he firmly believes in love at first sight, the red thread of fate and the concept of soulmates

From the very moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were the one and hasn’t looked at anyone else since (and never will)

Even still, he cannot help but feel insecure at times, hating himself whenever he questions whether or not his Evol had any influence on your feelings for him

Hence, sex with Kiro often takes on an incredibly intimate tone and can be more properly referred to as lovemaking: his cerulean eyes will be searching yours as he buries himself deeply inside you, laying his soul bare with every tender word he whispers in your ear, each burning press of his body against yours — he’s expressing the depths of his love and seeking confirmation that you love him as Kiro the man, not Kiro the superstar with his overwhelming charm

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Kiro masturbates quite frequently, close to daily, depending on how tired/busy he is — he finds it hard not to, since you’re never far from his mind

His insane work schedule unfortunately translates into a lot of time away from you, so he often has to rely on himself to release his pent-up energy

Also expect to engage in some mutual masturbation over FaceTime

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Kiro has an oral fixation and lives for you to sit on his face

He’s even cool if there’s a bit of smothering - VERY MILD breath play is something he’s into

He won’t do it to you unless you request it yourself, Miss Chips! (you can bet safe words/gestures will be in full effect)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere he can get you alone: with his jam-packed schedule, Kiro has to take advantage of every hour, every minute, every second he has with you

You guys have gotten busy in a variety of places: in his dressing room, a variety of broom closets, hidden behind clothing racks backstage, inside a parked van with tinted windows, in bathroom stalls, on a deserted beach in the middle of the night, etc. — anything goes

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

While Kiro loves everything about you, he especially loves the sound of your voice, and finds it absolutely irresistible when you sing a song he penned himself (he’d wonder whether his Evol rubbed off on you)

The man melts to hear you moan with pleasure, so feel free to be as loud as possible whenever you have the luxury to do so

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

I’m just gonna keep it real here: none of the MLQC boys share. NONE.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This boy likes giving and receiving equally (see Favourite Position above)

Very skilled at eating you out and can happily do so for HOURS (this superstar has had lots of vocal training, including tongue stretches 😉)

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

If time isn’t an issue, Kiro tends towards slow and sensual because he wants so badly to prolong the moment of physical and emotional intimacy with you

When you’re indulging in a quickie though, the man can snap his hips as fast as a jackhammer and with almost as much force

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

While Kiro doesn’t view quickies as ideal, it’s much better than nothing and beggars won’t be choosers

It’s pretty much guaranteed that sex is gonna happen anytime you and Kiro get the chance to meet up in person

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Kiro is totally game when it comes to experimenting (except no additional partners!)

His kink game is strong to begin with: anything you mention he’s likely already tried, so feel free to ask him anything

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

With all the recording/filming/concerts/TV appearances/promotions, etc., Kiro has even longer work days than Victor. You best believe he has the stamina to keep up

He’s also a younger guy and is super fit from rehearsing dance routines all the time, along with his usual sessions at the gym (he’s gotta work off all that junk food after all)

So, if given the time and opportunity, Kiro can go many rounds and doesn’t require much recovery time in between

But don’t worry, the boy’s EQ is so high he would never push you past your comfort level; you wouldn’t even need to say anything and he can read you like an open book

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Kiro doesn’t have any toys for his own use, but as mentioned in Dirty Secret above, he does keep a pair of your panties around to assist him in fantasizing about you when he’s stroking himself

The superstar does have a collection of costumes from movies/dramas he’s filmed in the past and took a particular liking to. Feel free to peruse and let him know which one you want him to wear 😉

LOVES using toys on you, and is quite open to you using toys on him

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Kiro likes to tease his lady when she loses at video games, not when she’s in the bedroom (unless you explicitly ask for it)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Kiro, the singer, can get incredibly loud during the act when he doesn’t have to be discrete

His moans and groans are made 100000000x more irresistible by his beautifully sensual voice

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

You’ve inspired every love song he’s written since meeting you

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Kiro has a nice cock, average girth and slightly above-average in length

He is cut and curves very slightly to the right

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Kiro had a high sex drive to begin with, but it has shot through the roof since meeting you

His mind can’t help but drift to more sensual matters whenever he sees you or even thinks of you

Much of this is tied to the strength of his feelings for you; oftentimes he finds that words just aren’t enough to express how much he loves and desires you so he tries to show you with both his words and actions

The man does try to suppress his thirst, as he doesn’t want to scare you off

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Kiro tends to pass out immediately after sex, but only for 5-10 minutes before he’s completely energized again and ready to go, as if he took a power nap

If you’re up for another round, so is he! But if you’ve had enough, Kiro will break out the post-coital snacks (see Aftercare above) and maybe toss you a gaming console controller, smirking as he climbs back under the sheets with you

——————————————————————————————-

Thanks so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#q&a #anonymous #all request line #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc kiro #mlqc smut headcanon #mlqc smut #my writing

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literatehiss · 3 years

Text

The Rains of Moorland House

After going to Moorland house, Martin deals with Peters inheritance. Meanwhile, Peter considers the more esoteric inheritance he has received over the years. Read on AO3 here When Martin thought of Peter, he thought of fog. A thick choking mist that blinded you, wrapped around you. Peter and the fog left you stranded and alone no matter how many people you surrounded yourself by. Peter was much the same. He would wrap his presence around Martin to keep others away, possessive and protective. He hid Martin away from both those who cared for him and those who would hurt him. Martin thought of pale skies and muted lights, of an ever-present damp chill.

When Peter thought of Martin he thought of rain. A soft pattering of water against windows and roofs. A comfort and a danger. Martin and the rain seemed unimpressive and unnoticeable until they turned on you. Until the rain caused you to slip to your death on cold, slick stone, or it brought a chill that never went away, only brought sickness and weakness. Peter was fond of Martin but he could not forget what the man did to Elias, he was not as helpless as he pretended. Martin brought the comfort of tea and company but also the harsh sting of passive aggressive anger. Peter thought of dark storm clouds and light reflecting off puddles, of the warmth of being inside as the storm passes overhead.

It turns out the funeral Peter had dragged Martin too wasn’t just a cousin, it was a cousin with no children or siblings. It was a cousin who had scattered what remained of his estate amongst various family members, including Peter. The captain had little to no interest in dealing with the paperwork and other sundry hassles of the inheritance and had swiftly passed it off to Martin.

Martin considered asking for a pay rise. He wasn’t sure that being Peter’s assistant, his current pay and the promise of saving the world was worth having to deal with the procession of lawyers and Lukas’ that he had to contact to get everything sorted. He was currently re-writing an email to some uncle of Peter’s. The man was obnoxious and rude and Martin needed to remove some of his instinctual snark from the email. He didn’t want to get reprimanded by Peter for being rude to one of his family members. Peter may find him funny but he was sure the practically pre-historic man he had been introduced to at the funeral would not find it quite as amusing.

Opening up an email from the Lukas’ lawyer, he saw the amount of money that Peter would be inheriting. It was more than Martin’s yearly salary, actually, wait, no it was more than two years worth of his yearly salary.

He wondered if Peter would notice if he skimmed a little off the top.

Martin sighed. It wasn’t worth the risk, especially when he could buy whatever he liked with Peter’s bank card.

It would be funny though.

He signed off on the email and stretched, having been sat at the desk answering emails (thank god the Lukas’ were not ones for phone calls, he didn’t think he would have the mental strength).

By the time he returned to his office, cup of tea balancing in one hand as he pushed open the door, Peter had appeared and was lurking in his office, peering at his computer screen.

“Oh hello Martin, just reading Nathaniel’s email. He’s being short with you because he expected Andrew,” Martin was at least 60 percent sure than Andrew was the one who had died, “to give more to Conrad. He didn’t of course because Conrad is insufferable, even by our family’s standards. You let a guy work on a rocket and suddenly he becomes all high and mighty about it.”

Martin sipped his tea patiently as Peter grumbled about various family members and their relative levels of snobbery, which Martin thought was hilariously hypocritical of the man. He glanced out of the window. Rain poured down from the heavens, slamming against the window and leaving the road a shallow river. Peter finally finished his rant with something to do with how he gave more to the Forsaken than any of his family members and they were just jealous and Martin could not help but think he sounded like a moody teenager.

Martin went to take another sip but Peter had been complaining so long that he had already drunk it and he looked down into his cup in disapproval. Peter caught the look and laughed.

“Well since I’ve come into some money I guess I’ll be able to treat you to some lunch.” he said as if he didn’t buy Martin lunch at least twice a week. He wrapped an arm around Martin’s shoulder and lead him out of the Institute and to an incredibly overpriced cafe that wasn’t too far away.

He relaxed in the gentle heat of the cafe, listening to the sounds of the rain as spent a quiet lunch with his boss.

Peter woke up to fog.

Well he technically always woke up to fog, but this was an external fog that had drifted over from the Thames and was curling at the window of his apartment.

He felt a little bad for dumping all the stress of dealing with his family onto Martin but if nothing else it would be an excellent way to keep Martin busy and isolated for quite some time.

As he thought of the, relatively meagre compared to his bank account, inheritance from a family member he had never spoken to for more than 3 minutes at a time, he also thought of other things he had inherited. He had inherited his tall stature from his mother’s side of the family and rest of his pale features he had inherited from his useless father. He had inherited his power, his faith, his name. Everything he owned came from his family, even his beloved ship didn’t actually belong to him.

He thought of the old house, of the basement, of the cold embrace of the Lonely.

Peter watched Martin over the rim of his coffee cup. Even Martin he had inherited from Elias when he took over the Institute, thought Peter liked to think that Martin would never have reached his true potential under Elias’ ever-present stare.

Martin hadn’t come from money. The only thing he inherited when his mother passed was debt and a few boxes of bad memories. Martin had lied and worked hard to get everything he had, nothing had ever been given to him for the sole reason of blood and genetics. Peter respected that, he wasn’t like certain members of his family who just wasted away in the halls of Moorland House, he put work into dragging unwilling sacrifices into the Lonely. He had, before he became captain of the Tundra and could hole up in his cabin all day, worked hard on the ships he had been stationed on. He respected the hard work Martin put in but he still thought that Martin deserved to be spoiled. He did everything that Peter could ever ask for and asked for very little in return. He was handsome and intelligent and Peter still thought of the warmth of Martin’s hand when he had comforted him on the steps of Moorland House.

He watched as the steam drifted up from Martin’s mug and fogged up his glasses, blocking his bright blue eyes from his sight.

Peter reached out, his hand wrapping around Martin’s wrist. He looked up sharply. Peter felt a faint flush spread across his cheeks. He picked at his sandwich with his other hand but kept his soft grip on Martin’s wrist.

He felt Martin’s stare even as he looked down at his sandwich before the other man shook loose his wrist. Peter felt a pang of sorrow and an unfamiliar loneliness at the rejection before he felt Martin turn his hand around, hooking his fingers with Peter’s own. Peter looked up to see a similar flush across Martin’s face as his sipped his tea.

They sat in silence, enjoying each others company and the sound of the rain and the sight of the world through the fogged up windows.

#PeterMartin #petermartinweek2020 #NaNo 2020

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secretsolenoid · 4 years

Text

Revolution Day

Gift for @warlordenfilade! Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy. This fic is based on your Tarnsaurus prompt. I went a bit off the beaten path with the holiday of choice, by making a Decepticon-centric holiday, but I started thinking about battle reenactments and how Tarn would be obsessed with the tactical and historical side of things, and Deathsaurus would probably enjoy the more physical aspects of it all.

The shuttle settled to the ground with a rattling clunk. Deathsaurus didn’t mind it-- most of his fleet’s vessels were rather cobbled together, now. Not poorly made, but with a tenuous hold on their own manufacturing sources, they often had to make do with the supplies captured from various sources. It certainly wasn’t scavenging, just… creative supply line interruption. Deathsaurus had long since grown used to the audial effect this inconsistent sourcing had on the engines of their ships-- they tended to groan, rattle, and click a little bit more than a Decepticon ship fresh off the assembly line--but the sound clearly did not put his companion at ease.

Tarn seemed to be doing his best to look unconcerned, but Deathsaurus caught the concerned look he had shot the roof of the shuttle at the groan and rattle of the engines slowing their descent. He’d been fidgety, too, for Tarn, folding and refolding his hands over the arms of his seat. Or perhaps that was simply the effects of spending a long shuttle ride in a space too small for him to transform. Deathsaurus fully expected the leader of the DJD to drop into tank mode a few times the moment they set foot out onto the planet’s surface. He might characterize it as stretching out his cables, of course, but the excuse to indulge his transformation addiction surely wouldn’t hurt. Deathsaurus knew all about that, no matter how Tarn tried to hide it. He was reasonably certain that it was known fact among most high-ranking Decepticons (and former Decepticons), and common rumor among the genericons.

As soon as the groaning began to settle and the engines started to power down again. Deathsaurus levered himself out of his pilot’s chair. “We’re here,” he announced, rather unnecessarily.

“I would be thrilled,” Tarn said dryly, “if I knew where ‘here’ was.”

Still, he levered himself out of his own seat and prepared to follow Deathsaurus off of the shuttle. It was tight maneuvering for the both of them, as large as they were, and Deathsaurus was pleased with the chance to exit the ship first. He wanted a chance to check out the terrain. And, in fact, he wanted to do some stretching of his own. Not of the transformation kind, but even the largest settings on the shuttle’s pilot seat got rather cramped for his wings.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Deathsaurus said, grinning. He didn’t get more than an aggravated huff from Tarn in response, but it made him grin even further, as he hit the button to open the shuttle doors.

They unsealed with the hiss of pressure exchange, and Deathsaurus led the way out first. The planet was a rather familiar one, atmosphere-wise, but the terrain in front of them was unfamiliar to Deathsaurus. He could see the mock-ups of particular buildings, drab gray plastisteel and concrete facsimiles of the once-grand style of Cybertronian architecture.

Behind him, Deathsaurus heard the whirring and clicking of transformation, then the rumble of tank treads on decking as Tarn drove himself down the ramp. He even heard the slow groan of relief that Tarn made as he slid back into bipedal form. Deathsaurus stretched his own limbs, one wing after another, as Tarn stepped up to join him. He was critically surveying the array of buildings before them. “Welcome to Theta-2349071.”

“So this ‘historical event’ you’ve taken me to… is ruins.”

Deathsaurus smirked. Tarn didn’t show much confusion, but the hints of hesitance showing through his masks both literal and figurative were incredibly amusing. He was looking forward to the moment of realization. And to using up his extra adrenaline with Tarn in a very enjoyable way, after today’s celebrations were done. “Not at all. Do the ruins look familiar?”

Tarn gave them a second survey, his optics narrowing. “Cybertronian. Rather crude, however. Hastily constructed. It’s certainly meant to look like a city, but it is hardly habitable, or defensible.”

Deathsaurus grinned. “No, it’s a mock-up, isn’t it?”

Tarn gave him a suspicious and unimpressed look. “And what are we doing here? Next to a mock-up city?”

“I’ll explain,” Deathsaurus said, and pinged at Tarn’s comm. “But first, tap in to these channels.”

He watched as Tarn, clearly suspicious, scanned them for some sort of virus before accepting the invitation. The frown only deepened as he entered them, and surely began to sort through the various levels of chatter.

In only moments, Tarn was glaring at him. “Deathsaurus,” he snapped. “What is this?”

“Only a battle reenactment,” Deathsaurus explained. “Esmeral organizes them. You’re so fond of strategy and history and all that rust, I thought you’d have heard of them before.”

“Battle reenactment,” Tarn repeated, his voice flat. “And we are here to…?”

“Join in, of course. She does it every Revolution Day,” Deathsaurus explained. “This time it’s the battle of Tyger Pax. The first one, with the decisive Decepticon victory. One of the most decisive early war victories. The tanks were a huge part of that one, I figured you would enjoy being on the key team. Decepticons, of course. I wouldn’t offend your sensibilities by making you be an Autobot.”

Tarn gave a full-body shudder at even the word. Then he turned away from the ruins to give Deathsaurus a sharp look. “The tanks. Not a strategist?”

Deathsaurus’s optics flickered in a blink, all the sets of them. “Of course,” he said. “It’s a battle reenactment, not a strategy game. Can’t have the Autobots winning on Revolution Day, can you?”

Tarn did not look pleased by this. “Then what is the point? Playing grunt?”

Deathsaurus shrugged. “Blowing things up for the glory of the revolution, of course. Much more fun than sitting around sipping on someone’s energon and rereading After the Ark, or whatever it is you DJD normally do. Now come on, we’re almost ready to start. Time to get into position.”

Thirty breems or so into the battle, Deathsaurus caught the first glimpse of fliers over the city. “There they go,” he said, elbowing Tarn next to him, who stepped away with ill-concealed irritation. “Time for us to move in.”

“What?” Tarn said, looking around. “That’s hardly possible. In the battle of Tyger Pax, it took five cycles for the heavy artillery reinforcements to make it to the city and begin turning the tides of the battle.”

“And it’s sped up in the reenactment,” Deathsaurus countered, “because no one wants to wait around that long. Now are you going to transform and join in, or not?”

Tarn grumbled, but sure enough, he slid into his tank mode.

“This is not accurate,” Tarn muttered into Deathsaurus’s comm. Deathsaurus chanced a glance at him, then turned back to shooting at the spires of the inner buildings.

“What isn’t?” he responded, cavalier. Tarn made another grumbling sound.

“The weapons. This early in the war, phase-matter blasters were only in the hands of the Senate’s forces--”

“If you know where we can find a stash of pre-war cannons to equip ourselves with, we can use those next time,” Deathsaurus said. “Until then, just enjoy the destruction.”

“Tarn-- what are you going?”

Next to Deathsaurus, the tank rolled to a stop. “What am I what? This is the proper invasion route!”

“Yeah, I know that,” Deathsaurus said. His own HUD was lit up with the proper path through the great gates of Tyger Pax. “But you’re out.”

Tarn transformed, his shoulders hiked high with irritation. “I’m what?”

“Er. You’re dead. Haven’t you been checking your comms?”

“What for?” Tarn growled. “I know this battle better than anyone here. I have been keeping track of the time conversion. How am I dead?”

Deathsaurus gestured to the vibrant green dust coating Tarn’s plating. “Looks like a bomb, to me. Where did you get hit?”

Tarn looked down at himself, then back up. “How does that mean I’m dead?”

“Every patch of green is a wound,” Deathsaurus explained. “You’ve probably ‘bled out’ by now.”

Tarn smeared away some of the green. “This is hardly enough to kill a tank, especially not a properly armed one!” he protested. “I refuse to exit the battle simply because--”

There was a whistling sound around them, and then another bomb dropped right between them, coating them both from helm to pede in green powder.

“This--” Tarn was jabbing a finger into Deathsaurus’s chest plating, “--was a horrible idea. I’ll have to do a deep clean now.”

Deathsaurus held up his hands in surrender. “I thought you’d like it. You’re always going on about the glory of the Decepticon message, and the early days of the war.”

Tarn scoffed. “The elegance of the battles is not in the shooting and the chance to personally engage in overdramatic death scenes,” he argued, swiping another hand over his plating. It did very little to dislodge all the green and grey dust still coating him.

“The death scenes are the best part!” Deathsaurus argued. “You know you enjoyed seeing the people you shot spin wildly off the walls.”

“I won’t even bother to comment on that,” Tarn huffed. Then he leveled a finger at Deathsaurus. “The real battle was nothing like that. I have video archivals that prove it.”

“Propaganda vids?” Deathsaurus asked, archly. “If you think you’re getting me to watch those--”

“I sat through a cycle of your Revolution Day activities,” Tarn said, arms crossed. “Now, you will sit down, and you will watch them with me, or you can make your own way off this planet.”

“All right, all right,” Deathsaurus said. “As long as it’s less than ten breems of footage.”

This seemed to satisfy Tarn, who gestured Deathsaurus over to the viewscreen. “And,” he said, in the voice of a ‘con who knew exactly how much he’d just won, “next time, I insist on doing the battle of Polyhex. It’s far more interesting.”

#Secret Solenoid 2020 #Secret Solenoid gift #fic gift #idw generation 1 #deathsaurus #tarn #tarnsaurus #warlordenfilade #anonymous

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horansqueen · 5 years

Text

BabyGirl 10.0

NOTES:

♥ this is based on a concept i received a few weeks ago and ppl asked that i made a story with it. ♥ i planned 3-4 long parts but i think it’ll be 8-10 short parts okay more like 15 parts? lol ♥ 3.4k. fluff. ♥ there may be smut but i doubt it and IF it happens it wont be as explicit as my other smut works. ♥ i didn’t proofread and if you read my stuff you know i never do because im a lazy ass. ♥ I wrote the thing about socks without even thinking about Niall’s socks obsession (just because one of my daughters used to love socks sooo much) and then I remembered so I added something about it haha! ♥ im so sorry it took so long, really. i will try to update quicker next time! ♥ if you have any questions please dont hesitate.

♥ PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6 // PART 7 // PART 8 // PART 9

10.0 SHOPPING & PRINCESS THINGS

HIM

I felt a bit disoriented when I woke up. The sun peaked through the living room windows and I could hear the tv in the background. I groaned low, sensing it was way too early to even think of getting up, but finally sighed and opened my eyes slowly. I felt someone move against me and gripped her tighter, pulling her closer to me. She let out a low whimper and it made me smile fondly. I turned my head to look at her sleeping, her mouth slightly open and her hair a mess, and it made my heart twist. A bunch of memories rushed through my mind and I brought my hand to move her hair out of her face. I could keep pretending I didn't love her, but I would just be lying to myself, and I was pretty much the only person who still believed my lies.

I let the tip of my finger slide on her jaw until her chin and it made the left corner of her lips move up. She moved her shoulder closer to her face and whimpered again, her eyes fluttering open slowly. They met mine and I smiled more as she did the same.

"Morning." she breathed, licking her lips.

"Morning." I replied just as low. "Slept well?"

She smiled more and stretched herself and for some reason, I felt suddenly endeared by the way she woke up, stretching her arms up and squirming slightly the rest of her body as a low groan escaped her lips. But It's only when she turned on the side and her arm wrapped around my chest that my heart jumped in my chest.

"Surprisingly, yes." she pointed out, looking up at me. "Your couch is amazing."

She was so close and my eyes roamed on her face, letting thoughts and memories invade me the way I never let them before. For once, I was making the choice I wanted, and not the one I knew I needed to make. I was allowing myself to go against what I thought everyone else wanted to do something I desperately needed and I was sure I wouldn't regret it for a second. I bent down slightly, brushing my lips against hers. They immediately curled and I chuckled, pressing my lips firmly on hers.

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

The voice made both of us jump and I instantly remembered the sound of the television playing when I woke up. It should have been a hint that Chelsea was awake but it simply didn't come to mind at that moment.

Her mom sat up and I did the same as she tried to comb her hair with her fingers. I was nervous, not really sure of what our daughter had heard or seen, and I cursed at myself mentally. Just yesterday, we had decided to start again but not tell Chelsea to be sure not to hurt her and the first thing we did was going against that, even if it wasn't intentional.

"Mommy!" she repeated in a whiny voice, making me raise my eyebrows.

"Chelsea." I replied without thinking. "Mommy just woke up, so give her some time okay?"

The confidence in my tone surprised everyone in the room, especially me, and I held my breath, a bit scared I would be told to mind my own business. They both stared at me, blinking a few times, and my daughter finally sighed, turning back to the television.

"Okay uncle Niall."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to my girlfriend (the thought made my heart jump in my chest) who was sending me a fond smile that I quickly returned. She brought her hand to my cheek and I felt a shiver cross my whole body when her fingertips brushed on my jaw.

"You're gonna be good at this." she whispered before getting up and walking to the kitchen.

We made toasts and eggs in silence, just moving together in my kitchen like we were used to cook together all the time. It was easy to be around her, just like it felt natural for the three of us to be under the same roof, and when we all sat at the table to eat, I started wondering when was the last time I felt that degree of happiness in my life.

Of course, there was always the shows, and the fans, and the recording, but feeling this happy in my own personal life was definitely on a different level.

"So Chelsea, you remember we're going at the mall today to buy you new clothes?"

Her face illuminated and it made me grin. I always thought kids hated shopping, especially for clothes. Clearly, it depended of the kid, and I had to stop being surprised at how special Chelsea was. I was way past thinking it was just my biased ass who imagined that she was unique. She had done nothing but surprise and endear me since day one.

"I will be able to pick dresses?" she asked in a high tone full of hope.

"Yes, of course."

"And and and hats?" she kept going. "AND SOCKS?"

The last word made me chuckle and I turned to her mother, my eyebrows raised up.

"Socks?" I mouthed, making her smile more as she nodded. "She likes socks?"

The thought of my own socks collection made my lips curl even more and i shook my head. I enjoyed discovering that we had things in common even if I didn't see her grow up. I guess it was a way for me to feel closer to her in a sense.

"But first, we have to go back home to get changed." she pointed out, taking me out of my thoughts. "We shouldn't stay in yesterday's clothes."

Chelsea nodded a bit exaggeratedly and jumped down the chair. I watched them leave to the bathroom to clean and I decided to go change too.

My room was almost cold, making a shiver run up my spine. I was happy she fell asleep in my arms on the couch and that thought made me smile. I quickly emptied my pockets, placing everything on my bedside table but held my breath when I noticed the silver heart again. I stared at it for a few seconds, swallowing the lump in my throat as the memory of it came back to my head. It was a gift for our anniversary and I made the vow to surprise her with every gift. This time, though, it was cheesy and I knew it, but I preferred to see it as romantic. I noticed she was not wearing the key that made a pair with the heart anymore and I couldn't hide that it was hurting me a bit but at the same time, I couldn't blame her for trying to forget. I put new pants on but slipped the heart in my pocket again, wondering if I should bring it up or not. I didn't have much time to think when I heard them get out of the bathroom and search for their coats.

We made a quick stop at their place and I waited for them in the car, slightly nervous about how the afternoon would go. I hadn't had a girlfriend in so long I could barely remember what it was like. That thought hit me hard and reminded me of that conversation I had with Louis, when he was looking for my watch. I meant almost everything I told him on that day, except when I said I had never been in love, but now that I had decided to try with her again, I felt completely different. It's crazy how only a few days can change everything. Or perhaps it was my daughter that changed me. Either way, I felt new, and It was a permanent change.

"Okay Chelsea, where do you want to start?"

My daughter looked around, her eyes roaming on all the stores and she pressed her lips together, moving them quickly from left to right as she pondered in silence.

"Dresses. I want to start with dresses." she affirmed with conviction, making me smile.

I was not really surprised as she seemed to have a keen interest in princess dresses and we made our way to a specific store I was not even aware existed before today. My eyebrows raised when I noticed all the pink and I slipped my hands in my pockets, playing with the small silver heart hidden in the right one. I felt out of place and I was not sure why but I simply followed them until a very specific section. Chelsea chose a few dresses to try on and when they got closer to the dressing rooms, she turned around and looked up at me.

"I want you to help me."

My girlfriend let out of a chuckle and bent down to her level to look at her.

"I don't think Niall's at ease yet." she explained kindly. "I'll help you and you can show him all the dresses you picked, is that okay?"

She stared in her mom's eyes and simply nodded before turning to me again. "I'll show you all of them!"

She rushed in a room and I let out a chuckle again at how endearing and incredible she was. They both disappeared behind the door and I waited a few minutes for them to get out. Chelsea walked out first and turned on herself as soon as she stepped out, making the bottom of her dress dance around her. It was pink with some white sparkles and my smile grew again. It only left when she turned to the mirror and I noticed the necklace she was wearing. A simple key with a purple gem laying nicely around her neck could be clearly seen on her reflection and I held my breath. I thought my girlfriend had gotten rid of it when we weren't together but she actually kept it to give it to our daughter and the gesture made me emotional. I swallowed the feelings threatening to burst out but it still invaded my whole body, bringing an unknown until now sensation inside me. I didn't know if it was love, endearment, gratitude or happiness but it felt like a mix of all of those.

"I love your necklace, Chelsea." I finally managed to let out after clearing my throat.

My girlfriend stopped moving and looked up at me in the mirror, her reflection staring at me. I couldn't quite decipher her expression but I didn't want her to feel bad about it and I sent her a fond smile. It took her a few seconds but her traits eventually softened and she smiled back at me with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you!" Chelsea answered, making my gaze move down. "It's from my daddy!"

My heart twisted in my chest and I swallowed an emotional lump for the second time. Knowing my girlfriend told our daughter about me, even without telling her who I was, made me happier than I thought it would.

After half an hour, she had picked the dress she wanted and I watched as my girlfriend took her card from her purse. I grabbed her wrist gently and her eyes met mine.

"Please, let me."

We looked intensely at each other for a while without even blinking and she nodded slowly, licking her lips. I knew that was not what she brought me here for but I wanted to do something more for my daughter, and also for her mother. I didn't know if she struggled a lot or not, but I knew it hadn't been easy on her and I was ready to do my part and help in any way I could.

My girlfriend bent down and told Chelsea something but her voice was too low for me to hear. When we walked out, my daughter turned to me with a huge smile.

"Thank you uncle Niall!" she let out a bit too loud. "I will think about you every time I wear it!"

At that point, what really hit me was not how polite she was, or how grateful she seemed to be that I paid for her dress. What hit me was how bad I wanted her to call me 'daddy" instead of 'uncle'. I wanted her to know I was her father, and that I was sorry for being absent all those years. I wanted to tell her that I loved her even if I didn't know her, or even that she was alive. I wanted her to see me like a daughter sees her father. I didn't just want her to know that she had a father that loved her, I wanted her to know it was me, and that in only a fraction of second, she had became my world and would be forever my priority from now on.

I swallowed an other lump of emotions and simply grinned.

"You're welcome, princess." I bowed down low enough. "I'm honored."

HER

Watching them interact was more amazing every time. There was a bond forming between them and seeing it tighten in front of me was incredible. I almost felt like I didn't belong and although I loved spending time alone with Niall, being the three of us together brought me a kind of happiness I hadn't felt before.

We kept following Chelsea through the mall, checking the stores she was interested in and refusing to buy every single thing she asked me whenever we entered a new place. The dress was a gift but she really needed new pants and t-shirts. It took a long time to pick tops and bottoms that actually matched when we finally left the last store, Niall and I were not only exhausted but also a bit annoyed by all the shopping we had made. On the other hand, Chelsea still had a lot of energy. We stopped for fast food and when we were about to walk out of the restaurant, Niall stopped by a small vending machine. Chelsea and I stopped too and walked back to him as I frowned. He put a few coins in it and turned the handle. We watched as something fell and he bent down to grab it, opening it quickly and handing it to our daughter.

Her face seemed to illuminate and he got down on one knee, smiling to her. I couldn't help but feel endeared by the scene in front of me. I knew what kind of boyfriend Niall was, but I didn't know what kind of father he could be. I now realized that he was just as adorable.

"A princess deserves a pretty ring, don't you think?"

She smiled and nodded as he took the plastic ring and grabbed her hand, slipping it on her middle finger. The ring was slightly too loose but it didn't seem to bother Chelsea at all. Her lips curled as much as they physically could and she finally threw herself into Niall's arms. He seemed surprised at first but he took her into a warm embrace and closed his eyes.

"Thank you."

Her voice was low, almost a whisper, and it was surprising I even heard it. Niall smiled more, his eyes still closed, and at that exact moment, I realized something. I always thought Chelsea needed a father. It was in the way she asked me about him, and how it seemed to be something missing in her life. But as I watched Niall interact with her and giving her all the love she deserved, I realized that he needed her just as much as she needed him. Maybe more, even.

"You're welcome my princess."

The fact that I denied him four years of this made me feel even more guilty and I held my breath, trying to calm the erratic beatings of my heart. If only I could go back in time...

It kept bothering me through the whole day, and the feeling of culpability became harsher by the minute. It had never really left me since the day we saw Niall again but now that I was completely aware of all the wrongs I did and pain I caused, it was even worse. I kept both of them from so much love and happiness with each other through these years and I clearly would never forgive myself for it. I knew Niall would never forgive me either and It took me all my strength not to start crying. Would Chelsea ever forgive me? She probably wouldn't be mad at me when she'll find out but in a few years, she'll be able to understand exactly what I did and thinking about my own daughter hating me was something that scared me more than I thought it would.

I kept quite until we were sitting in Niall's kitchen once again. I played with my food, not feeling hungry at all, while Niall and Chelsea were having a discussion. He was telling her about his socks collection and she excitedly asked to see it. I stopped listening to them, lost in my thoughts, and jumped slightly when I heard my name.

"Are you okay, love?"

Chelsea laughed and I looked up, watching as Niall's eyes moved to her.

"What makes you laugh, Chels?"

"You called her 'love'" she pointed out, making a small smile form on my lips. "That means you love her."

She was still young and didn't really understand it was a simple nickname and that Niall used it with many people. The nuances were not as obvious for her as they were for us. I chuckled low but remained silent, curious to find out how Niall would get out of this one. I knew he was very good at twisting things around to be sure he wouldn't have to answer a question he didn't like. I leaned my elbow on the table, placing my chin in my hand, and stared at him.

"Maybe I do, Chelsea." he simply said. "In fact, I do love her."

I held my breath, my heart now beating so hard against my rib cage I felt like it was going to just fly out. My brain had a hard time processing his words and my lips parted slightly in shock.

"And I also love you, Chelsea."

I blinked a few times, trying to get back to my senses and inhaled deeply, turning to look at my daughter who was smiling.

"I love you too, uncle Niall."

He brought his hand to her cheek and caressed it gently before raising his eyebrows and pointing her plate with his chin.

"Are you done?"

She nodded slowly and yawned, rubbing her eyes with a sigh. It took me all my strength to move but I finally got up and turned Chelsea's chair my way.

"Bed time, we had a long day."

"Nooooo! I want to watch a movie!" she whined.

It would normally make me smile but I was too startled to be completely normal. I knew it would take me a few minutes to let everything that just happened sink in and I was barely aware of what I was doing.

"It's late. You can watch a movie tomorrow." I pointed out. "Do you want to sleep here again tonight?"

Chelsea seemed to think and finally nodded just as Niall got up too, his chair making an annoying noise.

"I'll put her to bed if you want."

Our daughter rushed to him and threw herself in his arms, making him laugh. I looked up and our eyes met. He sent me a fond smile and I felt my heart melt and my lips curl. I had so many questions that needed immediate answers, so many thoughts I wanted to share, and so many memories that rushed back to my brain.

"Yea, thank you."

He winked at me and I smiled more. I remained motionless, standing in the middle of the kitchen, a bit overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the past few days. I kept wondering if he meant what he had said a few minutes earlier and if he did, what exactly did it imply? In the end, I just shook my head. Niall loved me, that's what he said. And I loved him, I never stopped. There was nothing to process or comprehend. I let the truth flood my insides and swallowed hard as tears invaded my eyes. Even in my wildest dreams, I hadn't allowed my imagination to go that far.

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fic #niall horan writing #niall horan story #daddy!niall #niall #niall fanfic #niall fan fic #niall fic #niall writing #niall story #niall fluff #my fanfics #i never know how to tag this tbh lol

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trevardes · 5 years

Text

Keep that breathless charm (hankcon)

1900 words of Connor feeling very confusing things for Hank. Set after the Nest Mission. Title from The way you look tonight. Also on Ao3. For @ccrescentscar <3

Keep that breathless charm

Connor looks at Lieutenant Anderson and feels conflicted.

That in itself is an oxymoron; should be an oxymoron, a statement so outrageously impossible that it should collapse under its own weight. It should, but it doesn’t. Connor, an android made to be inhuman and immovable, looks at Hank Anderson, this man, this human, and feels.

Anderson’s facial expression is closed off, the corners of his mouth tight and his gaze downcast. His hand rests on the steering wheel, the key in the ignition turned and the car’s motor running, but Anderson doesn’t drive. He sits there, quiet, lost in thought. He seems unreachable, far away even though he’s sitting right there, close enough to touch. Connor is excellent at reading people, his programming covers a wide range of expressions and all of their possible indications. He’s had more training in this than any other android, and his system as a whole is geared towards understanding and analyzing humanity. It is not often that he has this much trouble understanding someone’s surface emotions, especially if he’s situated this close to them.

Right now he is having problems though, and it unsettles him. Anderson is thinking about something, thinking hard, but beyond this realization, Connor has no idea what’s going on inside his head.

Honestly, he’s not quite sure what’s going on inside his own head, either.

The image of Anderson hanging off the ledge of the roof is etched deep into Connor, still sending a weak spike of distress through him when he thinks of it. It was a split second decision to help him, and there was no question that Connor would, even though Anderson had a high probability of surviving on his own. Helping him cost Connor the deviant, cost him the mission, but in that moment it ceased to matter. Connor weighed his options and reflexively chose the one that would ensure Anderson’s safety.

Now that Connor returns to the scene in his mind, he begins to question his actions. Anderson is in good enough physical condition that he could very well have pulled himself up without assistance, and Connor could have caught the deviant. There was just this… pull, towards Anderson, to save him, to keep him safe. It’s there even now, when Connor looks at the lieutenant’s unreadable profile. An anomaly, a malfunction somewhere in the code that he’s made of, a stark positive instead of a cool, indifferent negative. A tilt towards something, when everything about him should be flat and neutral.

“Lieutenant Anderson”, Connor says, attempting a calm tone. It works to a satisfactory degree, but he does indeed have to actively try and make it that way, and that is jarring. His voice comes out exactly like it always does, clear but a little soft at the edges. It sounds too loud in the quiet, still air inside the car.

“Yeah?” Anderson says, still not looking at Connor.

“Is something wrong?” Connor inquires, quieter this time. He tries for a kind and open tone. It comes out falsely intimate, and a quick frown flashes across Connor’s face. He immediately runs a diagnostic of his voice box and it’s programming, but comes up with no clear reason for the strange lapse. Nothing there is in need of repair, nothing is out of place.

“You seem quiet”, he continues. Could Anderson be angry with him for letting the deviant escape? He’d seemed happy with Connor’s decision earlier, content and even a little proud, but all of that is gone now.

“Nah”, Anderson sighs. “I’m just a bit confused. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the epitome of reason and logic?”

“I suppose you could say that”, Connor muses. “How do you mean?”

“Why choose to pull me up then? Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it”, Anderson chuckles humorlessly. “I just don’t get you androids.”

“I felt it was more important to insure your ability to continue with our investigation, than to catch a single deviant. There are still several cases left for us to look into.” This is not the whole truth, Connor knows. Still, he manages to keep the cadence of his voice even and steady.

Anderson hums, seemingly satisfied with his answer. His brow smoothes a bit, and he looks closer to his usual brand of grumpy. Something about his eyes is still different; his pupils a fraction of a millimetre wider than normal. His hand squeezes the steering wheel, and his left leg bounces slightly. A nervous tick Connor has grown familiar with, and almost fond of.

“Thanks anyway”, Anderson finally rasps, after a long silence. “I do like to live.”

“Do you really?” Connor whispers before he can stop himself. Anderson doesn’t seem like he does. Connor knows he drinks too much and too often, doesn’t get enough sleep, doesn’t maintain a healthy diet. Connor has analysed him and accessed all files available to him. He knows more than he should. Hank Anderson has no spouse, no known family at all. He has a note of a divorce in his file, and a grave he visits sometimes, on the rainiest days. He often comes to work late, hungover, looking tired and depressed. He pushes people away and builds walls around himself, not unlike the firewalls surrounding Connor’s essence and protecting him and every other android from viruses. In Anderson’s case though, the walls don’t necessarily signify self-preservation.

Anderson’s mouth draws into a thin line and his eyes go squinty in annoyance.

“It’s not your damned mission to investigate me, is it? Stick to your job, R2.”

A reference to an old movie franchise. Connor is only equipped with a cursory information package on older American pop culture, and he’s uncertain why Anderson would call him by the droid R2D2’s name. There seem to be no similarities between them. Connor neither speaks in beeps, looks like a large bucket, nor could reasonably be described as ‘cute’.

“True”, Connor concedes. “However, it is my duty to keep you in working condition to the best of my ability, as you are my partner and as such, essential to my work.”

Anderson makes a sound of annoyance and perhaps of contempt, and shifts his leg on the pedals. He puts the car into drive, and pulls out of the alley and into a larger, slightly busier road. He doesn't seem eager to stay on the subjects, and for now, Connor lets it slide.

Following their usual pattern, Anderson is going to give Connor a ride before going home himself. Connor could take the bus, it would be no inconvenience to him whatsoever. He’s an android, they don’t feel discomfort like that. Connor should say this to Anderson. He should leave the car and let the man go on his own.

Despite being an android, a decidedly emotionless machine, Connor feels a twinge of… unease, perhaps, at the thought of the lieutenant going home alone. Unease and sadness. He turns to look at Anderson again.

Hank Anderson is 53 years old, but life has worn him down, so much that he could pass for older. His hair and beard are silvery gray, and lines web the outer corners of his eyes. Something tells Connor they might’ve been from laughter, originally, but nowadays Anderson doesn’t have many reasons even to smile.

Despite the signs of aging, or perhaps partly because of them, there is something intriguing about Anderson. He looks pleasant and warm on the rare occasions he smiles. Often those smiles are a bit malicious and at the expense of androids or other humans, but Connor still finds them perplexingly delightful. Anderson has straight teeth and deep, clear eyes. His eyelids are a little heavy, lending a softness to his features that otherwise wouldn’t exist.

They drive in silence for a moment, until Anderson reaches out a hand and switches on the ancient CD-player on the dash. Soft, melancholy jazz music fills the car, and a small smile tilts the corner of Anderson’s mouth. Right then he looks so… so affable, so human.

Connor feels something twist up in his chest, some unidentified circuit there firing a soft pulse out of rhythm with the rest of him. His fingers twitch and his teeth dig into his lower lip on their own volition. A soft, persistent burning sets ablaze his mind, his wires, all of him.

He’s glad he pulled Anderson up from the ledge. He’s glad he’s sitting here so close to him.

He’s glad.

His thirium pump quickens it’s rhythm, adds two beats to its normal bpm. Error notifications pop up in his vision. There’s a software instability, accompanied by a strange feeling, a warm ache inside his chest and head, even though they’ve received no damage recently.

Connor doesn’t need to breathe, but he draws in a slow gulp of air nevertheless, quietly enough that Anderson doesn’t notice anything is amiss. Anderson keeps humming along to the song, and the low, scratchy sound of it takes a hold of Connor’s spine, sends a painful shiver through him. Connor doesn’t need to breathe, but he forgets that and feels breathless anyway. A new alert about rising levels of distress flashes red at the corner of his field of vision. His LED spins yellow, fast and frantic. It flickers into red and back to yellow, and Connor hopes Anderson won’t notice it.

He ignores his objectives that tell him it should be impossible, and deletes all the notifications.

His body temperature has risen 3,9 degrees above normal. He forces it down by diverting more power to his coolers, and tries to sit still.

He erases his action log for the last five minutes, deletes any traces of deleting the notifications. It’s a feeble attempt at covering up what he’s done, easily reversed by anyone with any skill at programming, but something compels him to do it. He knows he should turn himself in for examinations. He should receive a recalibration as soon as possible. It should be a given. He is a state of the art prototype, an incredibly important and expensive experiment that CyberLife can’t afford to lose to… to deviancy. He should send a message right now and tell them everything, tell them he’ll be coming in for assessment and subsequent reprogramming.

The command to report and fix any errors is an integral part the program of the android RK800 #313 248 317 - 51. It is not an entity with any authority to decide how to act in a situation like this. It should revert back to protocol right now.

It doesn’t. Connor doesn’t.

He turns sideways in his seat and watches lieutenant Anderson. He commits to memory all the details of this man; his shape, his familiar scent, his voice as he hums along with the music for a few notes. Lieutenant Anderson doesn’t know anything about what he has awoken inside Connor. He never will, because Connor will not tell him, will not tell anyone. He lets out a quiet, shivering breath and settles back against his seat. Squeezes his seat belt between his fingers and tries to let the music calm him.

Anderson doesn’t notice Connor’s distress. He looks the same as always, worn and tired, but tonight everything about him is unsettling and beautiful. For the first time since he was made and switched on, Connor wishes he could touch. Wishes he could smooth a thumb along the lines in Anderson’s skin, down his bearded cheek. It’s new, this confusing desire, but it settles inside Connor like it’s always been there, this familiar, gentle longing.

Anderson keeps driving, and Connor watches him out of the corner of his eye, feeling the sweet corruption spread through him, to every circuit and every nerve.

#detroit: become human #hankcon #hannor #connor #hank anderson #dbh #rk800 #hank #detroit: bh #vee writes #my fic #set after the nest mission #fic #english

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garden-ghoul · 5 years

Link

I finally remembered DURING the weekend to record my notes on Sourcery! In this one you can hear me: enjoying doing a Rincewind voice. Clocks in at 19:26 (I’m going to start putting in episode length because it seems like the kind of thing people will like to know.) Transcript under the cut.

HELLO and welcome to episode 4 of what I am now calling “It’s Yelling All the Way Down.” Because it just seemed a bit egotistical to ascribe critical analysis to myself. This week* I’ve drawn the number 5, which means we’re reading Sourcery. With a U. Before reading this book I did not remember a single thing about it except that the main character is perhaps… a sorcerer? And is named Coin. Also according to the summary this is a Rincewind book, the first one since The Light Fantastic. I think he might have died in that one. But no matter, he’s back!

A bit about wizards, before we begin:

We’ve already seen witches, who are my favorites. Pratchett was fond of saying “if men were witches, they would be wizards,” which I think is supposed to be a comment on how men are socialized to be self-important and relatively useless and ask for more credit than they deserve? Although it could just be gender essentialism. Anyway, that’s what wizards do. We very briefly met some in Jingo, where as you might recall they were extorting money from the city-state under threat of magical mayhem. We’ll see more of exactly that in this book! Let’s get right to it.

Now, on Earth (or Roundworld, as it is sometimes called), specifically in England, seven is considered to be a magical number. So much so that whoever perpetrated ROY G BIV (Newton, maybe?) invented several colors just so a rainbow would have seven of them. On the Disc there is an eighth color, inspired by the extra little echoey bit on the inside of a rainbow that is both green AND purple; this color is called octarine. That’s not what the introduction is about, it’s about the eighth son of an eighth son, who of course has become a wizard. But I’m sure it will come up, and then we’ll be prepared, won’t we?

Now this eighth son of an eighth son, he had seven sons, each one from the cradle at least as powerful as any wizard in the world.

And then he had an eighth son...

A wizard squared. A source of magic.

A sourcerer.

We join this double-eight wizard with his young eighth son on the shingle, where he’s having a chat with DEATH. DEATH is a friendly sort. Likes cats. Very little patience with wizards who are trying to create a magical destiny for babies. Because all prophecies require loopholes, the double-eight wizard prophesies that his son will become the mightiest and everyone will bow before him, et cetera et cetera, UNLESS… he throws his staff away. And then the wizard gets struck by lightning and as he dies he puts his soul into the staff. The kid also got struck by lightning but he’s fine. As you may have guessed, this kid is our protagonist, Coin, the sourcerer.

Cut to Unseen University, on the eve of the appointment of a new arch-chancellor. The books in the library are uneasy. The university seems to be sinking. The rats, mice, ants, and even the gargoyles off the roof are abandoning ship. Rincewind and the Librarian seem to be the only wizards who have noticed, although as we are told Rincewind is so bad at wizardry that he’s actually worse than non-wizards. One wonders how he was admitted to the university, because he doesn’t seem rich. Is it just that EVERY eighth son gets in because it makes them A Wizard? Anyway, he’s an assistant librarian (honorary) so he invites the Librarian out for drinks just to get him out of the University.

This means they’re going to miss the arch-chancellor accession feast, which is probably for the best because Coin is going to be there, and you can bet his dad’s been whispering in his ear about what ought to be done to the rest of the wizards who kicked him out. Indeed, he walks right in and challenges the most powerful immediately available wizard to a magical duel, lets him do a party trick, and then vaporizes him. He’s ten, and is set up as a Creepy Child: he stares through people rather than looking at them, talks a bit like an encyclopedia, and clearly hasn’t heard of ethics. The wizards immediately accept him as their arch-chancellor, realizing that it will be incredibly easy to manipulate this kid into doing whatever they want by making him think he has the sort of power that matters.

Lots of good mentions here of how wizards instinctively distrust each other; wizard politics; assassinations; mind games. Nevertheless, two wizards have made a cautious alliance to deal with the threat Coin represents. Spelter, the Bursar and a fifth level wizard; and Carding, an eighth-level wizard (that’s the highest level).

Let us leave them there for a moment to follow the thief who has stolen the arch-chancellor’s hat, which seems to be a talking hat and actually quite keen to be stolen. This thief has tracked down Rincewind, the only readily apparent wizard outside of the university, and is trying to kidnap him for some kind of dangerous wizard mission, under threat of death. The mission is to bring the arch-chancellor’s hat to Klatch, where “there is someone fit to wear us.” There’s a brief misadventure where the hat is stolen, apparently to show off that it can kill people on its own just fine. It’s pretty clear that the hat is full of wizards in the same way Coin’s staff is full of his awful dad, setting us up for a battle of evil and evil: there are plenty of battles in which neither side is correct.

A bit about the thief: her name is Conina, and in my opinion far too much is being made of her looks. She has an apparently hereditary urge to murder, basically a hair trigger with throwing knives, which is unfortunate for her because she wants to be a hairdresser. She can’t see the tools of the trade without imagining doing a murder with them. I was pretty into this whole high fantasy parody thing Pratchett was doing until he started parodying sexist tropes by, uh, just straight up putting sexist tropes in his book. Not his finest hour.

At the university, most of the wizards are enjoying all the extra magic pouring out of Coin. They can do exciting spells now! As soon as Coin starts doing exciting spells, though, they remember they’re afraid of him. He appearifies the Patrician—good old Vetinari, who hasn’t yet been characterized beyond being the sort of person who says “what is the meaning of this?”—and turns him into a lizard. Because wizards should rule the city, you see? Not people who understand politics. Coin has a very ten-year-old understanding of what it means to rule. One imagines him ruling so thoroughly that all he has left is a bunch of lizards and then I’m sure he’d feel rather foolish.

The wizards take their cues from Coin and go out to terrorize the city, and they seem to have a great time. But wizards, like everyone else, fundamentally want certainty and familiarity in their lives. And Coin is scaring them. At this point we start to wonder to what extent Coin’s mind actually is his own, because he’s saying incredibly ominous grown-up things like “who among you has been into your dark library these past few days? The magic is inside you now, not imprisoned between covers. Is that not a joyous thing?” You know, sort of cognitively, one doesn’t expect a ten-year-old either to speak like this or to be this single-minded. It’s worrying. Is he okay? What thoughts does he think?

In the oppressively quiet darkness of night in a university under new rule, Spelter hears someone quietly crying. When he looks into the room Coin is on the bed sobbing while his staff whispers to him. The next day “Coin” announces that they’re going to burn down the library, 90,000 books, many of them sentient. Spelter barely manages to tell the librarian, who’s barricaded in, before he comes across the staff and it vaporizes him.

Let’s see what Conina and Rincewind are up to. Oh, getting attacked by pirates! Conina murders a whole bunch of them but some do make off with the hat, so when they land she decides they ought to go somewhere in port they can get attacked by The Criminal Element. This will allow them to get information or something. Look, Conina just wants to get in a fight, and I can respect that.

I also want to check in with Rincewind because I think the way he’s written is pretty interesting. His psyche seems very uncomplicated: at most times he’s just thinking about how he can avoid getting attacked and get as far away from danger as possible. And being racist about how they don’t do things proper in Al Khali. But we get occasional interjections from his conscience and, now, his libido, which gives the feeling that he works hard to suppress any thoughts he feels are foreign to his lifestyle. Pratchett reinforces this foreignness by portraying them as voices Rincewind doesn’t recognize. He has a suspicion that he’s falling in love, but doesn’t like it. He only has physiological symptoms, as far as I can tell. So we get this picture of a person completely out of tune not only with his body but with his mind as well, who has worn such a deep psychological groove of habit that he can’t conceive of climbing out of it.

Anyway, Conina and Rincewind are kidnapped by the ruler of the city, who is called a Seriph because heaven forbid Sir Terry let any small detail go un-pastiched. The Seriph’s grand vizier has possession of the arch-chancellor’s hat and is aware that it’s dangerous, because it told him. Also he’s evil, because a grand vizier’s got to be evil. He imprisons our heroes I guess, but very shortly afterward the amount of ambient magic skyrockets and there are a ton of wizards from Unseen University there! Halfway across the Disc! The vizier turns up, having had his mind taken over by the arch-chancellor’s hat and declaring that wizards are taking back what’s theirs from sourcerers. I like this, we have two opposing magical forces, both figureheaded by humas but in fact ruled by inanimate objects with echoes of dead minds inside.

And, yes, just a few pages later Rincewind states one of the major themes of the book!

“That’s what you people never understand,” said Rincewind, wearily. “You think magic is just something you can pick up and use, but the truth is, magic uses people. It affects you as much as you affect it, sort of thing. You can’t mess around with magical things without it affecting you.”

After hearing so much about the thousand-year, horrifyingly destructive Mage Wars, it’s pretty clear that magic isn’t just magic here. Any kind of power corrupts, and if in this book it happens to corrupt not because of human nature but because of its own malice—well, that’s metaphors for you. Anyway Rincewind and company escape on a magic flying carpet, which is using him as a conduit to fly itself, per usual.

Then we get this honestly really cool scene where the fleeing heroes are camped out on a beach watching spells streaking across the sky like meteors over the Circle Sea: the hat’s tower in Al Khali doing battle with Coin’s tower in Ankh. Shockwaves ripple across them, and in his sleep Rincewind is trying to build a tower, which seems to be some kind of wizardly instinct. As soon as he can he steals the flying carpet and absent-mindedly heads for Ankh-Morpork because he thinks of it as his home base. Over the ocean we see other wizards’ towers springing up everywhere: they’re all joining in the war. I love this sort of distant apocalypse imagery, the contrast between the peace of a totally uninhabited area and the massive devastation that from far away looks kind of pretty. Here at the end of all things.

Rincewind returns to a city totally unlike the one he left: gleaming white marble, fountains, and not a single soul. Smoke boils up from the university’s tower, which is slagged and melted but still firing off terrifying magic at the tower in the next city-state over. And the library, where Rincewind spent a lot of very happily boring time as an assistant librarian, lies in ashes. Rincewind goes into the tower. The flashes of magic illuminate the librarian and many of his 90,000 books, which flew in to take shelter when the library burned. He tells Rincewind to put a stop to all this sourcery, seeing as Rincewind seems to be the only other wizard who hasn’t gone mad with power (the reason being, he hasn’t got any). And obviously the librarian has his books to tend to. So Rincewind puts a half-brick in a sock and starts up the tower.

In the top of the tower the Ankh wizards defeat Quirm, and then when the hat is momentarily distracted, they defeat Al Khali too. But Coin is still an open doorway through which magic pours into the world. “Can you hear them?” asks Carding. “You’re pouring sourcery into the world and other things are coming with it.” I have always liked this image, of a great number of terrible things just barely compelled to stay outside of the circle of the universe, and being invited in when too much magic is used. For a moment the staff is indisposed horribly murdering Carding and Coin is uncertain, upset that a man is dead. Then it returns to his hands and he says: let’s fight the gods. I was expecting it to be a bit more of a thing but he settles it in about a paragraph: we’ll just put them inside this bubble, there we are. Just then Rincewind staggers up over the edge of the tower, swinging his half-brick. His exchange with Coin is… absolutely delightful. They’re at exact opposite ends of the wizard spectrum.

“I have come,” said Rincewind thickly, “to challenge the sourcerer. Which one is he?” He surveyed the prostrate wizardry, hefting the half-brick in one hand.

One of the wizards risked a glance upwards and made frantic eyebrow movements at Rincewind who, even at the best of times, wasn’t much good at interpreting non-verbal communication. This wasn’t the best of times.

“With a sock?” said Coin. “What good is a sock?”

The arm holding the staff rose. Coin looked down at it in mild astonishment. “No, stop,” he said. “I want to talk to this man.” He stared at Rincewind, who was swaying back and forth under the influence of sleeplessness, horror and the after-effects of an adrenaline overdose. “Is it magical?” he said, curiously. “Perhaps it is the sock of an Archchancellor? A sock of force?”

Rincewind focused on it. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I think I bought it in a shop or something. Um. I’ve got another one somewhere.”

“But in the end it has something heavy?”

“Um. Yes,” said Rincewind. He added, “It’s a half-brick.”

“But it has great power.”

“Er. You can hold things up with it. If you had another one, you’d have a brick.” Rincewind spoke slowly. He was assimilating the situation by a kind of awful osmosis, and watching the staff turn ominously in the boy’s hand.

“So. It is a brick of ordinariness, within a sock. The whole becoming a weapon.”

“Um. Yes.”

“How does it work?”

“Um. You swing it, and then you. Hit something with it.”

The staff tells Coin to kill Rincewind, but Coin is hesitant, because Rincewind looks like “an angry rabbit,” and is probably harmless. “Why should I do everything you tell me?” says Coin to the staff. “I always do everything you tell me, and it doesn’t help people at all.” Basically it’s like asking a kid to murder a clown. He’s so funny! Why should I kill him!

The staff tortures him a bit. Might I remind you: his ten-year-old son. Rincewind thinks this is a bit much and whacks the staff out of his hand with the half-brick-in-sock. He actually steps in front of Coin to defend him from the staff, even though bravery and altruism are really not his thing. And Coin catches the staff, and throws it away. It comes back, of course, and they do battle. All the wizards are terrified, and Rincewind looks around accusingly at the wizards who won’t help this ten-year-old fighting for his life and the fate of reality itself. All we see of Rincewind’s intervention is his seared hat floating gently to the ground.

He and Coin wake up on the cold black sand of the Dungeon Dimension, staring at the backs of the Things that are trying to break into the universe. The staff has been melted and Rincewind decides to be a real hero one more time and attack the Things with a sock full of sand as a distraction so Coin can get out of there. Which he does. And then the door closes, and Rincewind is stuck in the Dungeon Dimension. We’ll see him again later, don’t worry.

As a minor footnote, the apocalypse is happening out there. It’s a Norse-style apocalypse: the gods have vanished, so ice giants are taking over the world. The librarian gets the pearl full of all the gods and sort of throws it and they come out and reverse the apocalypse, I guess. And then Coin undoes everything he did, and I THINK he also erases everyone’s memory of the very brief Mage War. And because he’s lost and alone and doesn’t know what he wants at all… he steps out of the universe, into a simpler, nicer one. A small universe with a garden. And the door closes behind him.

The book ends in the library, where the books have come back to roost and it’s warm and quiet. The librarian has put Rincewind’s hat in a minor ceremonial niche, because “a wizard will ALWAYS come back for his hat.” Listen, I think the librarian might be a bit sweet on Rincewind. It’s very cute.

So, thus ends the book! This one doesn’t have a whole lot of themes since the main purpose of it is to be a fun fantasy adventure with an absolutely kicking climax. I’d say the main one is that Sir Terry vastly prefers consistency to excitement and that war is bad. Oh, hey, that’s a lot like the last one, isn’t it? And there’s also a bit of a warning about how allowing yourself to have power is always a very dangerous balancing game. Humans always have to be careful not to forget how dangerous it is to have power, and how the only way to use it even a little bit well is to think scrupulously of the masses of normal people your actions affect. I feel like he’d agree with my (rather unwilling) stance on Ethical Anxiety. Which is to say, he might understand why I am constantly extremely anxious about taking ethical actions.

Today’s thought, Shabbat shalom, is to ask yourself how you are using the power you have, and ask yourself where you get your ethics: your parents? Your friends? The news? Which news? That’s all for now. This has been It’s Yelling All the Way Down, intro and end music is TOKiMONSTA’s “Hungry Stomach.” Bye!

#discworld #audio #it's yelling all the way down

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dcladies-secretsanta · 5 years

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Titans

TO: @dccomicsbookshelf

FROM: Your Secret Santa

Done Right Steph and Cass were surveying Gotham from their favorite perch in the city, all the bats had a favorite vantage point. Theirs happened to be the very top of a semi popular casino. Way up on the neon blue sign saying “Fortune!”. It wasn’t really known for its originality. It was a fairly quiet night in Gotham, they’d only had to stop five bank robberies and three were at the same place down the block. Cass was quietly enjoying ice cream and watching the sober people entering the casino as the distraught and less than sober people leaving.

“I think I’ve had my fill of inaction. I kinda want to beat someone up.” Steph said with a huff. Cass tilted her head.

“Yes.” She said with a decisive nod. Steph pulled out binoculars and scanned the skyline, that was when the lenses went dark. Steph pulled away and blinked in surprise at the hovering amazonian. Donna Troy was smirking at them.

“My sisters in arms, Starfire and I require your aid, will you join us?” She asked, Steph always forgot how ripped donna was. She was starring a little too long at her arms.

“Uh yes, Yes! Sorry, we’re in. RIght Cass?” Cass nodded tossing her cone which elicited a a faint cry of anger from below.

“What’s the crisis?” Asked Steph Donna extended her arms and each batgirl grabbed a hand as Donna flew northward.

“A most peculiar alliance has formed between unlikely allies. It would seem Riddler, Dr. Light, Captain Cold, and Mr. Zsasz have taken hostages in some heist. The purpose is yet unclear but it is dire nonetheless.” Donna said, Cass threw a sideways glance at Steph who hid a snicker.

“Why, do you need our help? I’m sure you and Starfire could easily handle them.” Hell one of them might have been able to take on all four of them.

“We require a more subtle unit in this battle, we know nothing of the layout of the building, nor what hostilities may lie in wait. Additionally Star and I are not particularly adept at avoiding notice.” Cass smirked.

“Yes.” Steph grinned. “Alright, so Cass and I sneak in, get the scoop, you bust in, we rescue the hostages and beat the bad guys. Sounds easy enough. Where’s Star?”

“Star awaits at the scene, making sure it does not escalate why I gathered reinforcements.”

The rest of the flight was mostly silent, and brief, Donna was pretty fast. They arrived at the Gotham science department, it was odd because none of the listed villains had a particular fixation with science. Star was watching the building from a rooftop across the street.

“Oh salutations friends! I’m so glad you have joined us!” Cass chuckled and waved. “Any developments Star?” Steph asked pulling out the binoculars to see into the building, She sighed as she couldn’t see anything.

“The police are doing their best but they are, as they say, at a standstill.” “Cass let’s enter through the roof access, Donna, Star, take these, this is how we’ll stay in contact.” Steph handed them earpieces. She and cass then slipped into the darkness and Donna soon lost track of them.

“Do you think our friends have the what it takes?” Star asked concerned.

“Without a shadow of a doubt Star.” Star hovered back and forth. “Be at ease, they are skilled warriors, you need not fret.” Star nodded and took a few deep breaths.

“Am I correct that there are six sidekicks to the Batman?” Donna smirked “Verily there are two more, the one called Oracle and the mighty Batwing.” Starfire shook her head.

“Nightwing had always said his family was quite complicated.” “There is even another, she is not counted among the children, a batwoman, and Batman has a lover called Catwoman. I’ve heard a few of them speak fondly of an Alfred and a hound called Ace. I think it is more complicated than even they are aware.” Star giggled.

“I would very much like to meet a ferocious Bathound!” They both laughed quietly at that. “What is next a Batcow?” Donna said between fits causing them both to erupt into laughter again. After a few moments the giggles and tears subsided.

“Are there more of you Donna?” Donna shrugged. “I suppose I have no room to jest for there is another Wonder Girl named Cassie, Diana has a Kangaroo named Jumpa, and I heard rumour of a brother. There’s also a fierce Amazon by the name of Artemis, she has been Wonder Woman once or twice.” Star nodded smiling.

“Is it nice to have such a group?” Donna nodded. “We are bound by the deepest sense of sisterhood, I know that even in times of peace my sister will always be there with me.” She said fondly staring up at the night sky lost in memory. “Surely a Princess of Tamaran has many warrior friends?” Donna said turning her attention to the fiery alien.

“Well I have a as you say, caretaker who was most kind. I have a sister but my sister is... most unpleasant. We used to be close, the last few times we’ve encountered one another it has ended in violence.” Star said closing her eyes to the hurtful memory.

“Not all sisters are from blood or comradery in arms, some are formed through friendship.” Donna said placing a hand on Starfire’s shoulder. Star smiled.

“Thank you Donna, your words are quite the comfort.” “Spoiler to Troia, Black Bat and I have located the hostages, it looks like there’s 9 scientists. Meanwhile the bad guys are rounding up the tech from one of the labs. It looks like they plan to destroy it. I can’t tell what it is from my vantage point but it looks like it deals with brain waves of some kind. I see a few headgears.”

“Well done Spoiler, what of bombs or traps?” “There’s none that we can make out but Riddler is a tricky son of a bitch.” “Do they have a route for the escaping?” Star asked. “Strangely no, they look like they might plan to just head out the front door. Their only superpowered members are Cold and Light, and while they’re dangerous they could potentially be overwhelmed by gunfire. Another strange thing is that they aren’t talking to one another. It’s just silent, no arguing or barking orders.” Star and Donna exchanged a perturbed glance.

“Are you able to cause a distraction or rescue any of the hostages?” Steph laughed over the radio.

“When you see it fly in and grab some hostages alright?”

“See what?”Star asked confused only to be answered by a boom, and a billowing of smoke that could be seen through the windows.

“Ohhh, I should have known, Nightwing is fond of the smoke bombs.” “Let’s go!” Donna shouted and the two swooped inside, a quick sweep said the smoke was surrounding the bad guys and the hostages were clustered together in the corner. Donna and Star extended their hands allowing three people to grab a hold per arm. One climbed on Donna’s back and they swiftly carried the hostages out to the police. “What are the villain’s interest in your work?” Donna inquired. “The devices they are gathering up are telepathic enhancers and inhibitors. Some generate pockets of psychic interference, others can amplify a psychics range and power levels.” Said a dark skinned woman. She looked like the head of the team.

“Did they say anything else?” Star asked. “No, they just moved silently, they didn’t even seem very interested in us. Several of us were secretly texting family and the police. They didn’t even care. It may be my work clouding my judgement but they act as if they are being controlled.” You could almost see her mind working to put the pieces together.

“Thank you, you’ve been most helpful.” “Spoiler, Black Bat, We are headed in. Be careful there’s a possibility they are being controlled.” Star and Donna flew in once more to see the batgirls engaged in battle. Cold and Light were firing blasts of ice and light at Cass and Steph who were dodging with incredible acrobatics. Cass hurled batarangs, two were frozen but the third detonated sending cold flying. Donna swung her lasso at Zsasz who had run swiping his blade at Cass and yanked him toward her. Star and Dr. Light began hurling light blasts at each other. Their light beams ricocheting dangerously. Riddler threw his own projectiles that Steph avoided easily. Cold got up and hurled more ice daggers at them. Cass and Steph propelled upward, Cass swung around delivering a devastating kick to Cold’s jaw, Star managed to blast Dr. light in the chest while Steph descended from above to land on the riddler. Cuffing him in the process.

Steph and Cass high fived over the defeat of the villains. “Fantastic job friends!” Star cheered. “Who are you working for Zsasz? The Lasso compels you to obey my command.” Zsasz struggled and gasped but did not answer. Donna blinked.

“Answer me!” She commanded, Zsasz suddenly went slack. “Little heroes, you can’t expect me to give up my secrets so easily, you may have won the day, but trust me. I’ll be back.” And with an ominous chuckle Zsasz became unconscious. The four of them stood around feeling a slight sense of foreboding and quickly delivered the criminals to the police.

From a rooftop a few buildings away a woman watched the proceedings with disdain. “Shall I convince them to finish the job your highness?” Asked the man next to her with a wicked grin.

“That won’t be necessary Psimon, the children may have interfered in the destruction of the originals but with all the confusion I believe the research we’ve gathered will make sufficient copies.” Queen Bee smirked at the tablet that now had all the files from the project. Riddler may be annoying but he was useful with a computer.

“Come psimon, I think we have a few upgrades to work on.” and with that the queen of Bialya and her henchman disappeared into the night.

Back at the crime scene out heroes were busy celebrating. “We should do this again, I have a feeling that this particular mission isn’t over yet.” Steph said.

“Agreed.” Said Cass. Donna and Star smiled. “I’d like that.” “As would I!” And the four walked off into the night as well with the beginning of a beautiful team up.

#dc comics #dc fanfic #donna troy #cassandra cain #dcladiessecretsanta2k18 #starfire #stephanie brown #fanfic #dccomicsbookshelf

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tcshearts · 5 years

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Session 1, Chapter 3 - Pursuit

Content Warning: Violence

School on Wednesday is painfully and endlessly dull. I’m incredibly relieved when it’s over and about half an hour after school ends, I change out of my uniform, throw my cloak and mask into a backpack, and walk to the bus stop just outside campus. The bus ride takes about half an hour, and I’m constantly scanning the bus. I’m meeting Kitsune downtown and, as far as I know, she’s a student at the Archduke’s Boarding School too. Could anyone I’m sharing this bus with be a vigilante anarchist with mind control powers?

I look around the bus again, the only thing I actually know about Kitsune is that she’s a teenager and she’s of Japanese heritage. There are a couple of Asian girls on the bus, my classmates. None of them have white hair or a Cheshire grin, but I doubt identifying Kitsune would be that easy. None of them have obviously large backpacks either, so I sigh and look back to the road. Twenty-six minutes later, on the dot, I’m at my stop, the buses in Oru are always on time, we don’t have traffic or accidents. The Archduke mandated that all vehicles be self-driving and run on a fairly strict schedule. Nobody else got off at the stop with me, but that was intentional. I can’t afford to have my identity revealed, so I got off about two stops ahead of where I’m actually going. I can just change here and walk.

I walk about a block before ducking into an alley, checking around constantly to make sure I’m not being watched and that nobody followed me. I quickly pull my cloak and mask out of the backpack, throwing my jacket into it and leaving it tucked away behind some old boxes. The mask feels uncomfortably tight on my face, pressing up against my glasses. I couldn’t take them off, because, while having a conversation and walking a few blocks without my glasses is entirely possible, trying to read street signs from a distance isn’t.

I climb the fire escape up to the rooftop of the far building of the alleyway, ducking down to avoid being seen. I glance down every few blocks and try to make out the names of the streets through my painted lenses. Eventually, I see the street I’m looking for, it’s in one of the poorer districts of Oru, an anarchist district that basically treats Kitsune like a spirit. I knew if I were going to meet her, it would have to be on her terms. I climb down to street level and look at signs of shops until I finally see the place, Baldur’s, and the cloaked and masked figure outside it.

She’s dressed in a black cloak, slightly darker than mine, and is wearing a bright white mask with a fox face on it. Beneath that, she wears some kind of black long-sleeved shirt, white gloves, loose black jeans, and black combat boots. She’s slightly taller than me, her transcendence apparently makes her shorter, but more agile. She tilts her head curiously upon seeing me looking at her, before giving me a brief nod.

“Kitsune?” I ask.

“In the, extremely mundane, flesh,” she says, her voice comes out through a filter, sounding electronic and impossible to identify. That’s smart, I wish I’d thought to do that before now.

“Shall we?”

“After you.”

I open the old wooden door to this nondescript building and am fairly surprised to see an old-school bar. Multiple people are inside, none of them making efforts to hide their faces, I doubt any of them are spirit-touched, but they’re Kitsune’s people, so I know we’re mostly safe. As soon as we walk in every set of eyes in the room locks on me. Kitsune raises a hand and nods, and the people seem to go back to their conversations. I’m not sure if Kitsune meant to send the message that this was her turf, but either way, message received.

Kitsune leads me to a small leather booth around the back of the bar, it’s about as private as two people can be in a bar I suppose. She kicks her feet up casually and looks me up and down.

“So, what can I do for you Red?” she asks, I roll my eyes at the nickname.

“I need your help,” I answer.

“Yeah, you mentioned. What with?”

“I found this guy, he used to work for Heatstroke. He quit, and he’s trying to hide, but… I found him.”

“If you already found him, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to interrogate him.”

Kitsune scoffs.

“What information do you need from him?”

“Anything I can get on Heatstroke. Every little bit helps.”

“So, you just want me to come with you to find this guy, get what he knows, and then leave? No fighting?”

“Yes! Can you help?”

“Oh, easily.”

“Thank you so mu-”

“But, I won’t.”

“What!?”

“Look, I’m not your teammate. I don’t care about this suicidal revenge mission that y’all keep trying to do. Yeah, Heatstroke is a dick and should die. He’ll get his eventually, but I have more important things to do. We’re not teammates, we’re not partners, and I’m not wasting my time and power to help you get yourself killed by your dad.”

I feel the anger boil up in my chest as I grip the corner of the table hard, glaring at Kitsune and take three deep breaths, closing my eyes for just a second.

“Kitsune, please. I’m asking for a favor.”

“Yeah? And?”

“We’re friends, right? You said we were last night.”

“Friends is more evocative and carried more weight with that guy. Acquaintances or allies would be a more realistic word. I’m fond of you, I even like you, but I don’t keep friends. It’s generally bad business in this line of work.”

“Well, next time you ask me for a favo-”

“I won’t. I take care of my business myself. When I see a mutually beneficial job, I expect you and your team to help.”

I let out a deep breath, gripping the table even tighter, I can’t fucking believe her. She’s been working with us for almost two years, and she still won’t help me with one simple thing? Fuck this girl! I stand up and grab Kistune by the cloak.

“Let’s get this straight, you may have creepy mind control powers, but you don’t have any secrets on me. Let’s see how long you can keep up your misfire bullshit when I center an inferno on-”

I stop, I can feel every eye in the building bearing down on me. I glance behind me and see that every person in this bar is brandishing some sort of weapon. I could take them, even the ones with guns would have trouble hurting a spirit-touched. But it would tire me out, it would use my power up, and it would give her time to get information on me.

Kitsune has barely moved since I grabbed her, she’s eerily calm. She knows exactly the position that I just put myself in, and she didn’t even have to move a muscle. She’s won. The fight never even got to start properly, and she won in a landslide. I drop her, and she effortlessly slides back to her position in the booth. She raises a hand, and her people stand down.

“Some ally you are, you can’t even help me with a small favor.” I mutter as I walk to the exit, trying desperately to control my anger until I leave this place. As soon as I get within one step of the door, I hear Kitsune call out.

“I just did.”

—–

Within a few moments, I’m out the door and transcended. I fly high above the cloudline of Oru, I don’t want to deal with any enforcers or paladins today. Flying was something that was extremely hard to get the hang of at first, but now it’s basically second nature. Not every spirit-touched can fly, but almost all of us have some form of mobility power. Kitsune has zip line shooters, Chimera can’t technically fly, but she lifts herself with her telekinesis.

I arrive at the house I’m looking for within a matter of moments. I start to enter The Cinder State mid-flight and fly right through the roof of the old two-story house in a suburb of Oru. I scan the house, and it doesn’t take me long to find the man, he’s in his kitchen, making some sort of sandwich. I drop out of The Cinder State, and strike him in the chin with a high kick, knocking him to the ground hard. I put my foot on his throat and create a small blade of flame in my hand.

“That looks good, sure you don’t want that toasted?” I say, moving the blade closer to his throat.

“What the fuck!? What do you want?” The man says, desperately scrambling to get out of my reach.

“Just want to ask some questions. If you cooperate, we won’t have any problems. Got it?”

“Questions about what?”

“Your former employer.”

“Go ahead. I want him dead as much as you do.”

Okay. Good, this should be easy.

“I doubt that. Where is he working from?” I ask.

“Don’t know. He moves around every couple months, it’s been almost a year since I left. He should still be in Oru, when I left we were working out of a warehouse by the docks, past the old fish market and the enforcer precinct.”

“How many soldiers on site at one time?”

“At night and in the morning, maybe like twenty-five, if Heatstroke’s in, probably about fifty. They may have grown since I left, I really don’t know.”

“When is he in?”

“About ten in the morning, usually.”

“What was your job? What is he planning?”

“I don’t know. My job was simple, guard an entrance or patrol the perimeter, don’t let anyone in. Unload crates and barrels if someone tells me to. It’s basic grunt work, I never even talked to Heatstroke, and I have no idea what he’s planning.”

“Crates and barrels of what?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t ask!”

Great, useless, he’s nearly useless. I’m no better off than when I started.

“Give me more names then. Someone who would know!”

“I can’t…”

I make the fire in my hair and eyes grow and seem to burn hotter as I lean closer to the man, expelling hot steam and embers from my fists.

“You better have an extremely fucking good reason why not.”

“Anyone above me, anyone with more clearance has to have a chip implanted. It prevents them from talking about their business with people they shouldn’t. I don’t know how it works, I just know that it works and everyone above me had one.”

“Alright, so he has tons of soldiers and watches things extremely tightly. We aren’t sneaking up on him. What’s his escape plan? What does he do if a spirit-touched comes after him?”

“He… He doesn’t plan to escape. Nobody’s dumb enough to challenge him on his own turf if a spirit-touched came, we were told to try to pen them into a room with him so he can finish the job. Trying to attack him in his base is a suicide mission.”

“Yeah. People keep telling me that.”

“I swear, that’s all I know.”

“Is that it? Think really hard. If I find out that you hid anything from me, I’m coming back.”

“I…” The man goes silent for a second as he thinks. My ears seem to twitch, almost like I can hear something out of place, odd, something that shouldn’t be there. Suddenly I feel something strike me from behind, right in the base of my neck. It pierces right through my armor, and I feel something break the skin beneath. I don’t have time to investigate it. I immediately stumble back and grab my head. I feel bile trying to force its way up, I feel pain rush through every nerve and tendon in my body.

“What the fuck?” the man says, looking past me and towards his back door. The man starts to try to stand, but he doesn’t get the chance. A bullet impacts his skull, and he falls to the ground, dead.

I feel like my brain is being torn apart and unraveled. It feels like some part of me, some integral part of my soul, is being ripped from me. My heart starts to flutter a bit, I feel a bizarre feeling, a mix of panic and eerie calmness wash over me. I can finally think and breath again, I feel empty and different, but I’m not in pain.

I look towards the door and see a figure, dressed in black armor and a heavy leather duster. Their hands are covered by leather gloves, while their feet are covered by heavy-duty black boots. Their helmet is slightly domed, with red lenses covering the eyes and a small apparatus of some kind over the mouth. They’re holding a large rifle in both hands, a small pistol is visibly holstered on their right hip.

I try to focus my rage, to channel it into fire. I feel no heat in my fists, I don’t even feel any anger to call on, just fear and anxiety. I look down at my hands and see no fire, only my ungloved pale skin. I’m back in my cloak, mask and street clothes. I try to transcend again and feel nothing inside of me, no anger, no fire, nothing. I can’t even feel the pull of The Cinder on me. My soul, for the first time in my life, has no pull or connection with a spirit. For the first time in my life, I don’t see everything through a lens of anger.

“What the… what the fuck?” I mutter out.

The only response I get is a gunshot that I duck out of the way of. I quickly crawl on my hands and knees, stopping by an old kitchen table. I reach for my neck and pull out a small, white, dart. I fiddle with it in my hands and drop it. It’s almost impossible to see in this mask, and I can feel my glasses being pushed into my face. I need to get out of here as soon as I can.

I pick up one of the dining room chairs and throw it at the gunman. They knock it down easily, but I quickly follow up by coming from under the table and striking the figure in the mask. I recoil and feel a hot rush of pain run down my arm as my hand strikes hard metal. I feel the figure grab me, trying to pull me too close to move. This person is stronger than me, I’m not used to anyone, much less a mundane, overpowering me like this.

The figure strikes me in the head with one of their guns, it hits against one of the straps of my mask, which takes some of the hit for me, but it still hurts badly. I struggle to get free, I’m trained in Běishàolín and have been training since I was young, but I’m not used to using it with my mundane body, or without access to my powers. My father did always warn me I wouldn’t always be able to rely on my powers, I guess he was right about one them.

They have me grabbed tightly around the midsection, I try desperately to reach an arm under their arm. I manage to get my arm around as they bring their gun down on my head again. I use as much of my strength and momentum as I can to drive their helmet down as I drop my knee and it impacts. I flip them over my knee, and they land hard against the wood floor of the kitchen. I keep my hold on their left arm and bend it as far as I can. My knee is throbbing with pain from the impact with the metal of their mask, and I can feel them starting to break free from my grip. I feel my head throb and ache, my hood has fallen down, and I pat my hair, relieved to not feel any blood.

I can’t lock in a solid grip, so I wrench their arm and break the hold. I sprint through the back door and onto the main street of the neighborhood, the sun has nearly set, and a light fog is rolling through the street. I don’t want to run, it’s not something I’m used to doing. I feel out of my element, almost counter to who I should be, but I don’t think I can fight this person, and I don’t have the rage or adrenaline in me to try right now. I consider the risk as I run, but I need to see if I’m going to get out of this alive. I undo the straps of my mask and am immediately relieved by the clarity once I’m not seeing it through paint stained lenses.

I take a few random turns to try and throw off my pursuer, before finally crouching down behind a large row of bushes. I take a few seconds to catch my breath and compose myself. I need to think, I need a plan. I know that attacking him isn’t going to work, I need to escape, but, can I really just hope that this hiding spot works?

Think Rachel, think. What would Dragon do? Dragon… after how I left things yesterday, I didn’t want to tell her what I was doing, but I need her help. I feel around in my back pocket and am relieved that I left my burner phone in it. I quickly pull open the phone and open the group chat.

Me: SOS, Under attack, can’t transcend. I’m behind bushes near 7249 W Sycamore road. One assailant, armed.

I turn the volume on my phone off as I tuck it into my pocket, the next few minutes are excruciating, just laying in the bushes, hoping that one of my friends reaches me before my attacker does. I try to get my breath under control, I still don’t feel any anger. It’s almost like my connection with The Cinder has been completely severed.

A few minutes into hiding, I see the beam of a flashlight hit the street corner. I watch and desperately try to keep my breath steady as the figure rounds the corner, their gun raised. I try to stay as still as possible and take very shallow breaths, just hoping the fog and bushes obscure me. It doesn’t matter, they fire a bullet from their rifle at me, and it grazes the left side of my neck, a few inches from killing me.

I fall down from a mix of shock and pain. I quickly put my mask back on as I struggle to get away. The figure catches up to me in a matter of seconds and tries to shove me back down, I keep my balance and throw my elbow towards their gun as they try to take aim at me. The gun fires and I feel a searing pain rock through my arm as I feel blood trickle down. They shot me just above the elbow.

I use my right arm to grab the pistol from their holster, aiming for their mask as I pull the trigger. I drop the gun as I see a small, white, dart penetrates the forehead of their mask. Its needle cutting through the metal like paper. I exhale in relief as I watch the figure. A faint sound, almost like a laugh, comes from the filter on their mask. It did nothing. Fuck, no. I turn to try and run as they grab me by my cloak and throw me down. My head impacts the concrete hard. My vision starts to go fuzzy as I hear a ringing in my ears. I don’t know if it’s from the blood loss or the impact, but the fight from me is gone. I can’t run, I can’t hope to win. I’m so stupid. I let a stupid, petty fight and some awkward feelings put me in a situation where I didn’t have back up, and now I’m going to pay for it. I don’t know if I’m going to die or spend the rest of my life in The Wall. I don’t know which fate I’d rather have.

The figure leans down, reaching for my mask and gripping the corner of it. They give it a tug and see that it stays, much to their annoyance. They shrug slightly and raise their rifle, readying to shoot me again. I blink and try my best to prepare for what’s about to happen.

The figure is blown back off me with some force, their rifle drops harmlessly at my side. I watch their body as it impacts a small chain link fence outside a house. The figure starts to stand, trying to fight back, but the fence begins to glow a bright blue as the metal begins to warp. First, it locks around the wrists of the figure, locking their hands in place, then the fence starts to wrap around their ankles, then their midsection, and finally, their neck.

I let out a few staggered breaths as I watch Chimera descend from the sky, landing gracefully amid the fog. She stands over me, looking down at me. Her eyes are drooping slightly, and her breathing seems almost frantic, she puts her hand on my neck and feels for a pulse. Her hand comes back slightly bloody, but she seems to calm a little. She turns to the figure trapped in the temporary fence restrain she made and says something, but I can’t make it out as darkness starts to overtake my vision and everything stops.

#Dark Hearts #Magical Girl #Web Serial #original fiction #Phoenix #Dragon #Chimera #Kitsune #Chapter 3 #Sci-fi #Dystopian #Web Original #Superhero #supernatural #magic

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redrobin-detective · 6 years

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Anyone Can Be a Hero

So @captainkirkk has this great AU where OFA the quirk is common knowledge and I was fascinated by the idea of how that would translate into hero society where people knew that there was a possibility of being given an incredible quirk. I'll admit this isn't my best effort but I've given this 1.5 hours of my time and I need to start studying. Credit for the idea goes to captainkirkk who graciously let me play with it. Also Ratatouille which accidently helped form the theme. I can't do anything original here.

Anyone can be a hero, at least that’s what All Might says when he’s on TV.

Izuku had always liked All Might, but his admiration only increased when he learned about the open secret that was the legacy quirk One For All and how All Might is the latest in a long, prosperous line of heroes. The idea of a quirk being given based on merit and not the random luck of genetics. It was truly inspiring.

Izuku soaked up everything he could find about the eight One For All users and thought about what he would do with such a powerful quirk and how it’d compliment his mother’s telekinesis or his father’s fire breathing or whatever quirk he ended up developing.

So he waited and studied and dreamed unless his diagnosis of quirklessness turned his motivation into desperation. Suddenly, his options had whittled down to nothing… save for the miracle quirk controlled by the strongest man in the world. It seems impossible, but still Izuku dreamed.

“Get over yourself, Deku!” Kaachan shouts as he rips Izuku’s notebook out from him under mid-sentence. The pencil leaves a long trail as Izuku is interrupted from his thoughts on how One For All distributes through the user’s body.

“You really think All Might is going to give One For All to you of all people?” Kacchan laughs as if it’s the funniest idea in the world.

“You-you know what A-All Might says,” Izuku squeaks self-consciously. He balls up his fists, willing himself to be a little stronger, heroes don’t cower or cry or ever, ever show weakness. “A-anyone could be a hero. With-with One For All, I could-” he starts as Kacchan slams his fists into Izuku’s notebook, burning it almost beyond recognition.

“You’re so dumb, Deku,” Kacchan sneers as he throws the burnt notebook over his shoulder and out the open window. “All Might just says shit like that so losers like you can feel better about themselves. One For All is going to go to someone like All Might, someone who’s brave and has a strong quirk. There’s no way he’d give it to a Quirkless Deku like you.” He says before aggressively nodding his head at his cronies, signaling for them to follow.

“I’ll give you some advice, All Might’s at the top of his game right now. Maybe if you throw yourself from the roof now, you’ll reincarnate in time to be a decent candidate.”

XxX

Izuku can’t believe how his day has gone so far.

He scratches wearily at his eyes, caked with dried sludge and tears. He was attacked by a villain, saved by All Might and only to accidently discover that the Number One Hero, the eighth wielder of One For All, and the strongest known hero in the world, is dying. Izuku felt sick just thinking about it, All Might, who smiled like nothing could ever touch him, is still keeping up hero work despite a crippling injury. Despite his grief, Izuku can’t help but admire that kind of resolve and wonder if it’s possible for him.

“You want to be a hero?” All Might croaked, wiping some blood away from him mouth. “You know it’s next to impossible without a quirk.” Izuku fell to his knees and prostrated himself before the hero.

“Y-you said that anyone could be a hero, sir and-and if you’re coughing up blood like that then you really shouldn’t be pushing yourself too hard and well, you’re going to need a successor and-”

“Ah, of course,” All Might sighed quietly to himself. “I’m sorry my boy, I feel for you, I do, but I cannot give One For All to you.” Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to break. “It’s a great responsibility, one I do not take lightly. I simply cannot go around handing it out to every person who asks. I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but you must realize that not just anyone can become a hero.” All Might stood and walked towards the door on the abandoned rooftop they’ve found themselves on.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you kept my true form a secret. In return, I have some pull at Yuuei if you might be interested in Support, Management or General Studies.” He leaned down and gently brushed Izuku’s hair where he was still prostrating himself on the ground; too ashamed to look his idol in the eye. “You seem like a good lad, kind, I would like to help if I can but you must understand that what you’re asking for is too much.”

“I understand,” Izuku whispered hoarsely, unable to say any more. He’s not sure how long he stayed like that, only that by the time he sat up, All Might was gone.

Izuku staggers home feeling empty and foolish. Of course All Might wouldn’t just hand out the greatest quirk in the world just because he’d asked. And especially after Izuku admitted that he’s Quirkless, untrained and has no meaningful connections. In other words, he was the worst possible person to wield One For All and without All Might’s quirk, there was no way he could become a hero. Just like that, a decade’s worth of dreams have been burned to a crisp, just like his notebook earlier that day.

Izuku stumbles upon the villain by accident, his feet having unconsciously led him here while his brain sluggishly is coming to terms with his dismal future. He almost moves on when several things happen at once. He realizes that the villain everyone is watching is the same one who’d attacked Izuku barely an hour ago. He then catches sight of Kacchan, caught up in the sludge just like Izuku despite his amazing quirk, scared and quickly losing air. He sees 4 pro heroes standing off to the side, doing nothing to save Kacchan right in front of them.

There’s no hesitation after that; Izuku’s legs move on his own.

In the end, he doesn’t end up doing much. Izuku throws his bag, tries to free Kacchan but needs to be rescued by All Might yet again. The pro heroes yell at him for his recklessness, Kacchan glares at him like he’d have rather died than accept Izuku’s pathetic attempts to help and All Might disappears almost immediately after saving them. Not that Izuku blames him, why should he waste any more of his precious time on a nobody like him?

So once more, he finds himself trudging home, covered in even more sludge and feeling even heavier than before. He’s so lost in his thoughts about what he’s going to do that he’s caught completely off guard when All Might jumps out in front of him.

“There you are!” The hero exclaims like he’d actually been looking for Izuku. He reverts back to his true form in a dramatic poof and takes a minute to violently cough up blood. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, young man!”

“All Might!” Izuku exclaims in surprise before curling in on himself a little. “A-are you going to yell at me too?” Izuku asks quietly. He’s been through too much heartbreak today, he’s not sure he could handle another. All Might’s expression softens as he sets his gnarled hands on his shoulders.

“Quite the opposite, my boy,” All Might says in an almost fond voice. “I wanted to offer an apology and maybe make amends.”

“Being a hero as long as I have, it’s easy to get a little jaded but that does not excuse my words to you earlier because you were right. Anyone can be a hero.” He groans as he squats down so he’s nearly eye level with Izuku. “Now that doesn’t mean that just anyone can be a hero, it means that a hero can be anyone, regardless of quirk or circumstance.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Izuku says quietly.

“What I’m trying to say is, despite being Quirkless, despite having your dreams cruelly dash by a grumpy old man,” All Might grins sheepishly, “you still ran forward to help that boy without a second thought. I watched you; you didn’t even have to think about rushing in. Strong quirks are well and good but a true hero is someone who’s strong where it counts most.” He says, pointing a bony finger to Izuku’s heart.

He stands up again and the way the shadows of the setting sun fall on his face, he seems as strong as he is with One For All. The atmosphere feels heavy and powerful, as if sensing the importance of the next few moments.

“Young man, will you accept my power and be the ninth wielder of One For All.” All Might asks seriously, all traces of his earlier humor gone. This is real, this is actually happening.

Izuku falls to his knees, this can’t be happening, not to him of all people. He didn’t deserve this; there are million, maybe two, other people more deserving of this honor. But that didn’t mean he isn’t going to grab it with both hands and be the best hero he could be with it.

“Yes,” he chokes out, he thought he’d run out of tears earlier but it seems he had more to spare. “I will.” All Might grins and offers him a hand after Izuku calms himself down. He accepts it and lets the hero pull him to his feet.

“Alright, well this is only the beginning, my boy. As you can imagine, there’s a great deal of paperwork involved. Do you live nearby? I’m going to need to talk to your mother and father about this, obviously. You’ll need some extra training before I can properly pass on One For All, it packs quite a punch and physically you won’t be able to handle it right now. I don’t know what your plans were, but all One For All users have attended high school at Yuuei. With my seal, you’ll already be enrolled without taking the entrance exam, though you still can if you desire.” He pauses, “Look at me, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know your name.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku whispers. All Might puts an arm around his shoulder to steady him before he face plants right into the ground. “I can’t believe this is happening, everyone said it was impossible because I was Quirkless.”

“That’s what I said too when my master, the seventh holder, chose me,” All Might grins. “But that’s the beauty of One For All, young Midoriya, we get to choose our successors on more important matters. Now come on my boy, there’s a lot to be done before you start high school next spring.”

#boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fics #captainkirkk #my writing #this was fun #even if it sounded way more impressive in my head #I basically rehashed the first chapter but w/e #might like to work on this AU more in the future #I'm super fascinated by how the world would react to Izuku publically #I feel like after Nana was murdered Toshi was kept secret under he had better control of OFA #but now Izuku is thrust into the spotlight without a lick of control #there will be a lot of doubters and discrimination due to him being quirkless #(am I a little obsessed with the social ramifications of quirklessness in bnha? yes)

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eternal-love-song · 6 years

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Blood Of Our Father

Thor, Loki, and Hela get together to talk after Odin's death. [Human AU, Thor/Jane, Loki/Tony]

The room was silent and the atmosphere was tense. Thor spent most of the morning quiet and brooding, sitting solemnly around the house. Jane had watched it happen, but she hadn't been able to help in the slightest. Anything she said was either ignored or gently brushed off. It was exceedingly rare that she saw this side of Thor. He was usually loud and brash, or enthusiastic and excited. Seeing him quiet and pensive was a bit unsettling.

It was near noon when Loki arrived. He was dressed as impeccable as always in a sharp black suit and green tie. It was more subdued than Thor's casual wear, but every time that Jane had seen Loki he'd been more subdued or more elegant. It was simply a staple of his character as she understood it. Trailing behind him was Tony Stark, in a suit of matching quality and tone, save for the bright red tie that accentuated him. He smiled at Jane, but didn't speak. That was unusual of him. She never knew Tony Stark to be silent for more than a handful of seconds at a time, but now he was silently following Loki into the room. She had to assume it was a request of Loki's that held him back, but even that was incredibly impressive.

Loki's gaze slid over her as if she didn't exist before landing on Thor. Thor's gaze was guilt ridden as he looked as his brother and Loki's was practical venomous. "Thor," Loki greeted in a level tone.

"Brother," Thor greeted in a voice that was both reserved and resigned.

"Hey there, big guy," Tony greeted quietly.

Thor smiled at him, small and strained, but it was the first smile she'd seen from him all day. "Hello, Tony."

"Jane." Tony nodded at her.

"Hey." She said.

Loki swept past them into the room, removing his black gloves and scarf, moving to place them on the table near the coat rack. This was a display that was all too familiar from Loki, displaying his familiarity while simultaneously looking down upon them. Jane refrained from saying so to Thor, rare as it was that she and Loki had to share space, but she was not fond of her brother in law. Oh, he could be charming when he wanted to be, as well as gracious and humble and engaging. The problem was that he rarely choose to be those things. At least, not when Thor was in the room.

"I suppose she will be the last to arrive," Loki said. "Again."

"She will not be late for some time," Thor said calmly.

"No, but I am certain if she can find a way to break tradition--"

"Then she will." Jane's head snapped to the doorway and the woman that was letting her self in the house. She was in a dark green dress, shawl around her shoulders, and a wide brimmed hat tilted on her head, hiding one of her eyes. "Isn't that what you were going to say, little brother?" Hela stepped into the room, heels making an impressive clack as she stepped onto the wood flooring. A dark furred dog ran in around her steps, closer to a wold than a dog, but Jane had never questioned it. The woman waited until the dog choose to properly enter the house before closing the door behind her.

Jane looked to Thor in question, wondering how and why Hela was able to enter their home at her whim. Before Thor could respond to or even register her look, Hela laughed. Jane couldn't help but turn back to look at her at the harsh sound.

"Did my dear brother never tell you?" She asked. "He gave me a key as soon as he moved in, the fool."

Jane decided that now was not the time to react to this information any more than she had, but she would have words with Thor about this.

Loki scoffed as he finished removing his and Stark's coat and hanging them up. "Fine. You make a habit of tardiness so that you may break it. Congratulations, you made me look the fool. Is that what you wanted?" Loki asked as he spun around to face her with angry eyes.

"I have never wanted a single thing from you, little brother," Hela responded with a wicked smile. "Isn't that what most vexed you?"

Loki's scowl deepened.

"So," Tony interrupted, stepping between the two siblings. "I brought wine."

Thor had asked Jane not to intervene tonight. Really, he'd asked her not to be present, but she would be a fool to leave her home unguarded while both of Thor's siblings were within. She'd seen them interact before, heard the stories, and met both Loki and Hela on separate occasions. There was no way she was going to accept that request. She could do her best not to interfere however.

"Is your pet trying to pacify me?" Hela questioned imperiously.

"A LOT of wine," Tony repeated.

"I think we would all enjoy a drink," Thor said.

It was... odd not to see Thor trying to calm his siblings. He was the one that always tried hardest to reach out to his estranged family, to calm their ire despite his own less than stellar temper, to win their love and favor any way that he knew how. To see him not even trying was startling.

"I will fetch the glasses," Loki declared. "Jane, will you assist me?"

Jane was surprised to be called upon, especially after Loki had entirely dismissed her presence earlier. She tried to restrain her confusion as Loki gazed at her with a questioning look. "Sure," She answered. Tension was high enough, there was no need for her to make things work when the request was so innocuous. Plus, if she did need to have stern words with Loki, it would be better to do so without an audience.

He waited for her to lead the way into the kitchen, to the dinning room, before walking past her to the china cabinet. "I realize that this must be quite the imposition to you," Loki said without preamble. He was taking wine glasses off the shelf and placing them on the table. "It cannot be pleasant to have us all under one roof and apologize that for the rest of this night I shall remain less than pleasant. It is not my intention to be rude to you, but I have no energy to spare on niceties this day."

"Is this a pre-apology?" Jane asked.

"Take it as you will," Loki answered. Which, of course he did. Why would she expect a straight answer out of him?"

Loki lifted three glasses and left the other for her to take. "That is all," He said. He walked swiftly out of the room and Jane was suddenly very glad that Tony brought wine.

They were mostly seated when she'd returned. Thor at one end of the table, staring firmly into his clasped hands, as Hela sat across from staring holes into his skull. Tony was to one side, and once Loki set down the wine glasses, he joined him. Tony was trying to make pleasant chatter as he poured the wine, but it sounded forced and didn't penetrate the gloomy atmosphere. Jane added her glasses to the group and sat to the side of Thor.

"Would you silence that incessant chatter?" Hela demanded. "Did you finally get tired of hearing yourself talk, Loki, and had to get someone else to do it for you?"

Thor reached for his glass immediately. "Must you, Hela?"

"Do not be angry with me because nothing more intelligent than a canine can find anything likable about your twisted personality!" Loki responded.

Tony was sighing as he distributed glasses. Except for Hela's, which was left in the middle of the table and she scowled as she had to reach for it.

"You are one to speak of being twisted," Hela responded. "How many perversions have you indulged over the years, little brother?"

Loki's face became red, though whether it was with shame or anger, Jane could not tell. It was going to get very awkward for her very quickly and she was glad that she would at least have the wine to help get her through the night. She was certain that little else would.

"We will not go down this path!" Thor said darkly.

"Oh? Does the illustrious heir deign to tell me what to do?" Hela asked.

"That is not what I meant," Thor said.

"What did you mean?"

"He meant that you should keep those whore lips of yours sealed!" Loki said.

"Yes, I am the whore here," Hela said. She leaned forward, eyes on Tony. "Tell me, Stark, what does my little brother do to keep a place with you? Does he have a cozy 9-5 shift on his knees for you?"

Loki stood up abruptly, but Stark already had a restraining arm around him.

"Have a care how you speak to my brother!" Thor demanded.

"Your brother?" She repeated. "You do not have a monopoly on him. Or perhaps you want to be the only one to show him his true place?"

"Do not speak on that which you do not know," Thor warned.

"Oh, please! I know all about you, Thor." She said the name as if it left a sour taste on her tongue. "I know all about how you've treated our dear little brother. You treated him just like our father did, like a useless afterthought."

Loki's eyes were suspiciously bright as Tony pulled him back into chair.

"If anyone is like father, it is you!" Thor said. "You speak of us being family when it is convenient to you, when you have need of us or can make use of our connection, and the rest of the time you belittle and ignore us. There is no greater hypocrite than you, sister."

"You are not so much better," Loki says quietly.

"No, I am not," Thor admitted. "But at least I try to be."

"You are not better than me," Hela said.

"I do not pretend to be," He replied.

"This is stupid," Loki proclaimed. "The old man dies and we suddenly feel the need to come together, and for what? So that we may rip out each other's throats in his honor?"

"You could try talking to each other like actual adults," Jane suggested before she could stop herself. She winced inwardly, because that was not the time to have spoken out, but she didn't take it back.

"At least Loki trained his pet to be silent when needed," said Hela.

"You dare!" Thor yelled, getting to his feet. Jane put a hand on his arm as she glared at Hela.

"I do not need you to defend my honor," She said. "I can do that myself." She waited only a moment to have Hela's full attention on her before speaking. "I understand that this situation is hard, but you all need to grow up! You can't keep blaming Odin for every gash you tear into each other's flesh. The man is dead and buried, these scars have festered long enough. He isn't here to stand between you and you should be better than to let his shadow do the same. I get it. Odin sucks. You don't have to."

Thor was staring at her with wide eyes as he fell back into his seat. Loki was looking away. Hela looked entirely taken back, similar to the first time she'd had words with Loki. As different as they all could be, they were also remarkably similar.

"Wow, Jane. Wasn't expected that side of you to come out today," Tony spoke up.

"Well, someone needed to say it."

"This waif dares to speak to me this way," Hela said. It wasn't angry and the lilt toward the end nearly made it a question, bit it sounded... incredulous, if Jane had to guess. Almost amused, which was also close to the first time she had words with Loki. He'd looked stunned, then he'd laughed outright. It was perhaps over the line when she'd responded by smacking him, but so was his smile afterwards, in her opinion.

"She has never been good at keeping her opinions to herself," Loki said in an agreeing tone. "Then again, neither is mine, most of the time." He smiled at Tony, who grinned right back.

"I take that as a compliment," Tony said. "I always knew you liked the sound of my voice."

"That is hardly what I said," Loki replied.

"It's still what I heard." Tony smiled cheekily.

"It is perhaps time that we stop living in the shadow of our father's lies," Thor said. "We will never be entirely agreeable to one another, but we do not have to be angry at each other for what he did."

Loki looked away. Hela stared straight at Thor.

"Sister, I am not angry that you did not choose us once we chose you," Thor continued. "I... understand why you decided what you did even if I will never be happy about it. I am... angry at you for being everything Odin was not." At this, Hela's eyes went large and Loki turned to look at them again. "You held me accountable for things when he never did. You listed to Loki in a way that I never really could. You were a harsh and fleeting presence, like the crack of a whip, but you were also the balm afterwards. I... I resented that you never wanted anything to do with us, with me, even though you were everything that Odin never was for us."

"I am not--" Hela began, only for Thor to cut her off.

"I know that," He assured her. "I have always known that. It didn't stop me from... wanting it. You are like the missing pieces between myself and Loki, but at every turn you rejected us utterly. I couldn't understand why you would bother to walk into our lives only to walk back out. Over and over. To me, to Loki. I was sure that you knew of our feelings and just didn't care about them."

"I... wasn't aware," Hela admitted quietly. "I thought..." She sighed. "I don't know what I thought. I thought of myself and little else."

"I hate the both of you," Loki said. "I hated Thor for being everything that I thought I wanted to be, and I hate you for being everything that I thought I was. I hate that you both stripped me of my identity and neither of you cared. I hate that I loved you both and you both threw me away. Thor at least came back after me. You just... taunted me for having ever thought I could be good enough."

Hela stared deep into her wine glass as she absorbed this. "I was angry when Odin threw me, even more angry when I found out that he had replaced me and then covered up my existence like I was his dirty little secret." Her hand tightened on the glass. "I thought I could hurt him if I made you love me more than you did him, but I was also so... insulted... at the entire thing that I..." She trailed off, let out a sharp breath, and then took a sip of her wine to calm herself. "It wasn't right that I took my anger out on you. It... isn't right. It is a failing of mine that I have yet to curb."

Hesitantly, Loki reached out his hand to place on her arm. He avoided listening to her as he spoke. "I believe we inherited father's temper in one way or another."

Hela chuckled lowly. Thor bowed his head sheepishly.

"At first, I thought the same thing that you did," Loki admitted softly, looking at Hela. "I wanted to talk to you just to spite him. I wanted him to know that I didn't need him. I didn't expect that you would be so... I didn't think that I would like you. I thought that you felt the same way before you... told me that you did not."

It was Hela's turn to avoid his gaze as she responded. "You were both Odin's precious brats. You had everything that he denied me. I couldn't... love you without... I didn't want to admit that he'd done something right. That he had created and coveted something that was actually worthwhile. I didn't want to admit that you could be better than me. I didn't want to believe that there was a problem with me and that that was the reason that he tossed me aside." Tears came to Hela's eyes and she withdraw from Loki, wrapping her arms around herself as she lowered her head. Tear drop splashed on the table as she continued, her voice wavering. "And look at both. I'm miserable, bitter, and alone. Thor's gotten married and Loki's probably richer than I am. I'm sitting on Odin's dead empire and all I can think of is that he must have been right to throw me away. There must have been something twisted and terrible about me. I was wicked in the womb and as as soon as he knew it,"

"No!" Thor said loudly, forcing her to look up. He got up from his seat and went to her side, pulling her into a tight embrace as tears flowed from his eyes as well. "Nothing was wrong with you and we are not better. Father tried to cast me out, threatened me with disinheritance when I would not do what he wished. He was an angry old man with angry ways. It took me the better part of my life to finally get that lesson through my thick head, but I won't let you think the same. There was never anything wrong with you, sister."

Hela trembled in his arms as she cried and Thor kept his hold on her tight.

Loki put a hand on Tony arm and they exchanged a look before he stood and walked over to Jane.

"Hey, what do you say we take this party to the kitchen?" Tony asked her. "We can open up our own bottle and tell each other embarrassing stories about our spouses while we give them some alone time."

Jane looked at the three of them one last time. Loki had moved to stand beside his siblings, one hand on Thor's shoulder and the other on Hela's back.

"Yeah, let's go," She agreed. Her house wasn't under threat anymore, Thor could maybe finally patch things up with his family; she could leave him alone for that.

#ELS Writing #Loki #Thor #Hela #Odin #Fanfiction #odin's a+ parenting #Marvel

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informationpalace · 4 years

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Little Richard: Rock and Roll Legend Died at the Age of 87

Little Richard, best known as Little Richard, who mixed the black church's sacred yells with the profane blues sounds to make some of the world's first and most influential rock 'n' roll songs, died in Tullahoma, Tenn, Saturday morning. He was 87. His lawyer, Bill Sobel, has said bone cancer was the cause. Little Richard never invented rock 'n' roll. By the time he released his first single, "Tutti Frutti" — a raucous song about sex, his lyrics cleaned up but its sense was hard to miss — other musicians had already found a similar vein in a New Orleans recording studio in September 1955. Chuck Berry and Fats Domino had reached the top 10 of the rock, Bo Diddley had topped the rhythm and blues charts, and for a year Elvis Presley had made hits. But Little Richard, delving deeply into the wellsprings of gospel music and the blues, pounding the piano vigorously and shouting as if for his own life, lifted the energy level to many notches and produced something not quite like any music that had been heard before — something fresh, exciting and more than a little dangerous. As Richie Unterberger the rock historian put it, “He was crucial in upping the voltage from high-powered R&B into the similar, yet different, guise of rock ’n’ roll.”

The label for which he released his greatest hits, Art Rupe of Specialty Music, named Little Richard "dynamic, completely uninhibited, unpredictable, wild." "Tutti Frutti" rocked up the charts and was soon followed by "Long Tall Sally" and other music now known as classics. His live performances were so amazing. "He would just burst out from anywhere onto the stage and you could not hear anything but the audience's roar," record producer and arranger H.B. Barnum, who played a saxophone early on in his career with Richard Penniman, recalled Charles White's authorized biography in "The Life and Times of Little Richard" (1984). "He would be on stage, he would be off stage, he would be jumping and yelling, screaming, whipping the audience on." An Immense Impact Rock 'n' roll was in its early days an unabashed macho music, but Little Richard, who had performed in drag as a teenager, posed a very different image on stage: gaudily dressed, his hair piled up six inches high, his face aglow with cinematic makeup. In later years he was fond of suggesting that if Elvis were the king of rock 'n' roll, he was the queen. He described himself as homosexual, bisexual and "omnisexual" in different ways offstage. His success as an artist was incalculable. It could be seen and heard in James Brown's flamboyant showmanship, who idolized him (and used some of his musicians when Little Richard began a long hiatus from performing in 1957), and in Prince, whose ambisexual image owed him a great debt. Presley has captured songs from him. A octave-leaping exultation, the Beatles adopted his signature sound: "Woooo! "(Paul McCartney said the first song he ever performed in public was" Long Tall Sally, "which he later recorded with the Beatles.) In his yearbook for high school, Bob Dylan wrote that his dream was to" join Little Richard. The impact of Little Richard was very social as well.

Mr. White quoted him as saying, “I’ve always thought that rock ’n’ roll brought the races together.” “Especially being from the South, where you see the barriers, having all these people who we thought hated us showing all this love.” Mr. Barnum told Mr. White that when Little Richard sang, "they still had the audience segregated" at concerts in the South in those days, but that, “most times, before the end of the night, they would all be mixed together.” If uniting black and white audiences was Little Richard's point of pride, it was a source of concern for many, particularly in the South. The North Alabama White Citizens Council released a rock 'n' roll denunciation primarily because it put "people of both races together." And with several radio stations under pressure to keep black music off the air, Pat Boone's clean-up, toned-down version of "Tutti Frutti" was a bigger success than the original Little Richard. (He even had a "Long Tall Sally" hit) Still, it seemed like nothing could hinder Little Richard's rise to the top, until he himself stopped it. He was at the height of his fame when, in late September 1957, he left the United States to begin a tour of Australia. He was tired as he told the story, under constant pressure from the Internal Revenue Service and angry at the low rate of royalties he earned from Specialty. He had signed a deal, without anybody to inform him, which gave him half a cent for every record he sold. "Tutti Frutti" sold half a million copies but only netted $25,000 for him. One night in early October, he had an epiphany in front of 40,000 fans at an outdoor Sydney arena. "Russia sent that very first Sputnik off that night," he told Mr White, referring to the first satellite that had been sent into orbit. "It looked like the huge ball of fire was going straight over the stadium about two or three hundred feet above our heads. It made my mind shake. It just made my head shake. I got up from the piano, saying, "This is it. I am through. He had one last Top 10 hit: "Good Golly Miss Molly," recorded in 1956 but not released until the beginning of 1958. At the time he had left behind a rock 'n' roll.

He was an evangelist on the run. He went into Oakwood College (now Oakwood University) to prepare for the ministry in Huntsville, Ala., a Seventh-day Adventist church. He cut his hair, married and began gospel music recording. He will be torn between pulpit gravity and stage pull for the remainder of his life. “Although I sing rock ’n’ roll, God still loves me,” he said in 2009. “I’m a rock ’n’ roll singer, but I’m still a Christian.” In 1962, he was drawn back to the stage and he performed for wild acclaim in England, Germany and France over the next two years. The Beatles and the Rolling Stones were among his opening acts, and then at the beginning of their careers. He went on to tour the United States relentlessly, with a band that included Jimi Hendrix on guitar at one time. By the late 1960s, sold-out performances in Las Vegas and triumphant appearances at Atlantic City and Toronto rock festivals were sending out a clear message: Little Richard was back to stay. ‘I Lost My Reasoning’ Alcohol and cocaine began to drain his soul by his own account ("I lost my reasoning," he would later say), and in 1977 he turned from rock 'n' roll to God once again. He became a Bible salesman, started making worship songs again and vanished from the spotlight for the second time. He is not staying away forever. His biography was released in 1984 and marked his return to the public eye, and he started performing again. By now he was as much a musician as he was a personality. He played a prominent role as a record producer in the hit movie "Down and Out in Beverly Hills" by Paul Mazursky in 1986. He appeared on television on talk shows, variety, comedy, and awards shows. He worked at celebrity weddings, and performed at funerals for celebrities. In concert he could still uplift the roof. He stole the spotlight at a rock 'n' roll revival concert in London's Wembley Arena, in December 1992. "Today, I am 60," he told the crowd, "and I still look remarkable." He proceeded to look incredible — with the aid of wigs and heavy pancake makeup as he flew intermittently into the 21st century. But in the end, age took its tool. He walked onstage with the assistance of two canes by 2007. In 2012, he suddenly ended a show at Washington's Howard Theater, telling the audience, "I cannot breathe hard." A year later, he told Rolling Stone magazine that he was retiring. "In a sense I am done," he said. "There is nothing I feel like doing right now." Survivors include a friend, Danny Jones Penniman. Full survivor information was not immediately available.

Raised in Macon, Ga., on 5 Dec. 1932, Richard Wayne Penniman was the third of 12 children born to Charles and Leva Mae (Stewart) Penniman. His father was a brick mason on the road, selling moonshine. An uncle, a brother, and a grandfather were preachers, and as a child he attended churches of the Seventh-day Adventist, Baptist, and Holiness, and aspired to be an evangelist artist. An early influence was Sister Rosetta Tharpe, a gospel singer and guitarist, one of the first artists to blend a religious message with the intensity of R&B. Richard's ambition had taken a detour by the time he was at his teens. He left home and started performing in traveling medicine and minstrel shows, part of a dying-out 19th-century tradition. Billed as Little Richard by 1948—the name was a nod to his youth and not to his physical stature — he was a cross-dressing actor with a minstrel troupe named Sugarfoot Sam From Alabam that had been performing for decades. He recorded his first songs in 1951, while performing alongside strippers, comics and drag queens on Atlanta's Decatur Street strip. The songs, without distinct style, were generic R&B, and attracted almost no attention. He encountered two performers during this time whose look and sound alone would have a profound impact: Billy Wright and S.Q. Reeder, who has performed as Esquerita and recorded it. Both of them were professional pianists, glamorous dressers, flamboyant entertainers and as openly gay as it was possible in the 1950s to be in the South. Richard Penniman acknowledged his debt to Esquerita, who he said gave him some tips for playing the piano, and to Mr. Wright, whom he once called "the most fantastic entertainer I have ever seen." However much he borrowed from either man, the music or persona that emerged were his own. His break came when Mr. Rupe signed him to Specialty in 1955, and arranged for him to record with local New Orleans musicians. He began singing a raucous yet obscene song during a break at that session which Mr. Rupe thought could attract the burgeoning teenage record-buying audience. Mr. Rupe hired Dorothy LaBostrie, a New Orleans songwriter, to clean up the lyrics; the song became "Tutti Frutti"; and a rock 'n' roll star was born. By the time he finished playing, Little Richard was a recipient of lifetime achievement awards from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences and the Rhythm and Blues Foundation in both the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (he was inducted in the Hall's first year) and the Songwriters Hall of Fame. In 2010, "Tutti Frutti" was added to the National Register of Congress Library. If Little Richard ever thought he had deserved all the honors he got, he would never admit it. "Many people call me the rock 'n' roll architect," he said one time. "I do not call that to myself, but I think it is true." Do not forget leaving your valuable comment on this piece of writing and sharing with your near and dear ones. To keep yourself up-to-date with Information Palace, put your email in the space given below and Subscribe. Furthermore, if you yearn to know about effect of virus on Frank Soo, view our construct, ‘Frank Soo: Google is celebrating England's forgotten footballer.’ Read the full article

#BoDiddley #CongressLibrary #ElvisPresley #GoodGollyMissMolly #JamesBrown #LittleRichard #littlerichardsongs #LongTallSally #LongTallSallysong #Mr.White #Omnisexual #Presley #RichardPenniman #RosettaTharpe #Tullahoma #TuttiFrutti #TuttiFruttisong

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maheklxul · 4 years

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Final Project

The year is 2022. It has been two years since the coronavirus pandemic hit America. Half the global population has been wiped out, mainly depleting Africa first, then Asia and Europe. There is no semblance of a normal life left. Schools are closed indefinitely, with remote learning losing traction as well. People have no hope for the future. Suicide rates are higher than ever. Any semblance of a cure that scientists develop fails to be a global solution. The virus is mutating and changing drastically at an unprecedented rate; scientists cannot keep up. Some companies have given up trying to find a cure calling it an impossible task. Other scientists have devoted their time to figuring out what is causing the virus to behave like this. There seems to be no valid explanation.

Zyler lives in a small apartment tucked into a corner of New York City. He graduated high school during the pandemic, and college is not in his prospect. He works at a gas station down the road from his home. He lives with his cat, Menchie who is the only semblance of family he has left. He walks home and begins his nightly routine of feeding himself and his cat. “Menchie!” he calls. She doesn’t appear which is unusual; feeding time is Menchie’s favorite time of day. He searches around his tiny apartment with no luck. He noticed the window was open to the fire escape and hears screeching coming from the roof. There is a small flying vehicle parked on the roof. A dark figure stands in front of it holding Menchie. He feels a hand on his back, and then loses consciousness.

Zyler awakes in a room that looks like a laboratory made entirely stainless steel. “Have I been kidnapped?” he thinks to himself. Something about the scene does not make sense. He has been abducted but kept alive. He can walk freely around the room but cannot get out. He begins to examine the machinery he is surrounded with. ‘RPISRC’ is written on pretty much everything.

“Ah, the final subject has awoken,” says an eerie voice standing at the door. Startled, Zyler whips around and then freezes. Whatever he is staring at is definitely not a human being. The creature looks like something straight out of a science fiction show. In a desperate attempt to escape, Zyler ran towards the door, but the alien swiftly stopped him. “Call me Maldovar. You have questions, I know. Normally we don’t give into human curiosity. In fact, you’re one of the few humans that has even gotten the chance to see us in the flesh. You are our final subject and we decided to give you all the answers before ridding of your race for good,” Maldovar says while smiling at Zyler. The alien looks proud, Zyler is numb. He doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if this is really the end. “What do these aliens want? What does it mean by ‘subject’? Where are we?” These thoughts and more flew through Zyler’s mind at a million miles an hour.

“Stop thinking so much Zyler, I can hear all your thoughts. It’s incredibly distracting. Our species is called Maldovarians. We discovered your planet long before humans came into existence. We have watched your planet grow and be destroyed over millions of years. Up until now, your moon was our home. You idiots ignored the conspirators that told you the moon was hollow, but that only played to our advantage. We have been able to peacefully conduct our research on the universe and develop our plan to take over the Milky Way,” Maldovar begins his explanation.

“What are you researching?” Zyler questions.

“Immortality. The nitrogen in your atmosphere is essential for us. We have depleted our sources of nitrogen in this area, including your very own Pluto. Eventually, it came time for us to find a bigger and better home. We always knew this home would be Earth. When humans started evolving, we weren’t yet ready to move. We considered stopping your evolution immediately, but decided watching Earth grow would be our source of entertainment,” Zyler cuts off Maldovar.

“Entertainment?! Humans are the most intelligent species, not a source of entertainment!” Zyler exclaimed.

“Hah! Intelligent?! Look around, we have had this technology for millions of years, you can’t even begin to imagine what else there is in the universe. We knew that no matter how quickly humans evolved, they would never catch up to the level of intellectual and technological advancement that we have. We will become immortal and the universe is infinite. It is a perfect match. You don’t belong here. We created the coronavirus 25 years ago as we began preparing to rid of the human population. We did our first trial run in 2002, but it was a major failure. You may remember it as SARS coronavirus. Luckily, we knew we had until 2020 to perfect the virus. We plucked you out one by one to test our virus. Do you know how we choose? Do you know why you were chosen?”

Zyler is stunned. “Because I’m alone,” he responds.

The alien continues, “Precisely. We take the orphans, the elderly, the homeless, the starved people in third world countries. People who will not be missed. In a way, we reduced the suffering of these lonely humans. After thinking that we perfected the deadliest virus, we released it in Wuhan, China fully knowing about the xenophobia this would cause. We needed to give the humans something or someone to blame. China was an easy victim. Humans are always ready to turn on each other. That’s your biggest flaw. You could never be as successful as some other alien species because you cannot even work together to run one planet. Anyways,the success of the virus is unquestionable, but the death rates began to slow. We needed something that was completely foreign to your bodies, but we could not give any evidence of extraterrestrial interference. We could not risk the integrity of our plan. I wish we had realized sooner that the best way to destroy you was in your own solar system. We extracted samples from Mars until we found significant amounts of microbial creatures. You’ve seen the machines around you. We use these to infuse the virus with microbial DNA that is completely foreign to your species. The new virus is made to target all the important microorganisms in human bodies and shut down their most important DNA sequences. Once we release this, it’s only a matter of days before the rest of the population is wiped out.”

“So what do you need from me? Am I the last test before you release the virus on Earth?”

“It’s more complicated than that. You need to be the one to begin the spread. If you don’t do this, you will be used for future non-fatal testing at our lab on Earth. You cat will be used to spread the virus instead. We have nothing against the domestic pets of your kind, we do not plan on killing them or the animals of your planet. In fact, we are quite fond of cats and would care for them just as you do. We do need to keep a select group of humans around to help us through unexpected earthly problems. You could be one of them if you choose not to spread the virus, but then you will have to watch the rest of your species go extinct,” explains Maldovar.

Zyler has to choose between singlehandedly being the direct cause of the end of humanity or being a lab rat for the rest of his life. Staying alive is what human instinct always calls for, but that instinct is gone. Zyler does not want to live in a world that he watched get destroyed. Life is not worth it if he’s going to be in alien captive for the rest of his life. There is no way out of this. Humanity needs to end. The virus wins. Maldovarians win.

Austin, J. (2017, February 23). 'Hollow Moon that rings like a bell put into orbit by ancient ALIENS', shock theory claims. Retrieved May 7, 2020, from https://www.express.co.uk/news/weird/771246/Hollow-Moon-theory-aliens

- The hollow moon theory is something I heard about a few weeks ago. It basically says that the moon is hollow and different conspiracists have different theories about what is inside. Some say it is a satellite and some believe there is actual life inside of it. The ‘evidence’ people cite includes the moon ringing like a bell when it is struck (the hollowness of a bell is what makes the sound reverberate). There is actually scientific evidence of this happening. Seismic equipment shows that the moon has had tremors lasting between 55 minutes and over 3 hours after being struck. Of course, the data collected by NASA is not suggesting that the moon is hollow, but it feeds the fire of conspiracy theorists.

- I wanted to use this popular theory as a setting for the aliens because it is something that at least some Earthlings will get behind as they read the story. I don’t believe there is any truth to this but I am never opposed to entertaining bizarre ideas.

Boston, P. J., Ivanov, M. V., & McKay, C. P. (1922, February). On the possibility of chemosynthetic ecosystems in subsurface habitats on Mars. Retrieved May 7, 2020, from https://www-sciencedirect-com.proxy.library.nyu.edu/science/article/pii/0019103592900459

- This publication by Boston, Ivanov, and McKay explores the possibility of microbial life on Mars. Although it is now well known that water has been found on Mars, the search for organisms is still ongoing. I recently learned that NASA is launching a mission to Mars in July despite being amidst of the coronavirus pandemic. I am citing this article because it gives insight as to what kind of life could be found on Mars.

- Photosynthetic life has essentially been ruled out due to the conditions on Mars, so life that relies on inorganic materials such as carbon dioxide is the remaining most practical possibility. From basic biology, we know that human exposure to any foreign substance causes a reaction. With coronavirus, we see just how damaging foreign bodies can be. If a terrestrial virus can cause such a global upheaval, then I cannot help but wonder what would happen if microorganisms collected from Mars during NASA’s next mission were to accidentally be released from their labs.

- I used this source to legitimize the idea of the aliens in my story being able to extract the organisms from Mars and expose humans to them.

MacCabe, Colin Yanacek Holly. Keywords For Today: a 21st Century Vocabulary. OXFORD UNIV Press, 2018.

- This source is a compilation of terms that are evolving in modern times. I used this source to draw inspiration for how to include diversity in my story. Specifically, I looked at terms like diversity, European, family, and humanity. I consider people who lack any sort of family to be some of the least privileged people. Not all family is by blood, some even consider friends to be family. But still, there are people in this world who are completely alone and maybe for some that is okay, but for most this is a painful thing. I used my story to exploit the fact these people can be easily taken advantage of in the world. It is an unfortunate reality. I also exploited the fact that most people do not care what is happening in third-world countries. In my story, only their families will know that their children or parents have gone missing, but no one is going to make a fuss about it. Even in America there are so many missing person cases that go unsolved and definitely do not break news headlines. The aliens in my story took advantage of the ignorant nature of humans on Earth.

Seeger, C., & Sohn, J. A. (2014, January). Targeting Hepatitis B Virus With CRISPR/Cas9. Retrieved May 7, 2020, from https://www-sciencedirect-com.proxy.library.nyu.edu/science/article/pii/S2162253116303559

- This publication by Seeger and Sohn talks about the technology CRISPR (clustered regularly interspaced short palindromic repeats) and how it has been used with viruses. This specific experiment was done with the hepatitis B virus. My motivation for reading this source was to make sure CRISPR could successfully target the desired gene sequence in a virus. The fictional aliens in my writing are meant to be portrayed as advanced creatures who know everything about the coronavirus since they are the ones that created it. Assuming this information, I wanted to be sure that there exists technology for them to edit the virus as they wish.

- Traditionally, CRISPR technology is used to kill the virus, but RPISRC, the alien technology, does the exact opposite. From my knowledge of CRISPR technology and this article, I believe CRISPR makes it possible for bacteria to find specific harmful gene sequences in viruses and then sends an enzyme (Cas9) to shut down that part of the DNA from being expressed. Through the fictional alien technology, the viruses target the essential bacteria inside human bodies causing them to shut down. The goal of the aliens is to quickly remove the human population and this method is faster than releasing a traditional virus that we have seen disproportionally affect immuno-compromised people.

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sageriots · 6 years

Text

headcanons.

source: deatheatvrs.

trigger warnings: non-descriptive mentions of death (parents).

1. go to karaoke song?

love shack - b-52s.

2. a song that describes them?

reckless - gareth emery ft. wayward daughter.

3. are they good at sports?

not especially considering sports in general. with that said though there are of course sports that she is better at and sports that she’s not so good at at all. she is surprisingly good at pool, but that’s really where it ends with sports that she excels at.

4. do they have a favorite movie?

the breakfast club. it’s a film that sage has found in many ways she’s related to for a longer time than people might think. it deals with that inner turmoil she’s been fighting through out her life about fitting into a role assigned to her by society and its expectations. sage looks at the movie and sees, not an exact mirror image of herself in any of the characters, but she sees the same longing to be more than everyone expects her to be.

5. three things in their fridge?

an open and half empty bottle of champagne, too much chinese food for two girls living in their apartment & strawberries.

6. three most recently watched on netflix?

the breakfast club, stranger things & mean girls.

7. celebrity crush?

idris elba.

8. are they close to their family?

she used to be once upon a time, and in some ways she still is. when sage was fourteen years old her parents passed away and she ended up living with her aunt. while she is no longer living under her mother’s sister’s roof they are still in contact. sage makes sure to call her aunt on a semi-regular basis and the older woman is someone that she trusts. it’s just, with the way sage’s life is turning out she isn’t quite sure yet how her aunt is going to fit into it.

9. best thing in their life?

her friendships; those bonds with people mean the world to sage. her friends encourage her to break out of her shell, to become who she is meant to be, and they support her when she stumbles from time to time.

10. greatest regret?

worrying too much about other people’s opinion of her when she was younger. now that she is starting to let go of that worry it is difficult to not think about how she could’ve lived if she had done it earlier. sage can’t help but feel that maybe she would’ve been able to find herself sooner if she had just ignored the expectations.

11. biggest lie?

perhaps not the biggest lie but definitely the most frequent one used by sage would be “i don’t lie.” despite many people insisting that they do in fact not lie that’s hardly ever true, in sage’s case it certainly isn’t. she has learned when it’s better to not admit the full truth, when it’s better to keep certain things from certain people and she isn’t entirely sure that it is such a bad thing.

12. biggest flaw?

her reckless impulsivity.

13. best accomplishments?

running her first marathon when she was sixteen, graduating from high school with honors & completing her bachelors degree, and also, on a very personal level that means a lot for her, moving into her out of her aunt’s home.

14. greatest fear(s)?

being forgotten.

15. what is their vice? (wrath, greed, pride, lust, gluttony, sloth, envy)

lust; while most often associated with sexual desire it applies to sage in the way she lusts for adventure, for change in her life, for a chance to explore the darker sides of her freely.

16. what would their hogwarts house be?

gryffindor; she wants adventure and excitement, and her actions aren’t necessarily for the greater good or to reach a specifc goal but rather for her own enjoyment. sage has always been courageous and had her heart in the right place always speaking up when she feels someone is mistreated, relying on a good set of morals. but she has been dipping into the reckless abandonment side that a gryffindor often exhibits as of late.

17. have they ever broken someones heart? has someone broken theirs?

she hasn’t had her heart broken in the traditional sense of relationships, but sage is certain that her heart broke when she found out her parents had passed away in an accident.

18. have they ever been married? are they married?

no.

19. do they have children? have they before?

they have no childrens now and haven’t had any previously.

20. do they want children?

it’s not something that she has really thought about seriously. when she was a kid she imagined herself having kids. she imagined a white picket fence, a husband, two kids and a dog. but then she started to grow up and she came to realize that there had to be more to her life than just that. she came to understand that life offers so much more for those who take a chance and she wants more from life. which means, that right now children isn’t something that’s on sage’s mind.

21. opinion on pets? cats or dogs?

she is incredibly into the idea of having a pet, from that childhood family fantasy the idea of getting a dog is the only thing that sounds appealing now. so definitely dogs, though she is still fond of cats.

22. opinion on horror films?

sage isn’t the biggest fan of gore type horror films, she prefers the films within the genre that focus more on psychology.

23. do they have allergies?

she is lactose intolerant.

24. do they have tattoos or piercings?

sage has thought about it and realistically speaking it is probably not going to take long before she impulsively ends up with a piercing or a tattoo somewhere on her body. it’s not something that has happened yet but ruling out the possibility would be naïve.

25. do they have any distinctive features or marks?

two of her most distinctive features are her lips and cheekbones. she also has a scar above her left eyebrow from when she was three years old and fell against the bath tub hitting her head off of it.

26. do they enjoy coffee or tea? hot or iced?

she starts every morning with a cup of peppermint green tea. however, during the day she prefers to drink coffee and then she drinks an iced latte with almond milk.

27. are they religious or spiritual?

not in particular, she was raised in a religious family however after the accident where she lost her parents sage turned her back on religion. it didn’t feel right anymore, somehow she couldn’t bring herself to believe tin something that was supposed to be good while she lost her parents despite them being good people.

28. are they a morning person or night person?

most definitely a night person. night has always intrigued her a lot more than day ever has, when she was a little kid sage would stay up past her bed time hiding beneath the covers with a torch as she refused to close her eyes.

29. if they could have any superpower what would it be?

healing powers.

#headcanons #mine

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