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ghoste-catte · 4 years ago

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I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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saiilorstars · 3 years ago

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Darkest Before Dawn

Ch.17: Push and Pull

Steve Rogers x OFC fic

taglist:@arrthurpendragon @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @antonybridgertons @gloryekaterina @foxesandmagic @lenonizi

Story Masterlist // Seren’s Masterlist

If you’d like to be a part of this OC’s work/edits, let me know!

Chloe wobbled on the shaky metal floor as she tried to reach Natasha. Her leg was still caught under the pipe but Natasha didn't seem so preoccupied with that. Her eyes were trained on Banner.

His eyes were a dark green.

"Winters, get to Banner," Natasha instructed the blonde.

Chloe glanced over to the man and saw he was desperately fighting to keep control of himself. "Hell no! I have to get that pipe off you just in case we have to run for our lives!"

Banner's entire body was already changing.

"Doctor? Bruce, you gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We're gonna be okay. Listen to me!" Natasha spotted a few maintenance men coming to their aid but she weaved them away until they were out of sight. "We're gonna be okay. Right? I swear on my life I will get you out of this, you will walk away, and never ever -"

"Your life?" Banner's voice was no longer his own but a hard gruff one instead.

Chloe recognized it from the videos they'd seen. "Oh God." She hurried towards Natasha and grasped the pipe.

Banner was transforming.

Chloe slapped her hands over the pipe and lifted it off with all her might. The lights flickered off just as the Hulk arrived. He roared once he was in full control.

"Run, run, run!" Chloe had helped Natasha up to her feet and pushed her ahead. She turned to Banner - no, the Hulk. "Sorry about this." She fired a jet of blue energy towards him, knocking him back to where he had originally landed.

"Chloe!" Natasha called from where she was.

"I know!" Chloe broke into a fervent run to catch up.

The Hulk brought down whatever he came across with as he chased the women down. Every now and then Chloe would stop to fire at him but never to combat with him.

"Chloe!" Natasha called after hearing a big thud behind her.

"I'm good!" promised the woman, but when she found Natasha again she had a gash on the side of her head. "I just fell!"

"Mhm!" Natasha shook her head. They couldn't afford to engage like they were used to and they were losing badly.

~ 0 ~

On the other side of the ship, Steve had finally caught up with Tony. He was back in his Iron Man suit in the air, trying to examine the damage the engines sustained.

"I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris," Tony mumbled to himself, arms stretching forwards to push a pipe further inside.

A blast of energy struck him on the back, pushing his body into the piece and thus into its proper place.

With a groan, Tony peeled himself off from the rotor until he was able to turn around. Seren waited for him in the air with one arm stretched forwards, balled fist ready to attack again. "I think I found Twinkle Star," Tony said with a clearing of his throat.

Steve had looked up to see the woman as well. His heart caught in his throat at the sight of her. Even from where he stood he saw her unusually cold face. "Stark, don't hurt her."

"Uuh, is she going to hurt me?" Tony demanded, presuming that the answer wouldn't be the one he hoped for. "Maybe we can work something out," he called out to Seren. "You already pushed in one rotor so thank you—"

Seren's face scrunched with anger. Her fist glowed a colorful flame then fired again. Tony dropped lower to avoid the hit but quickly surveyed the impact it had on the rotor. She was a strong one, alright. "If we stay here, she'll destroy the engines!"

"Bring her down!" Steve exclaimed. It was better for Seren to be on the ground rather than in the air, even it meant he'd inevitably have to cross paths with her.

"Yup!" Tony was quick to dive further down, prompting Seren to follow after him. "Head to the engine control panel on your left and tell me which relays are in overload position!"

"What!? But she's right behind you—"

"I can multitask!" barked Tony. "In a minute, you'll have to as well!"

Without other options, Steve followed and rushed for the panel. He jumped and swung himself to the floor above. He ripped the control panel open and saw far too many wires.

"What's it look like in there?" called Tony. He turned around to project his own blasts against Seren. She conjured up a momentary shield then returned the favor with more star bolts.

Steve assessed as much as he could of what he saw but the truth was he still needed a lot more lessons on the electricity part of this new world. Everything flashed red and orange. "It...seems to run on some form of electricity."

Tiny paused for a second to process that answer. This was really his partner for the moment. "Well...you're not wrong."

Seren delivered a punch across his chest, shooting him down to the half-standing floor. She then looked up to where Steve was. She zoomed high to catch up with him.

~ 0 ~

The room below had grown far too dark for Chloe's and Natasha's liking. They had snuck under an engine to avoid getting thrown for the moment, but they both knew that they wouldn't be able to hide forever. Natasha had primed her gun when they decided to move out from the pipes. Chloe's fists were balled, ready to attack at the first sign of trouble. They slipped out in silence and walked cautiously. They only made it a few steps when the Hulk jumped at them, roaring at the top of his lungs. Both women screamed with him.

Natasha fired at a pipe above the Hulk's head, causing a steak of gas to spit out. She then led Chloe down a narrow passage in another run.

The Hulk was soon on their tail again, catching up with them as they were about to leave the passage. He backhanded Natasha who'd come out first then did the same with Chloe.

"C'mon Banner," Chloe begged in-between pants for air. She sat upright. "Stop all this!"

The Hulk started making way for them. Natasha was having a hard time getting up but she knew she had to when she saw the green body coming towards her. She hated that her muscles were screaming a deep 'no way' at her, keeping her to the ground.

The Hulk raised his fist to strike her but before he could lower it, he was tackled through the wall into the next room.

"Natasha!" Chloe yelled and hobbled her way towards her friend until her body could respond the way it needed to.

"What was...what was…?" Natasha was breathing heavily, clearly affected by the near death experience. She had been trained to fight and kill but nothing had prepared her for the Hulk, and it showed.

Chloe helped her stand up and looked at the big gaping hole in the wall. "Thor's taking care of him now. I hope." He did have far more strength than all of them combined; Thor could be the perfect match for the Hulk. "C'mon!" She pulled Natasha down the opposite way, having to basically lead her all the way. This fight was going to leave a bit of a scar, both literally and mentally.

'We've got a perimeter breach. Hostiles are in SHIELD gear. Call out to every junction.'

Chloe came to an abrupt stop. She glanced at Natasha, both nodding in agreement. Clint Barton would definitely be leading such a faction. If they wanted to stop him, their best chance was to fight him and subdue him.

They switched gears and headed for the bridge.

~ 0 ~

Steve had done what he hoped was the right way to "fix the relays". Tony was very quick with those instructions and he himself was panicking more with each second that passed by. "The relays are intact, what's our next—"

"Cap, she's up!" he heard Tony's urgent shout. Steve quickly looked over his shoulder just as a flaming bolt of star matter was thrown his way. He jumped to the side, landing in a tumble. "Don't let her hit the control panel!" Tony snapped.

"I'll try my best!" Steve said with a groan as he started picking himself up. Seren finally landed on the ground and walked a few steps towards him. Her eyes were so cold, it just didn't fit. "C'mon Seren, we don't have to do this."

"She's not exactly in a listening mood!" Tony flew upwards for the engines.

"Not true," Seren spoke for the first time, startling the pair. She blinked calmly with her new blue eyes. "I listen when I have to."

"Then listen to me right now!" Steve exclaimed. "Loki — he's messing with your head!"

"The Tesseract showed me something I needed," she walked a couple more steps towards him. He took back the same amount.

"I doubt whatever it showed you is something you needed."

A deep scowl crossed Seren's face. "How would you know?" she demanded in the iciest of tones then lunged on Steve with readied fists. "You don't even know me!"

"Multitask!" Steve heard Tony's voice very briefly in the midst of the fight that ensued. He didn't want to fight Seren under any circumstances. He ducked and moved to avoid her fists but he was aware that if one of them started to glow, he wouldn't be able to keep using the strategy.

"I know I haven't been a very good friend to you but I want to fix that!" Steve ducked when Seren swung an arm his way but he wasn't so lucky with the next arm. Her fist collided with his cheek and sent him back a few steps. His eyes were wide with shock. She'd actually moved him. No one had yet to do that to him and yet Seren did it without breaking a sweat. Honestly, he never thought he would meet someone who could match him — possibly outmatch him.

Seren scoffed. "Oh please, the man out of his Time. What do you know about me and this world?" When she lunged again with glowing fists, Steve caught her by the wrists.

"That's what Loki said to me which means you're not the one talking!" Steve held onto her wrists as tightly as he could and even that was a struggle.

"I'm the one talking!" Seren snapped. One touch was all she needed to hurt him. It forced Steve to do the same against her. It was genuinely stunning to see they were locked in a push-and-pull mode. When this was all over and Seren was back to normal — because she would be completely fine after this — he would commend her for telling the truth about their similar physiology.

Right now, though, he had to think about winning...even if it meant hurting her. If he knew Seren, and he liked to think that he did, then she would want him to stop her from hurting people. With that mentality, he switched gears. He stopped pushing against her, making her nearly fall forwards. He grabbed her arm midfall and, regretfully, slammed her against the wall face-first. He quickly grabbed her wrists and pinned them on her back.

"Seren, c'mon, snap out of it!"

She growled and shook her body to get out of his hold. "You're stupid if you think words will make all this better. If you were smart enough, you'd join us."

That wasn't Seren. It couldn't be. "Seren, what did the Tesseract show you?"

A sour laugh left Seren's lips — something so unlike her.

Up above, Tony had done good on his repairments. The next step, however, was a bit more complicated. "Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump. I'm gonna have to get in there and push."

Steve held onto Seren's wrists tightly, as much as he could actually. She was proving her strength and if things weren't so dire, he'd be a little alarmed. "If that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded…"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Remember what I said about multi-tasking? Stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage maglev and that should—"

Now it was Steve's turn to roll his eyes. "Speak English!" He shouted.

Tony groaned loudly enough to make his point. "See that red lever?" Steve looked over to see the bright red lever in front of him. "It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word."

"Easier said than done!"

Seren suddenly stopped struggling. Steve barely looked down at her wrists when she shoved her entire body against his. The two landed near the edge of the floor, one over the other. Seren quickly rolled off him and tried making a fly up. Steve reacted fast and grabbed her leg, pulling her down. She landed flat on her back next to him and took a moment as she groaned.

Steve was already looking at her when she turned her head his way. "You should have told me about the Tesseract, Seren..."

Seren scoffed. "And do what? Help me? Please. Didn't you end up at the bottom of the ocean for that thing? Maybe if you'd hidden it better, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Maybe..." Steve considered the idea with a sigh, "And then you wouldn't be like this. Weaponized by an alien."

"Newsflash, Captain, I am an alien. Everyone's always been so afraid of that detail!" Seren kicked herself up on her feet. "And now I've turned into the thing they most feared." She raised her hands, fingers spread apart as energy danced between them. "You met Seren — mousy little Seren," she feigned a pout for a second before an unsual hardness took over her face, "Seren, who walks with her head down; Seren, who watches her every word. Now you're dealing with Stardust. She—" she smirked, "—is all alien." Her hands balled into fists and the energy around them radiated. "No restrictions, no restraints — freedom." She charged for Steve, drawing back one arm to fire a series of star bolts.

Steve ducked to avoid the first round but after that it became a series of narrow escapes.

~ 0 ~

Chloe's and Natasha's plans to reach the bridge were cut short upon meeting another faction of Clint's group. If they wanted to reach the bridge at all, they needed to get rid of the group. So, they fought but in doing so, they were separated. It was only when they heard the intercom say the Hulk was down on Earth that they were able to gather some sense around them.

Whether or not that was good news was left undecided as the next time the intercom talked, it was to announce that another of their engines was down.

"One more and we're dead!" Natasha exclaimed. "What the hell are those idiots doing outside?"

"Seren's out there!" Chloe reminded.

"It's Barton, he took out our systems," Fury's voice rang through their earpieces. "He's headed for the detention lab. Does anybody copy?"

Natasha stiffened. She met Chloe's look, silently announcing that this was her mission. Chloe wouldn't protest. "This is Agent Romanoff. I copy," she answered.

"You sure?" Chloe asked. She had never known Natasha to be compromised in any mission but she was aware of the deep connection she had to Clint. This could be the first time and she didn't want Natasha to be alone when it happened.

Natasha nodded firmly. "Yeah. Get to the bridge!"

~ 0 ~

"Stark, we're losing altitude!" Tony heard Fury's angry declaration whilst he was pushing a rotor back into place.

"Yeah, I got that! Handling it!" He was really doing his best here. He had flown in-between the rotors and was pushing as much as he could. They slowly picked up speed but it didn't seem to be enough in the beginning. He had to push harder.

So he did...and it started to work. The helicarrier ultimately pulled itself back and now all that was left was for Steve to pull that lever so he could slip from the rotors.

But that didn't happen.

Steve was trying to avoid Seren again. She'd left behind her powers for the moment to strike him the old fashioned way. Where she tried punching — and she had already — he would just dodge.

"Pathetic!" Seren spat after Steve's latest dodge. "This is what history rambled on about? A man who won't even fight?"

"I don't want to fight you, Seren!? Don't you get it!?" Steve exclaimed. "You're my friend! You're the one who showed me how to live in this new world!"

"An assignment," Seren said coldly, coming to a momentary ceasefire to get the point across. "Agent Soul was assigned to help Captain America re-adjust. Don't you get it? You were just a job."

"Maybe," Steve nodded, feigning like that wasn't actually puncturing his heart a bit—or maybe slightly more than he wanted to think. "But you didn't have to be my friend. That wasn't Agent Soul. That was Seren and I really grew to like her. And I'm sorry for being such a crappy friend in return. I was so centered in my misery, my pain, that I didn't take the opportunity to get to know you."

Seren's expression had gone stoic. For a second, Steve wondered if he'd been able to momentarily to cut through the Tesseract's mind control.

"ROGERS!" Tony shouted when one of the rotors caught him and spun him around at top speed.

Steve winced at the loud scream in his ear. At the same time, Seren rushed forward to ram her fist on his face. He barely caught her by the wrist then shoved her back. She stumbled back a few steps then came right back. "Seren, please!" He said desperately as he grabbed her in a chokehold. He held her tightly, a part him of unsure if he was trying to hug her instead. He didn't care that this was the closest equal battle he'd fought in, he cared that he was fighting his own friend — the only friend he had in this world and he couldn't even reach her, pull her out from the darkness that she'd unknowingly pulled him out of.

"Beg all you want," Seren laughed, twisting every which way to break free. "As we speak, Clint's taking out the others inside the Helicarrier. In five more minutes, I'll strike you and Stark down."

"Seren!"

"She's not going to listen!" Tony yelled again. "Clock her out! Aren't you packed with strength or something?"

"Did you forget - so is she!?" Steve tightened his grip more. This wouldn't last very long.

Tony would give Steve the point after he stopped the rotors. "C'MON! I'm going to die in here!"

Steve caught another of Seren's fists and used his grip on her to throw her in the opposite direction. He would apologize later. He dashed for the lever. He heard Seren's bolts coming before they reached him. He ducked and kept running, nearly tripping on his own feet. Finally, his hand grabbed onto the lever and yanked it down.

The rotor would then spit Tony's body out through one of its vents. He used the last of his suit's strength to fly directly for Seren, ramming her down to the ground. She glared at him, her fist glowing again when Tony slammed her head against the ground. She wasn't going to stay awake after that.

"Night, night, Twinkle Star," Tony fell to the side with a heavy breath.

Steve hurried back to the two and knelt down beside Seren's body. He pressed two fingers on her neck to feel her pulse and while it was there, he thought it could be a little bit stronger than what it was. He cradled Seren's head, hoping she would wake up and not be brainwashed? If it was even possible...

"Yeah, I'm fine too, thanks," Tony said from his spot, groaning. "Word of advice, if you have a little crush on the woman, let someone else fight her."

Steve wanted to punch Tony so badly...

~ 0 ~

The remaining group regathered in the briefing room. The air was terse from their fight and the ending result. Thor and the Hulk were gone. Seren and Clint were out-cold, their mind status unknown yet. Agent Coulson was dead. Loki had killed him without a second thought and now he was gone with the Tesseract.

Fury tossed Phil's set of cards over the table where Steve and Tony were sitting. "These were in Phil Coulson's jacket. Guess he never did get you to sign them."

Steve noticed the bright red spots on a couple of the cards. Blood. He was swallowed hard. They should have been more focused. Now everything was all wrong.

"We're dead in the air up here. Our communications, location of the cube, Banner, Thor. I got nothing for you…" Fury started going on for the others in the room, "Lost my one good eye. Think I had that coming. Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number, though, because I was playing something even riskier. There was an idea - Soul and Stark know this - called the Avengers Initiative."

Steve met Fury's gaze. He'd heard the name briefly from Seren at one point.

"It started a long time ago with Agent Soul. She was the first we recruited and as time went by, there was talks to expand it and include more people. A team. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to, to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes. Well, it's an old fashioned notion."

Chloe walked into the room then, immediately claiming the attention. Steve quickly turned in his chair, anxious to hear about Seren. Chloe was looking directly at Fury, her expression rather hard. "The Initiative is Seren's life's work — it shouldn't even belong to S.H.I.E.L.D. at this point. It's hers."

"If that's what she was working on, then maybe it's a good thing she's out cold," Tony said as he pushed himself up from his seat.

"Hey," Steve glared at the man beside him, "Whatever you think you know, you don't. What happened to Seren should never happen to anyone."

"It's more of what you don't know," Tony countered, meeting Fury's gaze, "See this isn't the first time I hear about this stupid Initiative. Some of just don't make the cut, right?"

Steve followed Tony's gaze towards Fury, as did Chloe, but of course Fury never responded. Tony hadn't expected anything less and left the room altogether.

"What was he talking about?" Steve demanded from Fury.

"Agent Soul never spoke about it?" Fury sounded like he didn't believe it regardless of whatever Steve was going to respond with.

"Seren was professional," Steve frowned. "She didn't speak about her missions much, especially not some Initiative. So, what is it?"

"It's not your prerogative, I'm afraid," Fury said, making a round on the table, "It's dead, anyways."

"No, it's not," snapped Chloe, her brow furrowing angrily on behalf of her beloved friend. "And I bet if Seren had known your intentions with Stark, she would have had a thing or two to say about it. You should have never sent in Natasha in her place anyways."

Steve had no idea what Chloe was talking about but since it did sound like Seren had been displaced by Natasha, he didn't like it one bit. He stood up from his chair, fixating another glare towards Fury. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Fury said incredulously, "Agent Winters do not forget where you stand in all this. You know well you should be halfway around the world by now."

"Fat chance," Chloe spat, "I'm not leaving until Seren is better and this is all over." She then walked up beside Steve and grabbed his arm. "We're going to go see Seren now and if she decides to take over, we're going to let her. This is her domain anyways."

Fury let them leave without saying anything.

~ 0 ~

Chloe led the way in the hallway, her pace hasty. Her mind was spiraling with everything that was going on and having an active Hive Mind in her head wasn't helping the situation. They were buzzing from her emotions and their emotions put together.

"Chloe!" Steve called, having no trouble keeping up with her. "You gotta tell me what all that was about."

"I'd rather Seren do it, honestly. I'm not good with talking about this stuff. Seren's always been better at it."

"Well, Seren's not here right now and you're about the only person I trust in this place so please—" Steve grabbed Chloe's arm and turned her around, "—have some pity and just tell me what's going on. Why's Stark more pissed about this than he should be? And what's Seren got to do with it and this-this Initiative Fury was talking about?"

Chloe sighed and gently pushed Steve's hand off her arm. "Steve, it's seriously a long story. And it's all about Seren. She needs to be the one to tell you. I'm telling you — yes, Fury came up with the idea but Seren is the one who brought it to life. It's hers. It's like her baby."

Steve still found a quick alternative. "What about Stark? What's his problem? Seren's not even here and he's acting like—"

"Stark is just pissed because of Natasha," Chloe shrugged, "And Fury. He's bitter and if I had a report written about me, I probably would have been to."

"Report? What report?"

Chloe licked her lips. "It's really—"

"Chloe."

"A while back, Fury sent Natasha undercover to pose as Tony's assistant — or his girlfriend's assistant — so that she could observe Tony."

"Observe him for what?"

"To see if he would be a good candidate for the Initiative," Chloe said, rolling her eyes, "Seren's new partner."

"And let me guess," Steve crossed his arms, "Seren doesn't know about it?"

"I'm sure Fury never told her about it," Chloe said.

"Natasha?"

"I never know what that woman. But the point is, in the report that Natasha wrote, she basically said Tony wouldn't be a good fit."

"And now he's taking it out on Seren," Steve nodded to himself. He understood Tony's thought process but hated it nonetheless. "Fine, I'll set him straight."

"No!" Chloe exclaimed, latching onto his arm before he left her. "We need to check on Seren first. If I know her, she's going to be blaming herself for what happened. You really don't get how important this stuff is to her. She's going to need us. C'mon..." She gently pulled Steve with her, only letting him go when she was sure that he would follow her.

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abracadaze · 3 years ago

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since it’s a hot topic right now, here are my ai art opinions, even though nobody asked me. i should preface this by saying i’m not an ai engineer or a computer ethicist, but i am an artist!

i like ai art. i think it can produce some pretty cool stuff. publicly available ai programs are powerful nowadays, and it’s cool that anyone with a computer has the ability to make solidly interesting art using ai as a tool. it’s also not a complete crapshoot. in order to make consistently good ai art, you have to practice and know your way around the programs you’re using. i make ai art pretty frequently, usually using artbreeder. it’s fun!

but i think there are some ethical problems. ai and neural networks work because they’ve been fed gigabytes of information to teach them what the images they produce are supposed to look like. if a neural network creates photorealistic portraits, like thispersondoesnotexist, then it was fed thousands or even millions of portraits photographed by actual humans so it could learn what a human face is. in this way, generating something using ai is like a group project whose members are you, a computer, and the countless people who produced the source data. your ai generated song is a collaboration between you and thousands of other artists.

the problem here is pretty obvious. for those open about their art being ai generated, there’s no real issue, at least not on this front (there are other ethics-related problems in the ai world that i’m not going to get into here). but someone claiming they alone created their ai generated art is almost certainly lying. if they are using someone else’s program trained on other people’s work, it’s not a solo venture.

all things considered, i think it’s best to treat ai art like commissioning an artist. you give the artist a prompt and some pointers, you’re definitely involved in the process, and you own the finished piece. but it wasn’t you who did the brunt of the work, and claiming that you created art you commissioned is a huge faux pas in artistic spaces. it should be the same with ai. post it online, maybe even submit it to competitions if it’s allowed, but don’t claim it’s your original work.

the lines get blurrier when you edit a piece of ai art, which is what i tend to do, or you produce something inspired by an ai generation (using a simple generated melody to construct an entire song, completely repainting a generated image, making collages out of generated photos), but i think it’s still important to give credit to the ai program in these situations.

unless you trained the program yourself solely on work that only you created, your art is directly derived from other people’s. all art is derivative! but this level of derivation is historically unprecedented. this is new territory. we need new guidelines.

hopefully within the next few years etiquette regarding ai work in the art community will develop. hopefully in five years it will be very frowned upon to pass off ai work as your own. but we need to start being critical now so that these changes actually happen. if all we do is panic about how ai programs will replace flesh and blood artists, then we won’t be doing anything to stop that from eventually happening. ai isn’t the end of the world unless we let it be!

#ai artwork #computer ethics #neural networks #ai generated images #ai ethics #daze.txt

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amillionlanguages · 6 years ago

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2+ Months of Language Learning Prompts!

Sometimes it can be tricky to know what to learn if you are teaching yourself a language. Here are some ideas for what you can focus on learning each day for the first two months of learning a new language! I formatted it so there is the general topic for the day and then in parentheses are some ideas to get you started but you can definitely learn a lot more than what I’ve written down! These are just to help generate some ideas!

This definitely would move pretty quickly if you covered all this material in 2 months so you could definitely spend more time on each topic if you need! This would require quite a bit of time each day in order to learn it all. This could totally work for a 4 or 6-month challenge where you spend 2 or 3 days on each of the topics I listed if you don’t have enough time to cover each topic in just one day!

Polite phrases (thank you, please, yes/no, you’re welcome, I’m sorry)

Introductory phrases (hi, my name is, I’m from, I speak, how are you?)

Pronouns (I, you, he, she, they, we)

Basic people vocab (girl, boy, man, woman, person, child)

Basic verbs in present tense (to eat, to drink, to walk, to read, to write, to say)

Sentence structure (how to form some basic sentences)

Negative sentences (I do not __)

Question words (who, what, where, when, why, how, how to form questions)

Numbers (0-20, 30, 40, 50, 100, 1,000, 1,000,000)

Time (hour, minute, half hour, reading the time)

Meals (breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, dessert, appetizer)

Basic foods (apple, banana, rice, bread, pasta, carrot, soup, water)

More foods (beef, pork, fruit, vegetable, juice, coffee, tea, chocolate, cake)

Kitchen (stove, oven, kitchen, fridge, table, chair, bake, boil)

Eating supplies (knife, spoon, fork, plate, bowl, cup, glass)

More verbs (to make, to have, to see, to like, to go, to be able to, to want, to need)

Family (father, mother, son, daughter, aunt, uncle, cousin, grandmother, grandfather, parents, grandparents)

Transportation (car, train, plane, bus, bicycle, airport, train station)

City locations (apartment, building, restaurant, movie theater, market, hotel, bank)

Directions (north, south, east, west, right, left)

Adjectives (good, bad, smart, delicious, nice, fun)

More verbs (to give, to send, to wake up, to cry, to love, to hate, to laugh)

Colors (red, yellow, blue, green, purple, black, white, brown)

Emotions (happy, sad, calm, angry)

Physical descriptions (tall, short, blonde, brunette, redhead, eye color)

Body parts (arm, leg, hand, finger, foot, toe, face, eye, mouth, nose, ears)

Descriptors (rich, poor, beautiful, ugly, expensive, inexpensive)

Basic clothing (shirt, pants, dress, skirt, jacket, sweater, skirt, shorts)

Accessories (belt, hat, wallet, gloves, sunglasses, purse, watch)

More verbs (to keep, to smile, to run, to drive, to wear, to remember)

Animals (cat, dog, horse, cow, bear, pig, chicken, duck, fish)

More animals (turtle, sheep, fox, mouse, lion, deer)

Months (January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December)

Seasons (fall, winter, spring, summer)

Weather (sunny, cloudy, hot, cold, snowing, raining)

States of being (I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m thirsty)

House (bedroom, living room, bathroom, stairs)

Furniture (bed, lamp, couch, door, window)

Electronics (phone, TV, computer, camera, radio, headphones)

Nature (tree, flower, plant, animal, grass, animal, outside, sky, sun, moon, clouds)

More verbs (to teach, to learn, to understand, to know, to listen, to hear)

School (classroom, elementary school, high school, college, student, class, grade, homework, test)

School subjects (math, science, English, art, music, chemistry, biology, physics)

School supplies (book, pencil, pen, paper, notebook, folder, backpack, calculator)

Classroom features (student desk, teacher desk, whiteboard, chalk, clock, bell)

Jobs (teacher, scientist, doctor, artist, dancer, musician)

More jobs (surgeon, manager, engineer, architect, lawyer, dentist, writer)

More verbs (to buy, to sell, to work, to ask, to answer, to dance, to leave, to come)

Comparisons (less than, more than, same, __er than)

Languages (French, German, Chinese, Russian, Spanish, English, Japanese)

Countries (France, Germany, China, Russia, Spain, Mexico, United States, Japan)

Religion (church, temple, mosque, to pray, Judaism, Christianity, Islam)

Past tense (I was, he ran, she wrote)

Hobbies (shopping, sports, soccer, chess, fishing, gardening, photography)

More verbs (to describe, to sleep, to find, to wish, to enter, to feel, to think)

Art (paint, draw, painting, gallery, frame, brush)

Morning routine (to wake up, to brush teeth, toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, soap)

Future tense (I will run, he will write)

TV + internet (online, internet, to watch TV, TV show, movie, documentary, cartoon)

More verbs (to look for, to stay, to touch, to meet, to show, to rent, to wash, to play)

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hournites · 4 years ago

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Charles mcnider was a literal doctor. Even in the comics the third midnite (Pietre cross) was more of support then active field member. He saved their lives so many times because of his medical knowledge and abilities. (There was even that great story in which the villain was holding people hostage unless midnite could rumor a tumor from his grandfather.) The problem with Beths character is that the need to make her the same age as the others robbed us of seeing a black, female doctor fighting crime. Honestly she should have been older (she could have been a prodigy or something. Maybe even 25 because there are 7 year college and med school programs. The she could have been a first year resident when the show started). But the Beth we got doesn’t actually do anything on her own. It’s the goggles. At the very least, Courtney, Rick, and Yolanda all bring something more to the tools they have. I just hope that we get an explanation on how beth got the goggles back online that explains her sudden ability with that kind of tech and then we can explore like an oracle side to her.

I understand what you're saying and where you are coming from, I do. But I don't think it's fair or accurate to say Beth has not actually done anything on her own. On her own, the JSA exists.

From her debut Dr. Mid-Nite episode in 1x05, it establishes narratively that Beth is useful to the team at that point in the same way it was established Artemis was not. Beth is a communicator, a mediator, and without her, there would have been no Rick on team JSA. With Beth, there is no more source of income from the ISA. All of the decisions she's made are her own. The goggles never told her what to do, merely gave contexts and provided assistance when prompted. The goggles never told her she should make the move to donate all of the Gambler's money to charities. They never told her she needed to investigate Cindy Burman's house. Honestly, I don't even think the other kids could handle the multitasking ability required to handle the goggles with Chuck. It's a sensory overload if not managed properly, and she's still keeping up with the rest. It takes intelligence, determination and bravery to put herself in such a position in light of her limitations.

A high school student who has rarely ever paid attention in class cracking a master chemist's equations in the span of two months is no more believable than a lonely girl with an above perfect GPA to teach herself coding/soft engineering over 6 months.

Also, while I am pretty sure Beth is likely to go into medicine and become a doctor, a doctor is not what a hero makes. Beth earning credentials is not going to suddenly validate her position on the team. I love comic!Beth treating Henry Jr. and rushing out to help the both the wounded JSA and villains they come across. She's awesome and I felt SO happy reading comics with her because Beth Chapel truly was a hidden inspiration of her era. But our Beth has compassion and empathy and from what we see again and again, I see Comic!Beth developing through our Beth that we know.

The girl wants to fight. Why can't we let her?

Absolutely, Beth needs to train more and learn to be comfortable combatting, and this season is the time and place for her to do it. She has Hourman watching her back as a defence, and is entering an environment where she may become the only JSA member with a full visibility to see what is going on in the dark.

Beth is only going to grow up. She's going to get older and more experienced just like the rest. We can speculate she'll develop an interest as a team medic but at the end of the day it doesn't exactly matter with where she is right now. Right now, Beth hasn't even had that much character room to grow. But it's nitpicking to fault her for this. She didn't get her own full episode, she didn't get her own training montage or special instructions from Pat. Anj has said Beth goes through tremendous character growth this season, and I believe it based on what we are already starting to see. Let's give this 16 year old a chance and come back at the end of the season.

#dr mid nite #beth chapel #stargirl #hn talks #Anon we are on the same page #I understand what you mean and I appreciate it too #but the point of a journey is having a journey #courtney and rick and yolanda are neither perfect themselves and it's very much satisfying to watch heroes grow into their best selves #rather than seeing them show up already as experts #it's not realistic #anon #ask

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absentcaryatid · 4 years ago

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These Breasts Belong In Your Hands

Chapter One of the Juicy Cock Saga, an ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

Fluff and innuendo only, all talk and no action but still markedly NSFW, 1K words

You may wish to read the Prologue first: She Came on a Red Motorbike

“These Breasts Belong In Your Hands” the large letters in an attention grabbing neon shade screamed across San’s chest. The illustrated fried chicken shirt had actually been a freebie thank you gift to Yeosang after his 25th chicken delivery order but the mortifying shirt was never going to be his style so San had eagerly taken over the castoff item.

The innuendo clearly agreed with him because he also was wearing the matching sweatpants sold at your restaurant boldly emblazoned on the abdomen with “Juicy Cock will satisfy you!” Once your eyes returned upward San greeted you with a self-satisfied smile but an apologetic shrug at his laundry laden arms so he turned away from the door to call out the now standard running joke among the housemates, “Yeosang, your true love is here.”

Following the delightful scent Yeosang soon arrived at the entryway to find you face palming with your free hand, shaking your head, but also giggling slightly from underneath it. Sighing wearily but with affection he apologized saying “San can be a lot sometimes. Wooyoung too, he has a matching set except he got the pants that say ‘never dry, always moist’ up the inner thighs.”

You nodded in embarrassed recognition.

“They like to torment the convenience store clerks with their salacious outfits.”

“I would not call mutual flirting with the convenience store clerks torment,” San called from the couch nearby as he folded his freshly washed clothes.

Mingi looked up from his phone. “Really? The cute one and the tall one?”

“Yeah.”

Considering the issue you observed, “Well it is probably torment for the clerks if the flirting never goes further.”

“Oh is that all that happens?” San grinned.

Wooyoung chimed in to add, “What makes you assume we haven’t gone further?”

The shock on Mingi’s face was only partially about the escapades of his teammates. “Is this why I’m never the one getting free samples put into my bag?”

Your attention returned to Yeosang who had been laughing along with the exchange. Standing there yourself in a work shirt bearing “JUICY COCK TAKEOUT AND DELIVERY We come fast!” you began to ask forgiveness for your own apparel.

Really this was all your family’s fault for making the lewdly suggestive garments. You recalled how your grandmother had named the restaurant Juicy Cock hoping the perfectly innocently explainable English words would entice customers. “But you see we haven’t had the heart to tell her it is all smutty. Mom and her sister did not get that vocabulary in English classes and I was horrified once I learned enough of the slang to recognize it as innuendo.”

In the back of your mind you did harbor suspicions about how much your uncle understood and if he should have headed all this off years ago. The blunter the tie-in clothing messages became the more you knew somebody making decisions for the company had to be aware of all the double entendres. The odds of every message having a 'not safe for work' interpretation were astronomical.

“Your grandmother knows more than you give her credit for. My guess is she only plays innocent but knows a fantastic market strategy when she sees it.”

You nodded at Yeosang's thoughtful and probably accurate assessment then conceded he did know a bit about branding with ATEEZ being a perfect name choice.

“Our group ranks high in English alphabetical order plus if you search for ATEEZ online the unique name gets you only the right results.”

Following his train of thought prompted you to say, “We aren't so much a category dominator with ‘Juicy Cock’ though. Of course I have never tried it, looking it up on a search engine that is, or well, either meaning actually,” you deadpanned. Your eyes widened in absolute horror as you realized you just really did have that conversation out loud in front of your favorite idol and the assorted living room crew instead of merely in your head.

“Crap! Oh shit, I said crap! Oh fuck, I said shit!” This was really not your day. You clapped a hand over your mouth before your panicked mind ran away with you further though how it could escalate any worse you could not imagine.

Concerned you had lost your best customer forever and paralyzed by fear you waited out his silence. Time slowed to a crawl as you pictured how swiftly your grandmother would hear of your royal screw-up. People don’t fire family, right? Just doomed you to a remaining lifetime of servitude over the dishwasher and garbage cans and as far from any customer interaction as possible. Maybe you could change your name and open up a branch in another town in another country on another continent. Was Mars an option?

As Yeosang turned back toward you and straightened up again you observed his face was deeply red. Not good. You feared it was in anger or embarrassment but it seemed more like he had stopped breathing temporarily. Finally regaining enough air he began howling uncontrollably with pent-up laughter. This was no demure “hehet” or fake scoff you had heard from him before, there were tears in his eyes already falling on both sides of his face. So maybe you were not on the brink of unemployment. You hoped.

Already having passed over the bag of chicken long ago there had been no need to have lingered at the door. You had been enjoying your frequent interactions together too much and it surprised you how easily the two of you had fallen into a habit of casual conversation beyond the necessities of your roles of customer and delivery person.

Suddenly you had found your normally reserved self too relaxed today and look where it had gotten you. Quickly slinking back to the elevator area you noticed it took the longest time ever for it to reach the floor you were on. Daring a sideways glance, you could tell the door to their apartment was still open with Yeosang watching your disappearance. He may have just been frozen there in mortification. It took all your willpower refusing to turn enough to catch the expression on his face.

On to Chapter Two: Makes Your Mouth Water and Fills You Up

Look forward to Seonghwa saying “You’ve come again.”

Masterlist

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez smut #yeosang #san #wooyoung #mingi #Juicy Cock Saga #kpop smut

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ask-the-trains · 3 years ago

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Hello there, my darlings!

Yes, you have now reached the Ask/RP Superhighway of

✨Apollo Victoria✨

// RULES:

- In terms of characters you want to interact with, I am comfortable with playing all canon trains and a few of my OC's. (i.e: Mavis & The Georgias. Feel free to find out more about them here!: https://ask-the-trains.tumblr.com/post/676385998667644928/about-my-ocs) EXCEPT for the national engines and TRAX. - I may be over 18, but I will still not accept any NSFW asks and prompts. - I am comfortable with doing some AU asks. However, it depends on the kind of AU you request. The same applies to any ship requests.

- Just because I'll reblog certain RP memes, DOES NOT mean you have to use only these. Get creative! Do whatcha like! ;) - I am in the EST area, and will not be online all the while. If you do not get a reply back sooner, it means I may be busy. So, try to be patient and know I’ll get back to you when I have time free! :) - We’re here for a lovely time, not a bad time. ;)

#starlight express #stex #stex rp #intro and rules page

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theprofessionalpromptmaker · 4 years ago

Note

Combine Nova Seed (indie animated film) with Deponia (P&C adventure game).

(This took so long to answer because I struggled to find a place to watch Nova Seed and I couldn’t find any good summaries of it online. But I finally found a place to watch it [though it kept freezing every 5 seconds], so here are your prompts!)

Person A was the energy core for a lab, a being of energy and life-force, able to make plants grow and create electricity, but then the lab gets attacked by a military group made up of Person B+, who take Person A back with them, and aren’t in agreement what to do with Person A, since bringing them back to the people who hired them wasn’t specified in the job since Person A wasn’t known about, and Person A will probably just be imprisoned and used again if they brought Person A back to the people who hired them. So they decide to take Person A in as part of their group and trains them to fight with their unique powers.

Person A exists in a world where people with extreme powers are captured and used to fuel ships, living in a comatose state at the core of the ship as their energy source. Person A’s ship has just been shot down by people, Peron B+, on the surface the planet, wanting to harvest it for parts, but find Person A and aren’t sure what Person A does or what their purpose was, assumes they were a prisoner, and decide to help Person A.

Person A is an adventurer with a ship, who recently took on a pair of travelers who claims to be siblings, Person B and Person C. But as they travel together, Person A realizes strange things keep happening around Person C, and Person B finally comes clean that they kidnapped Person C, a specially crafted android and altered their memory chip to make Person C believe they were siblings. But that Person C is actually a highly prized fighting machine, and will be used to wipe out life on the planet they’re on, which Person B is trying to avoid by handing Person C off to a rebel protection squad. But Person A has doubts about the protection squad Person B speaks of.

Person A is an energy being, harvested from the hearts of dying stars to fuel ships, but humans believe Person A’s kind to be not sentient. Person B, a child/teen on one of the ships, begins playing and communicating with Person A through the energy fields of the ship and starts trying to track down the source of their new friend, and by the time they reach adulthood, are just about to give up looking for their mysterious “ghost” friend. But then Person B is brought to the room Person A is kept, and told how to maintain and keep Person A in their unconscious state. But Person A starts communicating with Person B through the energy fields again and Person B realizes it’s their childhood friend.

Person A is an android shell fused with the heart of a planet-core being, a being who’s life force fuels the entire planet they used to be part of, and now that they were removed from it, their planet has died. Person B is the engineer working for the evil overlord who has been handed Person A to study and weaponize, but Person B starts to bond with Person A and starts wanting to protect them and not make this being who oozes life force be forced to kill.

Person A is an android shell fused with the heart of a planet-core being, a being who’s life force fuels the entire planet they used to be part of, and now that they were removed from it, their planet has died. Person B is a soldier who was hired to destroy Person A as they were deemed a threat and a weapon to be used by the enemy. But when Person B meets Person A, who appears as a child/child-like, they find themself unable to kill them and decide to flee with Person A, stealing a spacecraft and taking Person A far away to hide in the farthest reaches of the galaxy. Person B takes Person A to one of the many dead planets in the solar system, thinking they’ll hide, but then Person A starts to revive the planet, bringing it back to life, and other travelers have begun to take notice.

- Mod Poss, the Professional Prompt Maker

Want more prompts? At the $10 Tier on Patreon, patrons receive 10+ prompts for every request!

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jeranasblog · 5 years ago

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Everything is about trust

Notes: This is my exchange fic for @starkerkink and my lovely prompt partner is TellMeNoAgain. I really hope you like it <3 (and thanks a lot for editing, Mads)

Rating: E

Pairing: Peter Parker/ Tony Stark

Summary: "During a fight, Tony tells Peter to drop back, and Peter swings forward, earning himself a stupid injury and giving Tony a minor heart attack. Tony's had enough- it's time to teach Peter what happens when bad boys don't listen."

Warnings: Dom/Sub, Punishment, Orgasm Denial, For further warnings (especially smut) check Ao3

Read on Ao3

Peter sat in the back row of the classroom, the wall to his left and Stuard, a student who was always sleeping at school, to his right. Even though they currently had physics, Peter’s favorite class, he had still decided to shut his brain off because he probably knew everything he could learn today anyway. Usually, he still participated since his grades were very important to get into MIT, but thanks to his boyfriend, he wasn't even coherent enough to explain the theory of relativity even if he wanted to.

Everything had started yesterday during an Avengers mission. Iron man, better known as Tony Stark and Peter’s boyfriend, had warned Peter not to come too close. Another villain had decided to attack New York City, nothing special so far, but he had used mean poison that burned through all layers of clothes. Not through an Iron Man armor, though, so Tony had ordered Peter to stay back and let him handle it.

Peter had wanted to obey, really, but then the monster had run towards Tony, and Peter had panicked, so he had thrown himself in front of Iron Man. A drop of poison had landed on his hand which had not been covered by his suit because Peter had adjusted his web-shooters a minute ago and his gloves had bothered him.

Thankfully, Peter wasn’t completely human and after an hour of tears and screams, he was as good as new again, no troubles, really. But Tony, apparently, disagreed because he had lectured Peter for over an hour this morning. He had even come to the small apartment in Queens, and May, the traitor, who also thought Peter’s actions had been stupid, listened to Tony and did nothing but smirk. So dramatic, both of them.

Unfortunately, Tony knew him too well, so he had already assumed the lecture wouldn’t stick. After an hour of screaming and yelling, he had grabbed Peter in front of May and brought him to his room, carried over his shoulder like a small child. Peter’s face had burned and he could only hope May wouldn’t mock him with it until the day one of them died.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Tony’s attitude had changed. He acted less like a disappointed principle and more like Peter’s Dom. Not good. Especially since Peter had about thirty minutes left until he had to leave for school and there was no way Tony would allow him to skip it for sex.

For a moment, Peter had thought he might have been wrong because Tony had crowded him against his wall and pulled down his pants.

“Turn around, boy. Show me your hole. I won’t wait today.” Who could blame Peter for thinking he would get Tony’s beautiful thick cock at this moment? Right, no one.

But of course, Tony wouldn’t reward him after the stunt he had pulled last night. Instead of his boyfriend's length, a cold metal toy was pressed inside of him. Thankfully, it was already lubed and not that thick because Peter hadn’t been prepped enough. This would be doable. The toy wasn��t thicker than one, maybe two inches. But as soon as Tony had pulled up his trousers, he had smirked evilly and pulled a remote out of his pocket.

Oh, god. The girth of the toy was not only increasing, it apparently had an integrated lube shooter function as well because Peter could feel how something slick splashed against his insides. He whimpered like a whore while he tried not to tremble and fall on the ground.

“Shhh, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll drive you to school and pick you up after. You just have to get through the day.”

Peter moaned pathetically while he tried unsuccessfully to lessen the friction against his sweet spot. He just had to get through the day, he wouldn’t even have to take the subway. Easy.

It was anything but easy. Every hour, the horrible toy expanded half an inch and released more lube inside of him until Peter was scared he would leak on the chair. He was constantly aroused and it was torture to hide his hard on in his pants without anyone noticing. Ned had asked him multiple times why he was so jumpy today and Peter’s answer had been nothing more than a dismissive grunt. Thankfully, his teachers had left him alone.

When the bell rang after the last hour, Peter jumped up and regretted his move instantly. The not-so-small-anymore dildo shifted and rubbed full force against his pleasure point. His eyes rolled back and he had to suppress a loud moan in the middle of his classroom.

“Look at that, Peter is in a hurry,” Flash scoffed. “Probably all too eager to see his Sugar Daddy.”

Peter was too aroused to give a fuck about Flash, so he smiled brightly and winked at him. “So true. I can’t wait for him to fuck me in his million-dollar car.”

And before Flash could say anything in return, Peter had already left.

~*~

The ride home was torture. Tony hadn’t been busy apparently, so he had picked Peter up personally. His boyfriend didn’t mention the stupid toy once, not even when it suddenly inflated even more, and to Peter’s horror, started to vibrate.

Peter had spent the entire ride moaning, sobbing, and begging for mercy, but Tony only looked at the road even though the car could drive on its own. This was all because Peter had been a little bit injured. Tony was so dramatic.

When they finally entered the bedroom, Peter was a mess. He couldn’t even walk anymore, so he was crawling behind Tony, struggling with every step. His pupils were blown wide, his hair disheveled, and his pants were decorated with a huge wet spot right in the middle.

“Strip, boy.” Tony’s voice was firmer than usual, and Peter would have thought his boyfriend was unaffected if he hadn’t seen the bulge in his pants. “I want you naked on the bed, ass up. You have two minutes. If you don’t obey, I won’t let you come for a month.”

A month? No, Tony couldn’t do that. That would be torture.

Peter had never stripped as fast in his entire life. Not even thirty seconds later and he was kneeling on the bed, ass up and legs spread. His face was pressed into the pillow, so he couldn’t see Tony, but his Spidey senses told him exactly what his boyfriend was up to.

Tony towered over Peter and finally, Peter could feel hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks to reveal the hole in between.

“Baby, you’re so stretched. Look at that.” Tony’s finger wandered alongside his rim and made Peter moan in pleasure. “Let’s see how full we can stuff you, Peter. I think it’s only fair that you feel it after, don’t you agree?”

“Uh-huh.” Peter didn’t even understand what his boyfriend was saying anymore, but he would do what Tony wanted him to anyway.

“Alright, let’s get you trained properly, Peter. Maybe you’ll learn this time?”

Before Tony pulled back to fetch the remote, he took one last look at Peter’s straining hole. Peter couldn’t stop himself from tightening around the thick toy, eager to show his boyfriend how good he could be for him.

“Don’t tempt me, baby.”

The words were accompanied by a firm slap directly over Peter’s abused rim. The student sobbed in pleasure, pressing his ass closer to get another blow. Pain coursed through his body, an overwhelming burn, and his skin tingled deliciously. He wanted more, more of his boyfriend, everything of him.

“Mr. Stark. Please, again. Please.”

But Tony only chuckled lightly. “Do you think you’ve earned it?”

Peter wanted to scream yes, anything to get more of that delicious pain, but he knew from experience that lying would make it worse. “No, Sir.”

The pleased hum told Peter his answer had been the right one.

“That’s correct, baby, you’ve been bad and we both know it. Stop whining now, boy.”

Any protest died on Peter’s tongue and he closed his eyes, accepting what was about to come. He knew Tony wasn’t done with him and that he wouldn’t get his boyfriend's cock anytime soon. Instead, he had to make do with the awful thing inside of him, probably handmade from Tony himself. One perk of being with a billionaire engineer was Tony’s unlimited patience to build the perfect sex toy, something Peter couldn’t even order online.

“Let’s see if you can take it completely.” Tony looked at him as if he was an experiment rather than a human being and the humiliation made Peter wail in pleasure. This man would be the death of him.

He could sense that Tony fumbled with the remote, but it was still a shock when the toy expanded again. Peter could feel how stretched he was and his rim slowly started to hurt. The only reason Tony could still keep going was Peter’s spider mutation. A simple human would have caved by now.

“That’s it, sweet boy. You’re taking it so well. Just five more times and it'll be over with.”

Five more times? Suddenly, Peter knew why this was a punishment. Until now, it hadn’t been a real struggle aside from a small burn, but Peter wasn’t sure whether he could take even an inch more in his straining hole.

“I can’t, Sir. Please, that’s so much. I'm already so full.”

Tony smiled at him and pressed a kiss on his forehead, but he didn’t put the remote aside. “You know I can’t let you go after the little stunt you pulled yesterday. Either you use your safe word, or you get it over with.”

He looked at Peter expectantly, but the student remained silent. He wanted it, he just couldn’t admit it. When Peter still hadn’t protested after a couple of minutes, Tony pressed the button again. Twice.

The pain was agony. Peter wailed and squirmed on the mattress, his fingers digging into the sheets. Fuck, it burned like fire, but at the same time, it was so good. He felt full, fuller than he had ever been and Peter didn’t know anymore whether he wanted to pull the toy out or get more of the delicious stretch. But despite the pain, his cock was hard, leaking onto the mattress until the sheets were practically soaked.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Peter’s voice was nothing but a whimper, high-pitched and pathetic. He felt so raw, so exposed, and he couldn't deal with the thought of Tony being upset anymore.

“I know, boy, I know. Only three more, then everything will be forgotten, baby.”

Peter sobbed during the next two times Tony made the toy expand. An endless string of words left his lips, pleading to make it stop, begging to take it out, but not once did he safeword. He wanted this, not only because he craved to be good, but also because despite all the pain, the friction felt delicious inside of him.

When Tony pressed the button for the last time, Peter almost came. He was just laying there, his legs giving in until his body crashed into the mattress. He had never felt so full before, his little hole stretched to the brim, and every movement, even taking a breath, sent a mixture of pain and arousal through his body.

Tony stroked his back, told him what a good boy he was, that he would learn his lesson, but Peter wasn’t capable of doing anything but breathing. He was afraid Tony would pull the toy out, leaving him open and empty again, so he savored the last minutes and drifted with the pain.

His rim was very likely red and sore, pulsing from the abuse and begging to close again, but Peter didn’t worry. It wouldn’t even take the entire night until everything would heal, a huge thanks to his spider biology, so he could enjoy the feeling, knowing he would be good as new again tomorrow.

Tony gave him a few minutes to come back to himself before he pressed another button of the remote and shrunk the toy back to its normal girth again. Peter felt empty, even though he was still filled, but his hole was used to something so much bigger by now. And on top of that, he could feel the huge amount of lube dribbling out of him, soaking the sheets and running down his thighs.

It was filthy and so obscene that Peter could feel his cock twitching again, still trapped against the mattress. He wanted something bigger, he wanted the real thing and not some metal toy, even though it had been crafted by Tony himself.

Thankfully, Peter didn’t have to beg and he could feel fingers wandering over his abused hole and pulling out the toy. It hurt a tiny bit and Peter welcomed the pain, closing his eyes in pleasure.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby,” Tony announced, his tip already positioned in front of Peter’s hole. “But I don’t think I’ll let you come today.”

The words felt like denial, and Peter teared up, turning his head to look at his boyfriend. He had already gotten his punishment, hadn’t he? Why was Tony still denying him? Just the thought of being a disappointment hurt and Peter couldn’t stop the tear that ran down his face.

“Oh, baby, don’t look at me like that,” Tony cooed and pressed a kiss on his back. “Do you know what the punishment is for?”

Of course, Peter knew. Bratty boys get punished.

“I-I didn’t l-listen to you,” Peter hiccuped and fought not to press his hips back, impaling himself on his Daddy’s cock. He wanted to feel that everything was fine again. He wanted Tony’s forgiveness and he wanted to come.

“Baby, that’s only part of it. You endangered yourself, even though I had it under control. Tell me honestly that you wouldn’t do it again.”

Peter remained quiet. He couldn’t say that. He loved Tony with everything that he had, and he didn’t always think rationally during fights. Keeping his boyfriend safe was his top priority and if that meant getting scolded like a child afterward, it would be worth it.

“See, that’s exactly what I mean. I know I’m human, baby. I know you heal faster, but I have my suit. I need you to trust me, Peter. When I tell you I’ve got this, I’ve actually got it. Do you understand me?” Tony waited for him to nod before he continued. “I need your trust, baby. In the field, in our relationship, in bed. If I know you don’t take me seriously, this isn’t going to work. JARVIS analyses the fights, baby, and he can’t calculate if you don’t stick to the plan.”

Peter swallowed. He had never thought about it this way. Saving Tony had been the only thing on his mind. Suddenly, Tony’s previous lecture wasn’t a joke anymore. Peter could’ve avoided the injury and could’ve saved Tony the same anxiety and worry that Peter himself felt. Trust was everything, on the field and outside of it.

“You won’t come, today. I need you to trust me, so no one gets hurt.”

The student cried when Tony’s cock entered him, not from the burning pain, but from the emotions that wrecked his body. He had made his Sir feel like that, it was his fault Tony questioned his trust, and it was his fault the mission could have gone south.

“Baby, don’t be upset now, just let it happen. I know it’s not your intention to make me feel like this, and you’ve already received your punishment. Just be a good boy and tighten around me. You’re not perfect, I’m not perfect, but we’re here to learn together.”

A warm wave of emotions coursed through his body and Peter felt grateful to belong to this man. Tony made him a better person. He explained what Peter did wrong and helped him to become better. He didn’t know what he would do without his dom.

Peter drifted in the arousal, accepting that he wouldn’t come today. He just had to be a good boy now. Obscene noises filled the room with every single one of Tony’s thrusts, emphasized by the huge amount of lube Peter was stuffed with. He wanted Tony to come, wanted to be forgiven.

His body drifted when he finally felt his boyfriend’s cum filling his body, Peter’s cock still leaking onto the mattress. He didn’t protest as Tony moved him until he was pressed against the billionaire’s chest. It was warm, it was quiet, and Peter’s own arousal got pushed in the back of his mind.

“You did amazing, baby. I love you,” Tony whispered in his ear while he pressed kisses all over Peter’s face.

Peter could feel Tony's arms around him, holding him and creating a safe space for him to fall into. Before Peter could drift away, Tony made him drink a few sips of water.

“Luv you, sir.”

Tony pulled him even tighter against his chest, making him bask in the glow of the arc reactor.

Peter felt calm and protected, his mind pleasantly numb while he drifted into the sweet space Tony always brought him to. Even though he was sore, even though his cock was still so hard that it hurt, Peter felt satisfied and happy. Tony had forgiven him, Tony loved him, Tony was happy.

"Take a nap, sweet boy. You were amazing. I love you so much. When you wake up, I'll make you come."

He closed his eyes and snuggled closer against his boyfriend’s chest. They were perfect together and Peter would prove to Tony that he trusted him.

“I understand your concern, Tony, but you know that it wasn’t my intention to hurt you, don’t you? I trust you, I really do. I just haven’t thought about it.” Peter had to make sure Tony understood.

Tony gave him a smile and pressed a kiss on his forehead.“I know, baby. Just think twice next time, alright? I can’t even stand the thought of losing you.”

Peter smiled and nuzzled closer against Tony’s chest. He would think twice next time. His injury had been unnecessary and he could have saved them both a lot of trouble if he had just listened to Tony before.

It was quiet for a while, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Peter fell asleep while a hand stroked his hair and the beautiful deep voice whispered in his ear how perfect he was.

When he woke up again, it didn't even take a minute until he came all over Tony's hand.

#starker #starkerkink2020

51 notes · View notes

sunshinesukuna · 5 years ago

Text

ferris wheel jives and unlived lives

pairing: farmer turned soldier!iwaizumi x f!reader

warnings: war, slight gore

summary: promises are always a one way road to regret.

haikyuucreations0720 prompt: summer carnival!

words: 5.1k

i was gonna make a banner but onLINE SCHOOL. when i find the motivation i’ll make one for y’all but for now enjoy this fic in its rawest state.

big thankies to @vventure and @tsukkiscookies for beta-ing this <3333

Hands thick from a lifetime of holding shovels and axes pick up the leather-bound book on the table. Iwaizumi Hajime, 1944, is engraved in rusted metal on the cover. He flips to the calendar at the front of the page. Circled in a thick fountain pen is today’s date, with “(Y/N)” scrawled underneath.

Iwaizumi runs his finger over the lipstick stain at the bottom corner of the page. Had it been anyone else, he would have gotten a shovel from the shed and lopped their head off at the defiling of his precious journal. But not if it was you. Never for you.

He takes a deep breath before gathering all his belongings in his pocket. Not much, just his wallet with saved up money from his time serving and last month’s potato sales. Iwaizumi’s reflection glances at him from the rotary phone but he decides against calling you, lest your maid, or worse, your parents, pick up the phone. He adjusts his army cap and sweeps the dust off his shoulders before walking out the door.

You already know what time to come out anyways. Iwaizumi practically drilled it into your head the last time you saw him after you were 15 minutes late to your previous rendezvous.

Cornfields turn into suburbs and the stretch of country land morphs into that of the city. He’s never really liked the city, preferring the clean air of the long extent of his farm compared to the smog. But it’s a small price to pay to see you.

Some people give him odd looks on his way. In their defense, they do have a reason. Iwaizumi’s a scruffy farmer turned soldier riding a rickety car that groans and moans louder than the old men haggling over the price of a sack of corn Iwaizumi’s just trying to sell. He’s a black sheep among the delicate edges of the perfectly manicured lawns and pristine white paint of the government houses that all seem to wag their finger at him.

He finally stops in an empty field — he doesn’t dare park in front of your house, lest your parents see. The mayor would throw a fit if he ever saw his daughter walking around with someone the likes of Iwaizumi.

So he walks. Iwaizumi crouches by the massive oak tree that hides him from view. From his vantage point, he has clear sight of your curtained window. The glass is dented after so many pebbles flung its way. Iwaizumi saves his guilt for later and picks a small, innocuous one.

He throws another one.

The curtains crack open ever so slightly, and he catches a glimpse of an eye in between. Iwaizumi makes himself known. You open the curtains ever so widely, framing your face in between the cloth and shooting him a silly expression from atop your window. He shakes his head and beckons you to come down.

No amount of military training could have ever prepared him for all of your descents down. He can’t help but flinch every time you put your dainty foot down on a branch that looks like it’s breaking point is way overdue. Thank heavens, you make it down, your skirt slightly rustled and a leaf in your hair, but the mischievous glow in your eyes nullifying all other flaws. You hold his hands to steady yourself. They smell like iron.

"Your father?" he asks.

"Out negotiating with the city next door."

"Your mother?"

"With my father.” You snake your hands around his waist until they meet his own that are clasped behind him. Slowly, you pry them apart until you have both hands in yours. He presses a tender kiss to your knuckles. “They say there's going to be a dance after all the diplomatic issues are done with. They won't be back until midnight."

"The maid?"

"Asleep."

"You?"

"Missing you as always." Iwaizumi scoffs, but he does nothing to hide the growing smile on his face.

“Come on now, before the neighbors see us.” You grab his hand and make your way towards where you know he has his car parked, with no consideration towards anyone watching! In your defense, there isn’t anyone. Probably all in their own backyards, enjoying the luxuries that come with being part of the upper class, away from the trouble and toil of war efforts right now.

You wince a little at the loud squealing of the car opening. No one seems to have noticed, so you pull up a pastel shoe clad foot up into the dirty metal of the car.

“Where are we going today?” you ask.

“You’ll see.” He revs the engine up. You pout.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“I’ll teach you to like them, then.”

You talk for most of the ride, mostly some of the gossip you hear here and there as the mayor’s daughter. Stolen kisses between the maid and next door’s chauffeur, plans to build a new shopping center once the war’s over.

The honking tires of the city are replaced by children’s music as more and more people file into the empty lot. Some are armed with picnic baskets and blankets, others with cones of ice cream and cotton candy bigger than your head. You observe your new surroundings.

“The carnival?” you ask. Iwaizumi shrugs and holds the steering wheel closer.

“I stumbled on them when I went out. And… you said that you wanted to go, so I— (Y/N)!” Iwaizumi’s windpipe is almost crushed by the pair of arms that wrap around his neck. He doesn’t try to remove them, instead settling for a hand on the small of your back.

“I love you a thousand times!”

“H-hey,” he chokes out in his best imitation of his “army” voice. “We’re still on the road. People could see us.” You shrug and pull back anyways.

The car finally comes to a stop at a large field where other cars park. You don’t even wait for Iwaizumi to come to a full stop before you leap out the door, stumbling a little when your feet hit the warm asphalt. The air is clear and sweet in your lungs as you take in the feel of the fresh new atmosphere.

Iwaizumi’s just getting out, but you’re already walking to the other side and yanking his hand out, running as fast as you can to the opening gates. Carnival music blares through the air, mingling with people shouting at other people to come try out various games and food. So much was happening at the same time. When was the last time you went out like this without being stopped at the door by either of your parents? Second grade, probably, under the watchful eye of your nanny that tore you away from the other kids at the playground.

“Where do you want to go first?”

“Umm....” Your newly-found curiosity takes the best of you. There’s so much to see and do, and you’re not sure what should come first. From where you’re standing, you spot a large circle turning lazily in the sky. The line isn’t too long, and the view looks like it would be fantastic at this time.

“The ferris wheel, maybe?” you suggest.

“All right. You go line up and I’ll go get the tickets,” Iwaziumi says. You join the line that is steadily growing while your lover goes to buy some tickets.

Iwaizumi has just taken ten steps from you when an unwanted guest creeps up on you. Some people grumble from behind you at the appearance of this new tyrant that cuts in line so leisurely. He leans lazily on the divider right behind you and makes eyes you would rather he not make at you. The golden watch on his wrist clanks and tinkles on the metal divider. His hair is slicked back in imitation of the handsome actors on the screen, though the same can’t be said about him.

The man behind you clears his throat a few times, each getting progressively louder and louder. He really isn’t going to stop is he? What if he knows dad?

The thought crosses in your mind, and without second guessing, you turn back. Your eyes lock with him for a few seconds longer than “accidental” could pass for. Turning back without acknowledging him would be what your parent considered impolite. And you were certainly not going to attend one of your father’s weekly lectures on attitude again.

“Would you like a handkerchief?” you offered. You fished out the green cloth from the small bag you carried with you. The man accepts it with a cocky smile and a fake cough. You’re about to turn back when you feel a tap on your back.

“You know, I’m set to take over my dad’s company when he kicks the bucket. I could get a pretty girl like you all the pretty dresses and pearl necklaces you want,” he says. He slings your poor handkerchief over his finger like a dishrag.

“That’s very nice of you,” you remark politely before trying to turn away. The tap on your shoulder keeps you from breaking eye contact with him. You’re already standing a little too close to the gate for your liking, but the sudden arm on your right side inches away from your waist keeps you from going anywhere.

“What does a cute gal like you prefer? Tiffany? Swarovski? Cartier?”

“I’m quite alright, actually.” You look to the ground. Surely just buying two tickets shouldn’t take this long?

“Awh, come on. ‘Gal like you fancy a man who rides a red or white Cadillac?”

“Well, I don’t know. Men who can actually take care of their ladies instead of throwing wads of cash at them are quite popular nowadays,” you retort.

“Like me?” someone’s familiar timbre asks from behind you. You catch his reflection in the Ferris wheel door and can’t help but giggle a little bit at his sudden cockiness in the face of a new adversary.

Iwaizumi looms protectively over you, a hand on your shoulder. He’s not doing anything to the unwanted visitor in front of you, but you still enjoy his face whitening in fear. You take the chance and look up at your lover.

The sunlight hits his face perfectly like he’s the chosen child of Helios; the shadows and light bending to his will and accentuating the harsh lines of his face. You swear you can hear the man whimper.

The operator barks out for the next group of people to come inside.

“Of course!” you reply. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a ride to catch.”

The man hangs with his jaw open as he tries to form coherent words. You balance between your heels and tip toes as the operator opens the capsule doors. Like the courteous gentleman he is, Hajime offers you a calloused hand up the carriage. The capsule ascends with an unceremonious squeal.

The capsules are cramped, but one look outside has you swooning. The view of your small town, accompanied by the man’s aggravated grunt, and a warm hand squeezing your own makes you feel drunk and sober, wasted yet clear-headed at the same time. A voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“He wasn’t bothering you, right?” Iwaizumi asks.

“A little.”

His hands instinctively reach out to stroke your shoulders and hair. The intimacy of the capsule has made him more touchy. Instead of shy brushes on your forearms, he’s now melted into you, foreheads touching and breaths on your neck.

“Are you okay doll? Nothing wrong?”

“The only thing that’s wrong is how long you left me just to get some tickets for us.” You pull away. ”I missed you, you know.”

“Y-y-you did?”

Iwaizumi’s flustered. Charmingly so.

“No, I missed your friend from the army that you brought over to your house when I was there that time. What was his name? Otsubo? O’Connel? Ogawa?” Iwaizumi sighs, memories of the brown-haired delinquent he was paired up with plaguing his thoughts.

“Oikawa.” His eyes glaze over as he stares into the window behind you. You click your tongue. This airhead.

Without thinking, you press a kiss to his lips. It lingers, trapped in the confines of space, time, and your slowly waning self control. It’s nothing special, but maybe that’s what makes it all the better to remember. Who has time to remember grandiose scenes of kissing in the rain or in a fit of passion when mundane ones like these are the ones they experience the most? Quantity over quality for this one, shall we say? It’s your run-of-the-mill kiss shared by countless other actors and actresses and seen by thousands of other loyal viewers, but only truly felt by the two of you.

You finally find the will to pull back after a good 30 seconds. Residue lipstick stains his plump lips, almost camouflaging them amongst Iwaizumi’s burning crimson blush.

“Did you really think that I would miss someone other than you?” you asked.

“Well, you looked like you did.” You put a hand to his cheek.

“You’ll always be my number one, Hajime.”

The ferris wheel turns for a few more times, hushed cuddles and silent declarations of love happening inside it’s capsules, you and Iwaizumi being the main culprits. He’s alone with you, with a perfect view. What more could he want? A thought pulls on the back of his mind like an impatient child.

What is he? A mere farmer who got drafted into the war, possibly to never return. And you? The mayor’s daughter. The difference between you two is larger than that of the distance between this quaint little town in the middle of nowhere and the sea. Iwaizumi imagines his future — not necessarily bleak, but definitely filled with dirt and toil, not one he would ever want to give you.

Perhaps it’s better for you if he doesn’t come back.

You would grieve and cry for however long you pleased, but it would be the best for you. A new man would come and sweep you off your feet, like Iwaizumi once did. He would make time for you, like Iwaizumi once did. Maybe some money would be involved, and that’s where Iwaizumi can’t compete any longer. The altercation just now was proof of that.

The operator barks at the two of you to get out once your time is up. Iwaizumi hops off with ease, helping you with the strict confines of your skirt. He’s so enamoured in his thoughts, that he doesn’t realize that you’re shoving a cone of ice cream into his face.

“Hajime,” you call. Your voice, the product of years of being taught how to speak softly like the ladies of your class, a far cry from the gruff barks of the farmers where he’s from, rings in his ear like a gong.

“What are you thinking about, Iwaizumi Hajime?”

“Nothing,” he says stoically. Even though you see the postman more than you see Iwaizumi in person, you see through your lover in an instant.

“Let me guess.... You’re thinking about....” You tap your finger on your lips in mock thinking. “Me! You’re thinking about me! Aren’t you?”

“What makes you think that?” he asks, but the flush on his face is definitely not from the carnival lights.

“You’re staring at my neck like I’m the one who stole those tomatoes from your garden bed last night,” you quip. Iwaizumi does nothing except pinch your cheek, to which you respond with a squeal and a nuzzle on his neck. Before you know it, there are fingers dancing on your midriff and torso, tickling the living daylights out of you.

“Stop, Hajime!” you plead relentlessly, but he has no mercy on you. Like a good soldier, he leaves no place unchecked. Your arms, your neck, your ribs. Iwaizumi takes no prisoners. By the time he does manage to pull away, you’re panting as you lean on him.

“You could have made me spill my ice cream!” you complain as you hand one to Iwaizumi. The smile on his face is wiped away by a look of uncertainty.

“You should’ve let me pay for that, (Y/N),” he says quietly.

“Oh, please.” Your voice drops to a quiet hush as well, the smile shrinking away from your face until it’s only visible to the Iwaizumi and the sky.

“It’s my treat for you. For taking me here.”

The both of you eat your ice cream in silence. The only thing that could connect the two of you as a couple was a small patch of skin where your smaller hand touched his elbow, strong and hard from years of both farming and training.

He really should count his blessings someday. He’s alive, breathing, and healthy, for one. Iwaizumi isn’t rich, not as rich as you anyways, but he has a roof over his head and enough to make a meal for himself at least twice a day. The heavens could have stopped there, but no. They decided to send down an angel straight from their ranks to him. One with a glowing smile he would pay millions more to see just for another second,

Yeah, right, find a new husband. Hell would freeze over before Iwaizumi would ever allow that to happen.

But, like most things in his life, it’s shattered to pieces.

Literally.

The sweet summer air turns into clouds of smoke at the pull of a trigger. Iwaizumi looks up. From the clouds, fall large blocks of metal that he recognizes all too well as rocket artillery. It hangs in the air for a hot minute, like a ballerina staying in the air just before she lands from her jump. Everyone holds their breath as the first shell makes its descent.

Sirens finally break the silence. Recorded laughter melts into shrill screaming as people rush to take cover. Civilians and members of the military alike take off to who knows where — parents seeking their children, civilian lovers holding on tight, a group of friends breaking apart because two of them bear a soldier’s cap a little too proudly.

Someone screams from the other side

“A civilian attack?”

“Women and children to safety! At once!”

“Soldiers, report to the north gate at once!

And it finally happens. A symphony of thundering cracks that shakes the ground under your very feet like a seesaw. The trills and hums of falling buildings and structures soon join it, bringing an eerie soundtrack to the scene of fire and blazes that unfold before your eyes. But the star soloist in the show is perhaps the screaming. It doesn’t discriminate. Everyone screams. Old men trying to survive another five years doing so hoarsely as the hang on to what’s left of the burnt wick that they call life. Teen girls doing so, trying to huddle together with their friends under what they think is a safe spot. It’s deafening.

A pack of soldiers run past you, some carrying first-aid kits and stretchers. Iwaizumi gives them a knowing glance and a nod, before finally looking to you.

You’re the mayor’s daughter. Of all people in this town your age, you know best that during times like these, duty comes first. But what is duty when the people left to carry it out are slaves to love?

“Hajime!” you choke out. You don’t know whether the iron grip on his wrist is to keep him from going or to keep him from staying any longer with you. But you keep holding him anyways.

“Go with them,” he says. His voice is calm and steady, interpolated by the crackling of fires and the occasional thundering of what must be more bombs coming from the air.

“You—”

“I’ll meet up with you later. At your front door, next time.”

His hands moved to cup your face. Fire and explosions are reflected in the tears that start to roll down your face. Sticky residue ice cream lingers on your hand, some of it getting caught in your face as you wipe down the tears that flow so ungracefully down the side of your face.

“At my front door?” you ask.

The front door with the bronze plaque, serving as the golden gate for people of your class, but a barbed fence to those of Iwaizumi’s. The front door with a hole near the doorknob that your father never noticed, from when Iwaziumi used to sneak letters he wrote in school for you seven years ago. Maybe you would share a kiss, only to scurry back in the blueberry bushes behind your house because you saw the glint of your mother’s car in the driveway? Or maybe share a lazy nap in the sun because your father had guests from halfway around the world and the nanny was sick, and the circumstances and situation all just perfect.

Too perfect.

“Of course. If your father says anything about us, I’ll make him eat his own words.” Something bites at the back of his throat, but Iwaizumi coughs it back under the guise of ash. The last thing he needed or wanted was you getting scared.

“That’s a promise?” you ask.

“We don’t make promises in this household, doll.”

You want to say something, but another bang cuts you off, followed closely another crowd of soldiers directing people off to the side. Iwaizumi takes a long whiff of your perfume— one nicked from your mother’s shelves, yet worn countless times. You smell good.

Iwaizumi gives you a kiss on your forehead — a rather mundane one — before joining the crowd of marching soldiers.

Everything is piercing.

There’s something about the smell that invades his nose that makes him want to retch, yet fall asleep at the same time. It reminds him of the rubbing alcohol that they give the new trainee that bleeds first during hand-to-hand back at his base. Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose instinctively, but finds that the longer he smells it, the clearer his head becomes.

And the lights are just too bright. They’re a blinding white, unlike the yellow lighting he’s accustomed to. The white tiles and white sheets that wrap around him securely make it even worse. It reminds him of the showers back at boot camp, where blood and other bodily fluids contrasted proudly with the white tiles. He blinks several times as he gets his eyes to adjust to the new lighting.

A machine whirrs and buzzes behind him. Iwaizumi has never prided himself on knowing lots about military technology, but in all his years training at the military, he’s fairly sure he’s never seen anything like this before. From where he’s laying down, he makes out a valve connected to his fingers.

“Mr. Iwaizumi,” someone asks. He makes out a silhouette leaning over him. Something pounds in his heart as he hopes that it’s you that’s come to see him, but an adjustment of the light quickly kills all of them. A woman with red lipstick and dressed like a nurse from the neighborhood hospital helps him up.

“Where am I?” he manages to croak out.

“You’re at the hospital. There was an attack and you were ushered to safety when—”

It’s like someone turned a light switch in him. One minute he’s drowsy and fatigued, the next he’s up and alert, ready to pounce at anyone. Iwaizumi sits up straight, eager to hear this new information that is to be delivered.

“The others?” he asks.

“They…” The nurse trails off. She looks down apologetically, the blinding lights reflecting off the sheen of sweat on her hands. Her figure shrinks a bit. The silence is enough to fill in the blanks.

“You left the others out there to die?”

“Sir, we tried—”

The ground is cold and hard on his bare feet. Iwaizumi’s shoulders sag with the feelings of ten sacks of wheat on his shoulders. He’s getting very good at ignoring, what with people screaming around him and sirens that block out any other form of conscious thought. All he knows, hears, and wants is to run.

So he does.

He makes it down an uncountable amount of flights of stairs, until his knees ache and his calves are on fire. The metal is cold, hard, and unforgiving. The light of the tunnel keeps on dipping lower and lower until he finally drops down onto the floor. It seems to be deserted. Iwaizumi puts his hands on his knees and breathes like the drill sergeant instructed him back at camp. It seems that he won’t have much time to rest, though.

“Rouge patient!” someone barks from the other side of the room.

Iwaizumi curses under his breath. Every step he takes is a spike up his thigh. But he runs. He runs and runs and runs until he finally sees a glass door at the end of it all. The door seems to be protected by a set of numbers, like those on a calculator sitting next to it. Footsteps thunder behind him and Iwaizumi can hear people opening their office doors in hopes of intercepting him, only to have the rogue patient run past them. It’s now or never.

The door squeals as Iwaizumi puts all his body weight into the front part of his body. There’s a change in the air. The previously dingy atmosphere from inside the building is now replaced with a fresh breeze. Iwaizumi can’t stop to admire the flowers though. Without a moment’s thought, he rushes through the streets, weaving blindly through vehicles until he spots a dim alley.

It’s still the light of day, but this alley was unoccupied. Iwaizumi drops to his knees a second time, trying to put the wind back in his chest. Breathing seems to do good, so he does so shallowly until his lungs are willing to take in more oxygen at a time. No injuries, except the burning in his feet from running on bare pavement across the city.

Iwaizumi finally opens his eyes for the first time. Where was he now? DId he land at the car repair shop near your house? No, it doesn’t smell like grease and oil. The clothing factory? No, there’s no smog in the clear, blue skies above. Iwaizumi retraces his steps around the city. He closes his eyes again, visualizing his footsteps.

The smell of cotton candy drowns him in his thoughts.

There must be a carnival going on.

But instead of rolling hills and low houses, giant blocks of stone and metal crane their necks to the sky, reaching aimlessly for the sun and clouds that hang over their heads so tantalizingly. Great pictures hang suspended over the buildings, depicting beautiful people with clothes that would make any person from Iwaizumi’s part of town gasp. He wonders how he didn’t notice them during all his running before. In his defense, running from people who would do questionable things to you impairs your peripheral vision for an unknown period of time.

Something flashes out of the corner of his eye. His hands reach up to pat his waist for the revolver on his waist, but there’s nothing there. A closer look at the flashing colours reveals themselves to be… a Ferris wheel?

A simple road leads up to the ferris wheel. Street vendors and pedestrians alike bustle through the streets, enjoying the carnival. Iwaizumi can’t bring himself to care about them. The only thing on his mind right now is where you are.

His mind is spinning so quickly right now that he doesn’t notice the lack of planes the air, or people laughing and chatting instead of screaming for their lives in the streets. Everything rings in his ears the same as they did that night.

Some of the people he shoves through give him dirty looks. And he’s in luck too, not far down the street is the back of a familiar head of hair. A closer look reveals a blue bow, the same blue bow he recognizes as the one he bought you for your birthday. You had shoved his gift away and told him that the money would be better off feeding the cattle, but he had made sure that it found a snug home in your hair.

He doesn’t remember you wearing it on the car ride earlier.

There’s a cone of ice cream in your hand— not melting on the ground surrounded by ash. You blissfully lick the cone while looking at the rides whizzing above.

“(L/N)! Why haven’t you gone with the others?” Iwaizumi asks frantically. You turn your head back so casually Iwaizumi wants to yank you away. If it was any other person, he would have wanted to disappear right then and there.

But it’s you. Same eyes that widen in confusion when you look at him. Same nose that wrinkles in disgust when you see his bare feet on the concrete. Same lips that part ever so slightly at his appearance.

“I’m… sorry?” you ask.

“There was an aerial strike, and everyone had to go to safety! Why weren’t you with them? I was worried sick for you the whole time and you stroll through the streets like everything’s fine and dandy?”

People are starting to stare even harder now. Some people shuffle closer to you in case the worst situation comes to light.

“I think you have the wrong person, sir,” you say calmly.

“Wrong person? Now is not the time for joking, (L/N) (Y/N)!”

Iwaizumi wants to slap the eyebrows that are furrowing too slowly for his liking off your face, he just wants you to hurry up so the both of you can get to safety and meet at your front door like he promised but—

“(L/N) (Y/N)?”

“Who else would you be?” He must look like a madman now, screeching while other pedestrians give him odd looks. Someone seems to call the police on him, but the screeching of tires behind him is enough to dispel all sudden danger.

Black cars surround the small road, visages of baffled pedestrians and vendors reflected in their tinted windows. The drivers don’t seem to mind them, some opening the doors to their black suit clad passengers, all around his height and build. Iwaizumi feels a hand creeping up on his back, but he shakes it off and takes a long step to you.

“(L/N) (Y/N) is my grandmother’s name, sir.”

yes this is inspired by captain america. copyright don’t come for me!!!!!

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