#one is definitely not a ...robot just a normal robot nothing else in t here

[tothesolarium]

For the Hound, his Birth name is III-V2CE and Then for his Role: Kolasis ( κόλασις - Kol'-as-is) - Correction : Chastisement, Torment, Punishment, and Deprivation

Now...when do you learn this name? potentially... chapter 17 lol. "mon-narc" and "chaffy ass" are more common for the first chunk of the story

[ficsbyabby]

A Rough Morning

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: Periods, injury mention, a load of badly written fluff

Words: 861

a/n: This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done. It's been a rough month, filled with procedures, sickness, and a car accident. All I wanted when on my period, was someone to cuddle with. And thus, this was born. It is not good, but maybe it'll be comforting to someone else.

:readmore:

Dividers from @firefly-in-darkness

There was nothing worse than waking up in a cold bed alone. At least, that was how you felt today. You woke up without Steve in your bed and all the man did was leave a note. You had asked him time and time again to wake you up when he had to go on missions late at night, but he never listened. He insisted that you looked so peaceful sleeping. Normally this wouldn't bother you (for longer than a few minutes, that is) but this wasn't a normal day.

It was shark week, hell week, Aunt Flo's visit. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was awful and all you wanted was to cuddle up to Steve. The serum increased his metabolism, which meant that he ran hot. So when he was there, he was your own personal heating pad. But alas, Steve was not here, leaving you to find a real heating pad, and maybe some chocolate.

Groaning as a cramp ripped through your lower abdomen, you rolled out of bed. Heading into the bathroom, you turned on the shower, hot. After a solid half an hour sitting under the warm water (and mentally reminding yourself to thank Tony for the amazing shower you had), you got out and set about getting a pad and your comfiest jammies, which happened to be Steve's stolen t-shirt and your sweatpants.

Content for the moment, you ventured out of your room and into the kitchen. There, you retrieved a large mug of hot chocolate, securely contained in your Captain America mug that you only had to bother Steve, and a heating pad before getting comfortable on the couch, intending to watch a load of terrible rom-coms.

Settling down, you turned on the tv. The news channel appeared. Across the screen, images showing an intense fight were displayed. You could see Steve get hit by some weird robot. He got up again, but you could see blood running down your face.

On a normal day, while you wouldn't be happy about seeing Steve hurt, you knew he'd be fine.

But today, your hormones caused your emotions to run high. You were already tense from Steve not being there to cuddle with, an injury just sent you over the edge. Tears started streaming down your face, and you missed the note at the top of the screen that read "previously recorded."

Shutting the tv off to prevent further anxiety, you curled up on the couch, stress eating a load of chocolate, and waited for Steve to return. At some point, you fell back asleep.

After a long debrief and a quick shower to get rid of the blood on his face. Steve was on the way back to their rooms. He knew y/n wouldn't be happy with him for leaving without telling her, but it was 2 o'clock in the morning! While that was a good enough reason for him, it definitely would not be for her.

So, to make up for it, he had a box of her favorite beignets. Y/n always wanted them, but she complained that they had too many calories and that they would add too many pounds to her. Steve always disagreed, she was perfect, and always would be, but she was serious.

Though, every once in a while, Steve would buy a box as a surprise for her. Once they were in their rooms, Y/n couldn't resist (and it didn't hurt that Steve liked them too.)

Opening the door with one hand, while trying to balance the box in the other, he stepped in. It was dead quiet, which was odd, usually, Y/n would be awake by now, working on a project for her job, or going about her daily routine.

Steve set the box on the kitchen counter, near the entrance to their rooms and walked in further. Quickly, he found Y/n asleep on the couch, tear tracks staining her face.

Concern immediately rose in Steve, Y/n wasn't a crier, something was wrong. Stepping closer, he saw the heating pad on her stomach, the light blinking to indicate it had been on too long. There was a box of chocolate truffles next to her too.

"Crap."

He quickly put together that it was that time of the month. He always liked to be there for Y/n, her cycle was rough on her. And if he couldn't be there, he at least liked to warn her.

Gently, he picked her up and settled back down. In her sleep, Y/n nestled closer to him, the warmth comforting. Settling his hand on her lower stomach, Steve allowed sleep to overtake him too.

Waking up, you felt much better. You were warm, and your cramps weren't nearly as bad as they had been that morning.

Blinking your eyes as you adjusted to the brightness of the sun streaming in, you realized you were on Steve.

You shifted a bit, looking at his face where you had seen the blood earlier. Now, there was barely a scratch, his healing abilities at work. Content with Steve back with you, you closed your eyes again and allowed a much more calm sleep to overtake you.

[thehannibalextendeduniverse]

Adam (2009)

Looking at this now I'm realising how much I wrote on this movie. Mostly because 1. Adam 2. Autism. Also, mild spoilers?

I'm actually so excited to watch this like yes, give me my precious autistic boy. I've read a few reviews on this already so I'm quite intrigued as to how this film will come off to me, being an autistic person myself (if you couldn't tell from the obsessive special interest in Hannibal + anything Hugh/Mads). I think I will be drawing a lot of comparisons to my own experiences with autism. 

The food on the plate being separated is very valid, although the American way of eating tines up has always confused me. I get Adam is American though. Also I fear having tons of the same thing and nothing else because everything is a sensory issue and there's like 5 foods I eat is also accurate. Although I'm more likely to forget to stock up on my food and buy when I run out than have that many in a cupboard at once.

The standing awkwardly and not knowing how to hold your hands is very real.

I get sensory issues from sleeping with a t-shirt/trousers because everything is just way more noticeable when it's dark and quiet and you're trying to fall asleep yk? I do wonder if others have the same problem in that.

The oversharing and explaining topics you know tons about.

I mean they gave Adam kinda stereotypical autism? The guy's good at robots. I think media always tends to translate it to the super nerdy stuff like maths and CS and all that when there's so much you could be interested in. Not everyone has the 'smart' autism, and not everyone's interests are singular or stereotypically science-y. Like I have a friend who's special interest is neuroscience, a couple who love dnd (including me), one who's obsessed with the Magnus Archives and secret codes, and two who very much fit that TV stereotype (both are CS/physics/maths geeks and one loves planes and trains). Personally my autism loves Merlin and Hannibal and Hugh/Mads, and also bones and coins. If you couldn't tell. Also am I taking this opportunity to overshare? Yes this is my blog I can put whatever shit I want on here. I fear the majority of my friends are autistic. Also there's an overlap with my autistic friends and friends who use ao3, I think we all need that hit of fanmade content once the canon media has been wrung dry lol.

OKAY THE SPACE SUIT VALID THAT'S COOL AF. I take it back Adam has multiple interests and not just one singular thing yay for less-stereotypical autistic rep in media ig!

...ngl memorising a video from an interest and repeating it/speaking along with it is an experience I have had many a time.

He's not weird Beth he's just sharing his special interest that's like the equivalent of being nice and sociable.

The missing of social cues lol. Absolutely normal behaviour. I would have tried to balance out the touch if someone's shopping knocked against me though. Anyone else know what I mean?

Oh boy here comes the mild ableism from the other characters... like i'm sorry wdym "...your condition" he can function perfectly fine and do the work having autism doesn't make you a bloody child.

change bad, change stressful, poor adam :(

man just watching this and adam get stressed out is making me stressed.

yeah i know this was made in 2009 and that's why they're calling it aspergers, but fuck Hans Asperger we hate him for being a Nazi. I mean my report still say aspergers on it but like, I don't want no association with him please and thank you.

For a neurotypical person (presumably, from what I've seen/heard there's never been anything abt him being neurodiverse, also I just don't get The Vibe from him, I trust my radar) Hugh Dancy does a pretty darn good job of portraying autism. I think some of the behaviours, when compared to my own experience, are a bit more exaggerated(?) but everyone's experiences on the spectrum are different and I've definitely observed them in other autistic friends + I presume they made some a bit more obviously stereotypically 'autistic' to make it more digestible for film. I could definitely understand/read Adam and it didn't feel like a neurotypical 'faking' or pretending to be autistic, so Hugh did a damn good job.

God the struggle to explain yourself and people not understanding and continuing to pressure you which just makes everything more stressful and worse is so real...

Do I hate how some of the other characters treat Adam? Yes, absolutely. "You're not ten years old" etc. treating him with kiddy gloves, explaining things for him, "someone with your condition" —  it's annoying, but it is realistic and something I've definitely experienced in the past.

Aside from Hugh's portrayal, the writing of Adam's lines is pretty spot on in responses to other people, in not understanding social cues, talking at inappropriate times, oversharing special interests, and so on.

I love the space suit and that was so random to be dangling outside cleaning windows it was pretty funny.

Do other autistics struggle with smiling? it always feels so forced for me and I hate it. Facial expressions I mostly learnt from reading and descriptions and I do still struggle to pick the appropriate one sometimes although I've gotten better with time. Anyway this is leading up to say Hugh's smile is very pretty and Adam is so precious but also I think if I tried to smile that wide it would be very uncomfortable and annoy me.

"Did he do it" would be my response too, Adam, he's so real for asking that.

Okay Beth is pissing me off don't try to control what Adam eats he knows what he can stand and likes leave him aloneee. ykw she ordered him mac and cheese and got him out of the Bad Social Situation maybe she's okay.

Okay nvm I take that back that book is uhhhhh... ig she's...trying at least? Idk man if I got given that I'd feel quite uncomfortable, stuff like that seems to normally (in my experience) not be the best? It just kinda infantilises further and makes you feel bad/different for having autism.

Random facts let's go! Appreciate Adam's knowledge you asshole >:( (I do not like Beth's dad). Damn I thought he was being nice for a second when he inquired about more info but he was joking, I was too autistic to pick up on that ig?

That situation would make me so confused Adam I relate so hard.

Also Beth pissed me off with that hand grabbing like...no. Personally I wouldn't even be fine with my gf doing that out of nowhere? But I also have contamination OCD so my experience with people touching me is...less than good so idk.

Also like she just did not know how to deal with Adam's meltdowns, she hadn't done any research.

All I can think is that that would be a sensory nightmare.

yk sometimes I do wanna just smash shit when I'm frustrated and overwhelmed and it is a strain to not do it (tbf I have seen other autistic people react similarly to such situations) so I can't really blame Adam for actually doing it. Like, jeez, 1. surprises bad, 2. lack of communication and trust, 3. she lied to him, 4. arranging stuff behind his back and treating him like a child — blowing up especially after he's had such a stressful day with the interview and phone call with her mum is a valid reaction tbh. I get it. Beth is manipulative.

She calls him a child because she went into their relationship with a lacking understanding of autism and the expectation that he needs coddling and that he is a child. Fuck you, Beth.

Harlan is actually decent though. Go him.

No. Adam. You deserve so much better than Beth. And Beth doesn't know how to understand you. Not good. Please do not get back together I beg you.

I don't think Beth is necessarily a bad person, I just think she isn't educated about autism and definitely treats Adam in an uncomfortable way. However I am also trying to see it from a neurotypical pov and I know that sometimes if you aren't used to people with autism who struggle with dealing with situations like Adam has then it can be straining — it isn't uncalled for for Beth to react like that. But she could definitely have made a better effort with Adam. She conveys that she wants to 'fix' Adam like his autism is something wrong with him, which is clearly just...no. I'm glad that didn't happen and they split instead, because that would have been a terrible route to take.

It is clear Adam is trying and does genuinely care about Beth, he just struggles to explain it to her (I've been there, words are hard) and she leaves because he says the wrong thing. That said, Beth clearly did not understand Adam properly and their relationship would have likely further devolved if they had continued on due to that, so I see it as a good thing that they split and Adam got to go and live his dream talking about stars.

I do think Adam did learn from his experiences with Beth and his struggles with social situations seem to be exacerbated because he's been coddled his whole life — I mean he still lived with his father who got him his job, I don't think Adam knew how to act because he was so isolated. I feel that's a common problem with kids diagnosed young — the parents make assumptions and the kiddy gloves never come off. Hell, I was diagnosed in my mid-teens and my mother told the entire extended family who started treating me like I was half my age, apologised because they "didn't know I was autistic" in like a really demeaning way, and refused to take me seriously. It made things harder. Being treated like a kid just means you'll continue acting like one because you don't know how else to act. Treating autistic people like they're five is not the way to go. Just because we see the world in a different way and may understand some situations differently doesn't mean (for a large majority) that we can't understand things nor that we're stuck as children. I mean Adam himself makes mention to this at points when Beth makes assumptions about him not understanding certain things, correcting her (which is one thing this movie does which is good that I haven't really elsewhere).

Most unrealistic thing is that Adam wears collared shirts, scratchy jumpers, and trainers like all the time (unless he's going to bed) even when he's just at home and doesn't instantly change into comfy hoodies and joggers to escape the sensory hell of Outdoors Clothes. Although I think the trainers/shoes in the house is an American thing? The toes being squished together though...

Adam is better autism rep than a lot of the other ones out there in media (Sheldon Cooper I'm looking at you). Yes it is slightly stereotypical (and the bar is on the floor) but it isn't bad/harmful stereotypes. I relate to him, I understand his struggles, he's realistic. Could it have been better? Yes, absolutely. But it wasn't bad, I liked it.

For what it is, and especially considering it was released a decade and a half ago, Adam is pretty good. As a character, I fear he is now my all time favourite comfort character — like I just relate so much to him as a person + hugh dancy gives me insane gender envy like, Adam? I love this man. There wasn't really any point in this film where I thought that something they portrayed about autism (through Adam) was unrealistic or perpetuating negative stereotypes. However, the other characters definitely do, and I think if Beth had remained with Adam it would send a completely different and negative message about how to interact with people with autism and maybe perpetuate bad stereotypes.

But ykw, it does portray a kinda realistic (although irritating) experience being autistic. People don't always know how to react and unfortunately negative stereotyping (fucking Autism Speaks) have done a lot of harm to the community that even in 2025 there are a lot of people who don't understand autism or just make assumptions which aren't true. Hell, I've has specialised disability advisors give utterly terrible advice/opinions on autism. You can't truly understand it if you don't have it, and even then everyone's experience is unique and different.

I don't believe this movie was written by an autistic person but they did a good job. I am glad they didn't really paint Beth as a heroine character who gets back together with Adam and 'takes care' of him and his autism because that would have been terrible. I like that Adam got his happy ending at the observatory. Dream job for him, truly.

Not my favourite movie ever but definitely my new favourite character.

[mischiefsemimanaged]

A Rough Morning

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Warnings: Periods, injury mention, a load of badly written fluff

Words: 861

a/n: This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever done. It's been a rough month, filled with procedures, sickness, and a car accident. All I wanted when on my period, was someone to cuddle with. And thus, this was born. It is not good, but maybe it'll be comforting to someone else.

:readmore:

Dividers from @firefly-in-darkness

There was nothing worse than waking up in a cold bed alone. At least, that was how you felt today. You woke up without Steve in your bed and all the man did was leave a note. You had asked him time and time again to wake you up when he had to go on missions late at night, but he never listened. He insisted that you looked so peaceful sleeping. Normally this wouldn't bother you (for longer than a few minutes, that is) but this wasn't a normal day.

It was shark week, hell week, Aunt Flo's visit. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was awful and all you wanted was to cuddle up to Steve. The serum increased his metabolism, which meant that he ran hot. So when he was there, he was your own personal heating pad. But alas, Steve was not here, leaving you to find a real heating pad, and maybe some chocolate.

Groaning as a cramp ripped through your lower abdomen, you rolled out of bed. Heading into the bathroom, you turned on the shower, hot. After a solid half an hour sitting under the warm water (and mentally reminding yourself to thank Tony for the amazing shower you had), you got out and set about getting a pad and your comfiest jammies, which happened to be Steve's stolen t-shirt and your sweatpants.

Content for the moment, you ventured out of your room and into the kitchen. There, you retrieved a large mug of hot chocolate, securely contained in your Captain America mug that you only had to bother Steve, and a heating pad before getting comfortable on the couch, intending to watch a load of terrible rom-coms.

Settling down, you turned on the tv. The news channel appeared. Across the screen, images showing an intense fight were displayed. You could see Steve get hit by some weird robot. He got up again, but you could see blood running down your face.

On a normal day, while you wouldn't be happy about seeing Steve hurt, you knew he'd be fine.

But today, your hormones caused your emotions to run high. You were already tense from Steve not being there to cuddle with, an injury just sent you over the edge. Tears started streaming down your face, and you missed the note at the top of the screen that read "previously recorded."

Shutting the tv off to prevent further anxiety, you curled up on the couch, stress eating a load of chocolate, and waited for Steve to return. At some point, you fell back asleep.

After a long debrief and a quick shower to get rid of the blood on his face. Steve was on the way back to their rooms. He knew y/n wouldn't be happy with him for leaving without telling her, but it was 2 o'clock in the morning! While that was a good enough reason for him, it definitely would not be for her.

So, to make up for it, he had a box of her favorite beignets. Y/n always wanted them, but she complained that they had too many calories and that they would add too many pounds to her. Steve always disagreed, she was perfect, and always would be, but she was serious.

Though, every once in a while, Steve would buy a box as a surprise for her. Once they were in their rooms, Y/n couldn't resist (and it didn't hurt that Steve liked them too.)

Opening the door with one hand, while trying to balance the box in the other, he stepped in. It was dead quiet, which was odd, usually, Y/n would be awake by now, working on a project for her job, or going about her daily routine.

Steve set the box on the kitchen counter, near the entrance to their rooms and walked in further. Quickly, he found Y/n asleep on the couch, tear tracks staining her face.

Concern immediately rose in Steve, Y/n wasn't a crier, something was wrong. Stepping closer, he saw the heating pad on her stomach, the light blinking to indicate it had been on too long. There was a box of chocolate truffles next to her too.

"Crap."

He quickly put together that it was that time of the month. He always liked to be there for Y/n, her cycle was rough on her. And if he couldn't be there, he at least liked to warn her.

Gently, he picked her up and settled back down. In her sleep, Y/n nestled closer to him, the warmth comforting. Settling his hand on her lower stomach, Steve allowed sleep to overtake him too.

Waking up, you felt much better. You were warm, and your cramps weren't nearly as bad as they had been that morning.

Blinking your eyes as you adjusted to the brightness of the sun streaming in, you realized you were on Steve.

You shifted a bit, looking at his face where you had seen the blood earlier. Now, there was barely a scratch, his healing abilities at work. Content with Steve back with you, you closed your eyes again and allowed a much more calm sleep to overtake you.

[fruitydiaz-archived]

my darkest nights

A post 5.01 sort of speculation fic

Eddie makes it back home after the shift from hell and is grateful that he escaped Buck's persistent questioning - until a nightmare wakes him up and Buck shows up at his front door anyways. Because of course he does.

2,877 words

AO3 link

Eddie’s never been more grateful to be so exhausted after a shift. He’s never found himself standing in the locker room, staring at the slope of Buck’s slumped shoulders, the weight of his head pulling him down, and feeling grateful for it. He slips out of the locker rooms and to his truck without anyone noticing—everyone worn too close to the bone to focus on anything other than stripping off their uniforms and leaving for their respective homes.

What was supposed to be a 12-hour shift had turned into a 24-hour shift that dragged on, the ransomware attack sending first responders all over the city, wild goose chase after wild goose chase after literal wild goose chase. All the while Buck’s eyes rarely left Eddie. Normally, Eddie felt comforted by Buck’s constant presence, the way his eyes never strayed too far from him, especially when he found himself retreating into his head too much on calls.

But ever since the hospital—ever since running into Dr. Salazar—Buck’s eyes on him weren’t gentle and reassuring, equal parts check in with me and I’m checking in with you. They were worried and persistent and they made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up.

By the time the power had been restored and the team had been cut loose, even Buck was too tired to chase Eddie down.

For the most part, Eddie is grateful, as he pulls into his driveway at 9 am, walking into his house and finding it quiet and empty. He’s thankful that he decided to leave Christopher with Pepa the day before, not knowing that his half shift would turn into a full shift from hell. For a moment he considers stopping in the kitchen to clear out the fridge of all the food that was definitely spoiled during the city-wide blackout, but his body screams for his bed and he listens.

He’s grateful when he pulls the curtains shut, switches off all the lights, and slips under the covers.

He’s grateful. Until the darkness settles around him again, until the sheets wrap themselves too tight around his body, until his eyes fly open and he finds himself searching frantically through the dark for a pair of wide, equally startled blue eyes.

He’s grateful until he realizes that he’s alone.

It’s not a panic attack that wakes him up—because Eddie doesn’t panic—but it takes him 10 minutes to get his heart rate back down. This sleep pattern is becoming painfully familiar to him, like finding an old t-shirt in the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn in 5 or so years, the material tight and constricting around his shoulders and chest. It’s 11:45 in the morning and he knows that trying to fall back asleep is useless, so he takes a quick shower and decides to clean out the fridge anyways.

When there’s a knock on his front door 30 minutes later, Eddie thinks he really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he still is when he pulls open the door and finds Buck standing in front of him, curls fresh and wet against his forehead, the circles under his eyes no less prominent than they were three hours ago. The spike of annoyance is almost immediate because Eddie knows that Buck got just about as much sleep as he did—if not less—and it was Eddie’s fault.

“Buck,” He starts to say, ready to wave him off again, turn him around on his porch and shove him back towards his jeep.

“I—is Christopher here?” Buck cuts him off, eyes darting over his shoulder. Eddie presses his lips together and shakes his head gently.

“He’s with Pepa,” He starts again but this time it’s Buck’s body that cuts him off, shoving his shoulder between Eddie and the doorway, pushing his way into Eddie’s house before he’s even had the opportunity to protest.

“What the hell is going on, Eddie?” Buck’s long legs make easy work of the distance between Eddie’s doorway to his kitchen and Eddie follows right on his heels, helpless and frustrated.

“Nothing’s going on, Buck. I told you to drop it.”

“Well I can’t, Eddie,” Buck says emphatically, spinning around and leaning back against Eddie’s counter. He pauses for a moment, wide eyes searching Eddie’s face before they drop to the floor. His fingers fumble with the hem of his sweatshirt and Eddie’s struck by how small he looks, shoulders hunched, bent inward.

He knows Buck pushes because he cares. Hell, if it were the other way around and Eddie had found out Buck had been to see a cardiologist and didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t have ever let them leave the hospital without finding out why. But Buck can’t know about this—whatever it is. Because Buck won’t drop it even after he finds out and all Eddie wants to do is move forward. He doesn’t get why no one else understands that.

“It wasn’t anything serious, Buck,” He tries again, but the way Buck stares back at him makes him feel like his body’s made of glass.

“Because if it was you would tell me?”

Eddie swallows. He holds Buck’s gaze and nods, a jerky aborted movement, before averting his eyes.

“Good, because four months ago you got shot.” Eddie ignores the way his entire body tenses as Buck continues. “And then you sat in the hospital room and told me that if anything ever happened to you I would be Christopher’s legal guardian.”

He doesn’t say anything and when he looks up again Buck has taken a step closer. He hovers over Eddie slightly, eyes soft and imploring.

“If something happens to you, I need to know. I want to know.”

“It was—it wasn’t a heart attack,” Eddie says quietly.

“But you thought it was.”

“The doctor said…they think it was a panic attack.” Eddie’s stomach twists at the gentle recognition that crosses Buck’s face. He’s not surprised in the slightest. Eddie can picture him easily, back at his loft, sitting on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, searching google for an explanation as to why Eddie would think he was having a heart attack if he wasn’t.

Realistically, Buck probably knew what was up while they were still in the hospital. But if Eddie can just pretend for a little longer—

“You don’t agree with them,” Buck says eventually and Eddie feels heat crawl up the back of his neck.

“I don’t panic,” He says as a reflex, the words familiar, having taken up residency on the tip of his tongue over the last couple of days. But the moment they’re out in the air, the moment he says them to Buck, he knows he’s lost the battle.

“Everybody panics.”

“I don’t.”

“Eddie, you got shot—”

“Why does everyone want to talk about that?” Eddie can’t keep the frustration from bleeding out into his words, not even through his gritted teeth. “I lived. I lived and he...he’s dead. I’ve moved on, why can’t everyone else?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide and frantic as he looks at Buck, pleading, and for a second Buck gets a glimpse at Eddie as a child. He gets a glimpse at Eddie before he closed himself off, before he was taught to build up walls around his heart, before he learned to shove every emotion down further and further until the only thing left was his ability to move forward. Before he learned how to control.

He reaches his hand out, settling it firmly on Eddie’s shoulder, thumb skipping over the pulse point in his neck.

“Eddie, it happened. Just because you don’t talk about it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I—I watched you almost die, Eds.”

“But I didn’t,” Eddie repeats, voice small.

“And I’m really fucking glad you didn’t,” Buck agrees on an exhale. “I get that you want to move on but until you actually talk about what happened, you’re not going to be able to.”

Buck hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching Eddie’s face. Eddie stares back at him and eventually, Buck sucks in his bottom lip and drops his hand from Eddie’s shoulder. He steps back against the counter, looking down at his hands.

“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot. You’ve seen things that most people don’t even think to worry about. It all adds up, you know?”

“But I’m used to it—it’s not the first time I’ve almost died,” Eddie says and Buck does his best not to flinch, the way he always does when Eddie casually mentions his own mortality, the number of times he’s stared death in the face only to turn his back on it and fight in the opposite direction. He takes a deep breath and pushes back from the counter, turning and slowly making his way towards Eddie’s kitchen table.

“You know, I still talk to Dr. Copeland about what happened that day, sometimes,” Buck pulls out a chair and slowly sinks down into it, his joints cracking as he does. He looks up at Eddie, who feels frozen in place, struck by the realization that it’s been four months and this is the first time Buck has ever actually mentioned the shooting, the first time he’s ever talked about it as something that happened to him too.

“For weeks I couldn’t look in the mirror because I—I would remember standing in the hospital bathroom after they took you in and seeing…your blood everywhere.”

Buck’s words settle in the pit of Eddie’s stomach like a rock. He wants to say something gentle and encouraging, but his throat feels tight, like it’s closing up on itself, and all he can do is stare back at Buck.

“Some nights I still have nightmares where I wake up and I can feel your blood on my hands. Or—or sometimes I wake up and in my dream…we never made it to the hospital. Or I’m frozen and I watch you die in the street. And it takes everything in me not to call you and make sure you’re alright. That you’re still alive.”

Eddie eventually makes his way to the chair opposite Buck, sliding into it with robotic, stilted movements that feel like they’re made by someone other than himself.

“I didn’t know,” He says quietly, and Buck regards him with a face full of guilt and pain.

“I knew you didn’t want to talk about it. But…maybe I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry,” Buck says and Eddie’s face twists.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, Buck.”

“The point is, no matter how much time has passed, I still think about that day. And I wasn’t the one who got shot.”

Eddie’s jaw works and lets his eyes fall to the table, trying to find something else to focus on, his heartbeat rattling in his chest. He traces the surface, noting all of the different dings and marks in the wood, the water stains from years of use, from years of living. He doesn’t remember the story behind each mark—some of them weren’t even made by him (or Christopher, or Buck, or anyone else they know). The table was a late-night purchase off of Facebook one of the first nights Eddie spent alone in their house. He remembers feeling a great sense of pride when he made the purchase like he was finally moving forward, achieving something for himself and for Christopher, doing the right thing. And then he remembers the deep sense of dread and loneliness that washed over him immediately after. A table was something he and Chris needed, but Eddie wasn’t used to furniture shopping alone. He couldn’t help but think about how Shannon would’ve hated the table he chose—and she told him as much when she eventually saw it.

He remembers Shannon and the way she had suddenly fallen back into his life, like a rare kind of meteor, a once in a lifetime kind of thing, crashing through the sky, fiery and fierce, ripping through the ozone layer and leaving a crater in its wake. That’s how he felt when Shannon died—torn and empty.

That’s how he felt in the months after the shooting, too. Even as he fought to get up each morning, fought to go to physical therapy, fought through his mandated counseling sessions, fought to regain mobility so he could get some sense of independence back, so that he didn’t feel so useless in his own home.

None of it cured the emptiness. Not even when he reached his hand out some nights and felt the warmth of Ana’s body next to him. Not even when she held him in her arms, ran her fingers through his hair. He doesn’t feel anything.

Or—maybe that’s not true. Maybe he does feel something, something he’s just been ignoring—an uneasiness deep in the pit of his stomach. An uneasiness that spreads, slow and quiet until suddenly it’s taken over his whole body—panic.

He does his best to ignore it but nothing soothes it—and maybe that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. Trying to soothe the ache, the fear. Reaching for the things he thought would bring him comfort, would help him move on. And acknowledging this pain and panic means that it’s not working. None of it’s working. Not this, ignore it and move on mentality, not this relationship with Ana. Because it’s all connected, isn’t it?

Three days before Eddie got shot in the street, Carla reached across the table and took his hand, and told him to be sure he was following his heart. Three days later he was bleeding out on the street, eyes locked with Buck’s, the two moments twisted and tied together in his history, a knot so tight Eddie didn’t think he could ever untie them.

Looking back up at Buck, Eddie remembers the dream he woke up from earlier. The dream itself isn’t important—it was just one in an endless sea of scenarios that have blended together into one long continuous nightmare; an empty street, a shot in the air, fire, blood, screaming, mud, water, gasping for air—but Eddie remembers what he was searching for when he woke up.

Blue eyes, equally startled.

“I don’t,” Eddie says suddenly, his voice surprising him. He pauses, looks back down at his hands. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?” Buck asks quietly. His hands slide across the table and hesitate just for a moment before they cover Eddie’s own. The relief is almost instant—not total but enough.

“Ask for help,” Eddie responds. Buck squeezes his hands and he looks back up at him. He swallows, hard, at the sight of Buck’s wide, pale blue eyes staring back at him. Eddie could get lost in them. Eddie wants to get lost in them. He thinks he could be safe there.

“You just did.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to realize he’s crying. It takes him even longer to realize this is the first time he’s ever cried in front of Buck. But after everything they’ve gone through, after this whole conversation, he can’t find it in him to feel ashamed of it. Especially not when Buck’s looking at him with nothing but sincerity and honesty in his eyes. And it hits him then that Buck loves him.

Eddie thinks maybe this is what it’s like to be loved in your entirety. He’s not sure he’s ever felt anything like it before. He doesn’t have time just yet to unpack the way it feels to have Buck look at him like that, to feel like he’s been cracked down the middle and opened up to reveal every ugly vulnerability and be met with nothing but love.

But it feels right. It feels like a step forward. A step in the right direction.

Eventually, he’ll have to go back to therapy. He’ll have to unpack the events from that day, the anger he never let himself feel, the fear that his life was about to be cut short, the regret he felt staring across the 20 feet of asphalt at Buck, covered in his blood.

He’ll have to talk to Christopher because he knows his son is too attentive for his own good, and if his trip to the hospital taught him anything (and it taught him a lot) it was that Christopher had no intention of playing along with this charade Eddie had going, and he saw right through it.

He’ll have to talk to Ana. He’ll have to confront the fact that when he searches for comfort in the middle of the night, in the midst of his panic, he doesn’t find it in the shape of her body, but in the image of Buck.

One day, he’ll have to face those feelings head-on. He’ll have to untangle this web of repression and fear, the threads of which had been spun so long before Eddie was ever aware that they’re practically embedded in his DNA.

But for now, he finds peace in his kitchen, his hands in Buck’s, blue eyes on his.

And he feels safe here. If only for the moment.

[supercorpkid]

A meeting with a Luthor.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Lillian Luthor x Granddaughter!Reader

Word count: 1650.

It’s becoming a thing. Seeing Lillian, you mean. It shouldn’t. It’s insane and weird and completely out of line, but still, a thing.

Like she knows exactly what you do, when you do it, and how you do it, the day when you don’t have anything planned -no dates, no L Corp, no training- she shows up at your school. This time she didn’t even leave the black car she was in, she just lowered the car window, and nodded at you. It didn’t even take convincing this time, just a nod, and you were in the car on the way to a restaurant.

“Grandmother.” You open the door and slide in.

“Granddaughter.” She tilts her head, and a little-tiny-really-small smile comes to her lips. “I was hoping you were having a free day so we could go have dinner together.”

“Dinner sounds great.” You agree, putting your backpack between your feet, and fasting your seatbelt. “I’m always down for food.”

“Of course you are.” She gives the driver directions, and out you go.

It’s a different restaurant this time. Fancier. You almost feel bad for being in your school T-shirt -like you had any other option- but Lillian waltzes in without a care for your appearance, and you follow, starting not to care too. If the Lillian Luthor doesn’t care about you walking in a fancy restaurant in your sneakers, it’s not you who are going to.

“I thought we could try some Greek food today.” She says, showing you the table, and you agree with your head.

It’s not like you never tried Greek food before. One of Lena’s favorite food is Moussaka, and somehow you think Lillian knows this, and somehow you think she brought you here, because she can’t exactly have Lena here with her without ending in a fight.

“Cool.” You sit on the table across from her. You let her order the food, she knows she has to order more food than if you were a normal teenager, so you don’t interfere. She is the one paying for it, anyway.

“Created something interesting lately?” Lillian asks, and as far as small talk goes, you rather she had started off with a lighter topic, but you shrug, sipping on your water.

“Haven’t been in the lab in a while.” You feel it in your bones when you say that. You haven’t been to L Corp in more than a month, which feels completely out of character for you.

“Oh, I hope you haven’t lost interest in science. You’re very good at that.” She says, and you look down, blushing in embarrassment. God, why do you always feel so flustered whenever Lillian throws a random compliment at you? “But I guess for a kid the superhero part is more exciting.”

“Um, no. I mean-” You think about it for a second. You’ve always wanted to go out and go supering with your momma, saving National City and feeling like you’re doing something good for the world. And honestly, when the world was at stake -not your world, but still- you went supering and it was fun. It was great, actually. But you’ve always liked science, robotics, and experiments a little more. Science was always there for you, even when you were terrible at controlling your powers, and even when your powers weren’t there at all. “I’m still interested, I just-I-Um-Have other stuff to focus now.”

And ‘other stuff’ herself, just walked into the restaurant with her parents right behind her. Maya looks at you, and you two lock eyes, while their parents talk to the host. Somehow your cheeks get even more flushed at the sight of her, and your heart skips a tiny beat. What are the odds?

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Actually, it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. The whole idea was to never ever in your life have Lillian Luthor, your girlfriend and -worst of all- your girlfriend-Luthor-hater’s parents in the same space. But somehow, here you are.

“Of course.” Lillian agrees, after following your eyes, and landing in the same place. “I see you’re still seeing the Rose girl.”

“Mhm.” You agree, looking back at the table. You sip on your water, just to have something to do.

“Should we invite them to dine with us?” She asks politely and you snap your head at her, at the sound of that.

“We should not. No. Rao, please, don’t.” You beg, shuffling in your chair uncomfortable. Lillian was never once the sociable type. Why the hell is she suggesting asking them to join you? It’s like… She knows. Oh. There’s a little tinkle in her eyes. A little too murdery for your liking. “Do you know them?”

“We have crossed paths before, yes.” She admits, with a little nod. “Mr. Rose is a very unsophisticated man, if I must say. A lawyer who fights only for himself. But I guess most of them do.”

“I don’t wanna hear this. It’s not my problem.” You say, a little too aggressive for your own liking, but apparently Lillian doesn’t care. She’s used to much worse.

“I would think it was, given they were so ungrateful after you saved their daughter’s life.”

“Well, they only know me as a Luthor, so-” You shrug. “Can’t really blame them for not liking me, can we?”

“I suppose not. The Luthor name has seen better days.” She sighs, and drops the subject as soon as the waiter comes in with the food. Lillian points at the Moussaka, with her head. “Lena used to like that.”

“She still does.” It’s the first thing you pick up, and her smile comes this time.

You finish eating, and while Lillian pays for dinner you make your way to the bathroom, before leaving the restaurant. You are not trying to listen to them, you really aren’t, but when you pick up Lillian’s voice saying ‘Mister Rose’, you can’t hear anything else anymore.

“Lillian Luthor.” It’s Mr. Rose’s voice. Oh no. This is bad. Too bad.

“Just thought I would introduce myself to your daughter.” Lillian says. “She is dating my granddaughter, after all.”

“Oh, I’m-Well-I-” Maya chokes on her words, and you feel bad you’re not there to protect her. Although you think if you were, it would probably be worse for her. “I’m Maya.”

“Yes, you are, dear.” Lillian says again, and you pray to Rao she’s going to walk out of there and leave all of them alone. “Mr. and Mrs. Rose, I hope the next time you meet my granddaughter you can be more respectful towards her, provided she didn’t exactly choose to be born a Luthor.”

“We know Luthors very well, they are born evil.” It’s Mrs. Rose’s voice that you hear now.

“I would’ve believed so. But that girl doesn’t exactly meet these criteria. So, I would appreciate you having a little bit more care about what you say to her and how you treat her.”

“Is that-Is that a threat, Mrs. Luthor?” Mr. Rose tries to pretend he is unaffected, but you hear his heart almost beating out of his chest.

“Please, don’t be ridiculous Roger.” Lillian adds a little scoff to his name. “We both know that if I was threatening you, you wouldn’t have to ask me that.”

Oh Rao, no. That was a threat.

“Please, enjoy your dinner.” She adds a little later. “It was nice meeting you, Maya.”

Nothing more is said, and you suspect she has finally stepped away from their table. That’s when you leave the bathroom, though you have finished your business long ago. You make your way out of the restaurant, to meet Lilian there, waiting for you. You both slide back in the car in silence.

“Should I add Greek food to your list of favorite foods?” Lillian asks, like she actually has a list of your favorite foods. You know what? She might as well have a whole list of your favorite things.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You look at her. She initially looks confused, but then it sinks in. “Did you forget I have super hearing?”

“I have to admit, yes.” Lillian confesses, pressing her lips together.

“You threatened them.”

“I did no such thing.” She defends herself and you roll your eyes. Both to the lie, and to the phrase you have heard Lena saying so many times. How annoying it is finding resemblance between them.

“Saying that you are not threatening someone is the definition of a threat. You of all people should know that. I would’ve thought you have threatened several people in your life.”

“Well, my threats never sound like that. So you have nothing to worry about.” She looks to the front, like she doesn’t want to talk about that anymore, but still adds. “Should anything happen to them, I guarantee you, it was not my doing.”

“So, you promise?” You ask and she turns her face to you again. You lift your little finger in front of your face, and she sighs.

“This is a childish pact.”

“It’s an oath, nonetheless.” You don’t move. She stares at your little finger and breathes heavily. It takes her a few seconds, and reluctantly she intertwines her little finger with yours.

“Then, I promise.”

You smile looking at Lillian’s finger intertwined with yours. What are the odds, right? You feel the car stopping, and you unattach your fingers, looking at your house behind you. You unfasten your seatbelt, pick up your backpack, and leave the car. Before closing the door, you look at her, still inside.

“You can add Japanese food to my list of favorites.”

“I know a fine Japanese restaurant.” She says, almost to herself, like something she should remember, a plan.

“We should go there next time.” You smile and salute her off. “Grandmother.”

Lillian smiles a little, and tilts her head at you. “Granddaughter.”

Notes:

Thanks @adeledewittj for this prompt, I love writing Lillian.

[lugialagia]

A curious video

Summary : Peter is now leaving in the compound with the Avengers. One day, Tony finds the boy’s laptop open and as he was curious, he couldn’t help but to sneak around. And what he finds will not leave him indifferent.

Ship/Pairing : Starker (Tony x Peter)

Words : 2,521

TW!: smut, swearing

AN: Peter is +18. This is my first time writing smut in a fic!

It was a fairly normal day for Tony. He didn’t sleep much, stayed in his lab for most of the night to work on several projects. And when the morning came, he prepared himself a cup of coffee. Well, more like three to be honest. Better coffee than alcohol, right?  

Then, he went downstairs to the gym and started his training like any other day. Because after all, he was an Avenger, he needed to stay in shape to save the world. After an hour and half, he stopped and walked back to his bedroom to take a shower to wipe out the sweat from his body.

Now clean, Tony made his way to the lounge where the kitchen was. He needed something in his stomach after his sport. Making his way there, he grabbed something in the fridge to eat and walked toward the couch, plopping down on it and relaxing.  

That's when he noticed the open laptop on the coffee table. It was Peter's. Tony had let him stay at the compound for his studies. It was closer to MIT than May's apartment and when he needed training of improvement on his suit, Tony was right downstairs. And it was better for the man because he secretly liked the youngest male. 

Peter was cute and smart, he loved science and physics, everything interested him and Tony loved to have him around in the lab. That's how he started to develop feelings for Peter. But he never said anything about this. Peter was young and he…wasn’t. It would be weird and he would be considered like a pervert.  

As he was very curious and he liked to know what Peter was working on, he decided to be a little weasel. So he took the laptop on his lap and opened the document with all his files. Some names he recognized since they worked on it already, and some very unknown. He clicked on one file and looked at the document and the images. It was a science project for school. And it looked pretty good to be honest. Tony will let him do this alone, he didn’t need him for that, else he would have come to him already. Then Tony looked at another one. It seemed to be a sort of robot that could do some tasks for disabled people. Such a nice boy...

That’s when his eyes wandered on a file with a curious name ‘xTx’. Yeah, what a strange name. Usually, Peter was very clean with the name of his files, he liked to name them clearly because he often forgot what it was with code name. Clicking on it, the file opened to only a video, no documents. Once again, strange. Tony then decided to watch the video. What was his surprise when he saw the youngest male, naked, on his bed, fucking himself with a toy as he pumped his cock while moaning some sweet ‘sir’ from time to time. “Fuck...” Tony groaned. Oh he couldn’t help but to watch. His gaze couldn’t look at something else and he couldn’t close the video player.  

It had been quite a while since Tony wanted to see this. To see Peter naked, on his bed, with his shaft buried deep inside him. Now that he had the sight in front of his eyes, the billionaire wanted to see it in real life, to touch his smooth skin and to mark him. His cock was already half hard from just that. Fortunately for him, he was all alone in the compound this morning. So he didn’t hesitate to bury his hand into his pant and started to caress his bulge and stroke his length when he was hard enough. ‘Oh please sir, fuck me hard.’ Tony let out a low growl at that, gripping his own cock tight. “I’ll definitely fuck you hard, yes.” A mere moment after, when Peter was close, Tony didn’t expect for him to call his name. ‘Fuck- ah! Tony!’ With that, the genius came in his pants, panting, trying to collect himself and to think about what was in this video.  

Did he really heard his name falling from the boy’s lips? Yes, definitely. Did he just watch a sex tape of Peter? Oh yes. Should he tell him about it? He wasn’t sure. Peter would very much be mad. But...if the boy said his name, it was because he felt the same way? Or at least he was finding him attractive and wanted a good fuck. But who wouldn’t, honestly? Well, Tony had the whole day to think about it while working in the lab.

***  

When Peter was finally back from school, he immediately went in the lab to find Tony. “Hey Tony! You will never know what hap- what's wrong?” The boy interrupted himself when he saw Tony, arms crossed over his chest. “Am I in trouble?” he asked with a slight frown. “Depends.” Tony replied as he stood up to face Peter. “I found something really interesting this morning and I have the whole day to think about it.”  

Peter blinked a few times and grinned widely. “Did you find a way to make a spaceship?!” Tony clicked his tongue and took a step further, standing a few inches away from the boy. “No. I’m talking about you.” he said with a low voice. “M-me?” Peter started to lose his confidence. “What have I done?” he asked, backing away. Tony followed him and when Peter couldn’t go anywhere anymore, he cupped his chin firmly. “Your laptop was opened, so I looked at your project and I found a very naughty video that wasn’t a science project at all.” He purred.

Peter’s brown eyes widened and he gulped loudly. “O-oh shit...fuck I- please don’t be mad!” Tony raised a brow and grinned. “Mad? Oh sweetheart, do you really think I'd be mad for seeing you fucking that cute dildo while moaning my name?” he asked, pressing their crotch together. “Quite the contrary here.” he smirked, Peter letting out a surprised yelp when he felt Tony’s erection against him. “Maybe I do want to hear my name falling from your lips here and now, what to you say?” Tony asked with a devious grin. “Please...” Peter whispered desperately.

The next second, Tony’s lips were on his. Peter melted instantly against the man, wrapping his arms around his neck as Tony kept a hand on his jaw and the other on his waist. When the kiss deepened, the youngest let out a soft content sigh and tried to fight back Tony’s tongue, but it was already a lost battle. The genius was exploring his mouth with passion, grinding his hips against the other who was becoming hard with all the friction.  

Tony pulled away from the kiss and started to kiss and nibble at Peter's neck, leaving trail of little bruises, marking the boy's skin, marking him as his. Peter let out soft moans as the man's lips were traveling on his neck. “Please Tony...I need more.” he pleaded, his cock aching in his pants. Tony chuckled and quickly worked on Peter's pants, freeing his cock and pumping it slowly. “Take off your shirt for me.” Of course, Peter obeyed immediately.  

The young man never thought this could happen for real. It was a dream. He had dreamt about this moment since years. Even before he met Tony. He had always been a fan of his work and when he was a teenager, he often had wet dream about the man. And the crush transformed into love when he started to see him almost everyday. Of course, he didn’t say anything because he thought it would be weird. And he was still minor at that time...

“Perfect.” Tony purred. “Better in real life than on a video.” he smirked. Peter blushed and his cock was leaking on Tony's hand. “T-thank you.” Peter said shyly. “Tell me, do you often touch yourself thinking about me?” The man asked and Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah fuck all the time.” he moaned when Tony squeezed him a bit harder. “What a dirty boy.” Tony smirked. Oh he loved this answer, of course. “Get on your knees for me, want to see my cock in your pretty mouth.” Tony said cupping the other’s jaw.  

Immediately, the youngest sank to his knees and worked on his pants, moaning appreciatively when he saw Tony’s large cock. “Like what you see, baby?” Tony asked with a smirk. Peter bit his lower lip and nodded. “Yeah.” he whispered and without wasting any more moment, wrapped his lips around the pink tip. Tony hissed at the sensation, the warm and wet lips surrounding his sensitive cock. “Yeah fuck baby, suck me good and I’ll fuck you like you always dreamt.” the man said sliding a hand into Peter’s soft hair. Loving the praise –and the promise of a good fuck- Peter pushed more of his shaft into his mouth, humming at the taste and bobbing his head at a steady pace.

Tony was enhanced by the sight, to see his cock disappearing into the boy’s mouth was something beautiful. He imagined this scene a lot of time but the reality was ten times better. “Such a good boy. Pleasing me so well.” Tony purred. “Fuck, you’re so pretty down there.” Peter looked up, his innocent brown eyes blown with lust as his tongue teased the large vein under his length. This was mind-blowing for Tony. Sure, he had a lot of sex and partners and experience, but even the simplest things done by Peter were a hundred times better. Gripping his hair tighter, Tony gave him the hint to take more into his mouth. And that’s what Peter did. He took him in the back of his throat –with a bit of struggle and gag- but he still managed to take him whole. His trainings weren’t done for nothing in the end. Because Peter trained to deep-throat his toy just in case the day would come where he would have Tony’s real cock inside his mouth.  

“Ah fuck!” Tony let out a low growl, his head tilted backward. “So good baby. Fuck- you're doing so well.” he praised, lightly bucking his hips up. Peter's cheeks were flushed and tears were prickling in his eyes as he tried not to gag or choke. He was so happy that Tony was loving what he did, that he was pleasured by his mouth and his ministrations. The mam was loving this so much that he was already feeling close. He lightly tugged on the boy's hair to pull him off. “I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop now. I'd like to, but I really want to fuck you.” he purred. Peter looked up at him with glissening eyes and lip. What a sight for the billionaire. “Lay on the couch baby boy.” Tony ordered softly.  

“Yes sir.” Peter replied, immediately standing up and getting rid of his pants and underwear. Then he walked toward the couch and laid on his back, instantly spreading his legs, one propped up on the back of the couch and the other staying in the ground. Tony observed him with dark eyes, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips. “What a beautiful sight.” he purred, watching how Peter's cock was red, leaking and needy. “Please sir, I need you. I have thought about you for so long… I want to feel you.” he pleaded softly.

Obviously, Tony couldn’t help but to comply. He wanted this so much too. Walking toward him, the man pulled off his clothes, letting them fall on the ground. There he stood, in his naked glory, in front of Peter. Tanned skin and muscles well shaped even for his age, the white scar on his chest contrasting with the rest of his skin. He was handsome. So much. And Peter was liking this a lot. Tony was even better that what he ever imagined. Tony then leaned over him, brushing their cocks together. “Are you ready to take me, baby boy?” Tony asked cupping his jaw.  

“Y-yes! Please I want it so much, sir.” Peter whined. Tony grinned and softly pressed the tip of his cock against Peter's rim. Then, he slowly pushed in, stretching his hole until he was completely buried inside of the boy. Peter's breath itched as he was being filled. Tony was bigger than his toy and he loved this so much. When he was finally relaxed, he let out the biggest moan ever, making Tony's skin shivering with excitement. “So tight baby.” the man groaned a little frown forming on his forehead. “And you're so big, sir.” Peter replied with another moan. Feeling overly confident, the older one started to move, slowly thrusting at first to get used to the feeling, he quickly improved his movement when the boy under him was letting out moans over and over again.  

Leaning down, Tony pulled Peter into a heated kissing session, plunging his tongue inside his mouth as one of his hands started to rub and pinch his nipple. Peter’s cock was throbbing hard, leaking on his stomach while Tony pounded into him, hitting his prostate. “Fuck!” Peter screamed, arching his back to put more pressure on the cock inside him. “P-please do that again! Oh fuck, that felt so good!” Tony laughed softly at that, smirking against his lips and pinching his nipple hard. “Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll make you see stars.” He said in a deep and low voice, thrusting hard and fast into him. Peter was a moaning mess and his legs were shaking, his rim clenching around Tony and his cock ready to spill his seed.  

“Please Tony-” Peter whined, tears prickling in his eyes with the wonderful warm and intense pleasure he was feeling. Of course, Tony was on the edge too, so he gripped the boy’s cock and pumped it hard. “I want you to cum for me, baby boy. Cum and I’ll reward you with mine in your pretty ass.” he ordered in a low voice. Immediately, Peter complied and came hard on his chest, so hard that some even hit his neck, a loud moan of Tony’s name escaping his lips. At the sight, the billionaire couldn’t contain himself anymore and came hard, shooting his seed inside Peter while his teeth sank into the flesh right above his heart.

Taking a bit of time to take their breath after their mind-blowing climax, they stayed in that position, panting. After a moment, Tony gently pulled out with a light hiss and looked up at Peter. “You doing good there baby?” he asked. “Y-yeah.” Peter whispered. “It was...wow... You’re just...wow.” Honestly, he was at loss of words. “Yeah, just like you.” Tony chuckled and pecked his lips softly. “Now, next time I’ll see a porn video on your computer...I’ll use every toy I possess, on you.” he smirked. Peter laughed softly, closing his eyes as he felt tired. “Is that a threat, Tony?” he asked. “It’s a promise.” Tony replied, whispering into his ear.

[d-arkside]

Call her by my name (Nathan Bateman x reader)

Also Nathan x Kyoko

Warnings = dub-con, implied non-consensual voyeurism from Nathan, explicit non-consenual voyerisum from you - you watch Nathan fuck Kyoko via the computer, masturbation. Language, self-inflicted humiliation (?), pwp

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Word count = 1.9k

By honeybee xx

***

Nathan’s compound was always quiet, but it was different in the dark. The silence felt heavier, more crushing somehow.

You didn’t normally like walking through the hallways after dark, preferring to stay in your room. There was something intimate about it, like you were trespassing on Nathan’s privacy, even though he’d said you could do what you wanted, when you wanted.

But you’d woken to a crash, and so you were making your way to Nathan’s office to see where he was and if he maybe needed help. He could call you, but you doubted his pride would allow him to do so. And what if he was seriously hurt and couldn’t call?

However, to your surprise, Nathan wasn’t in his office, making you feel a little foolish for knocking, not that anyone was around to witness it. Wandering over to his desk, you sit in his chair, your body almost automatically enveloped by the soft cushions.

How does he work in this thing? You were tired, and this was so comfortable, you felt like you could fall asleep almost immediately. They smell like him too, something musky and woody, and inexplicably Nathan. Comforting.

Shaking the mouse, you blink when the monitor flicks on, and… there must be something wrong. Nathan never leaves his account unlocked. It’s already showing the cameras, an empty room, lit by a solitary lamp on a- that’s your room.

Your eyes dance around all the details on the screen - you definitely left your duvet folded back like that, your pillows are arranged with a gap for your body - does that mean Nathan was watching you sleep?

But you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, just check he’s not dying somewhere in this house, and go back to bed.

You click through the rooms, eyes furiously scanning each corner. The only thing out of place is broken glass in the main hallway, presumably the noise you heard. Everything else seems normal, although the back of your neck has started to prickle in anticipation.

And then you find him.

He’s not in trouble.

Not at all.

You instinctively look away, spinning the chair around, your arms jolting the desk and keyboard in panic, and suddenly a breathy groan fills the quiet air.

Except it’s not just a groan. It’s a word. It’s a name.

It’s your name.

You spin back around, suddenly wide awake, your heart beating faster.

This time, you let your eyes sweep the screen, allowing yourself to catch on particular details.

Kyoko’s on all fours, arms crossed under her head, buried in the pillows. Her ass is raised in the air, her back curving as she leans towards Nathan. She’s wearing a loose t-shirt that hides the upper details of her body to you.

Nathan is behind her on his knees. One hand is resting on her left ass cheek, massaging it gently. His cock is hard, coated with his precum and you can just see it glimmering as he moves his right hand up and down.

You swallow, mouth dry. You’ve seen him shirtless before, he’s not self-conscious and you’re free to look your fill on a hot day, or when he’s working out. His butt is...just as amazing as you’d always thought it would be, often emphasised by those shorts that he sometimes likes to wear. His cock, on the other hand-

You look, and you look, and you look. You lick your lips without thinking, and you wonder what he tastes like. You would let him fuck your face. Anything, to get that cock in your mouth. It feels weird to call a cock pretty, but it is. There’s no other word for it. Heat is pooling between your legs, and you shift, pressing your thighs together. This is turning you on.

Somehow, it’s not surprising. You’ve always thought Nathan was attractive, from the very day you’d arrived, and he’d been wearing those stupid fucking glasses looking at you like ...fuck…like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

As you watch, he lines up, slowly thrusting into her, groaning your name again, louder this time, as he does so. Kyoko’s wet, you can hear it, and you briefly wonder if Nathan really put that much thought into the building of her, or if he’s just used lube. That heat is growing, beginning to spreading further through your body, centered around your stomach, and you can’t look away from the screen.

He’s talking as well, his voice a low rasp. “Fuck.” You’re not surprised he’s swearing. “I want you, fuck.” Is he...talking about you? “Kyoko’s nothing compared to you.” Fuck his voice is sexy.

Once Nathan’s fully inside her, he doesn’t move for a second, his thighs pressed against hers. You’ve admired his ass before, you’d have to be blind not to, and with a click of a button, you’ve switched camera angles so you can see the muscles tensed down his back, his butt, his thighs, as he struggles to hold himself still.

Would he have this much control with you? You can’t decide which idea you like more - Nathan controlling you, commanding you with his usual precision as he expertly takes you apart, or you being the one thing, the one person, who can make him lose his control. Fuck.

You lean back in the chair, getting another whiff of that distinctly Nathan-smell, and aware that you shouldn’t be here in the first place, you really shouldn’t be watching, that you definitely shouldn’t be about to do what you’re thinking of doing.

But something about all those shouldn’t’s is really turning you on. You can feel that heat gathering, stronger in your belly, low and tight. You squirm, unaware that as you watch the screen, your bedroom eyes are coming out in full force, low and dark. Instead, you switch camera angles again - although you could watch Nathan’s ass all day you want a better view.

Now you’re looking at them side-on, Kyoko facing away from you, and Nathan’s starting to move. Slowly at first, he starts with deep thrusts, keeping absolute control. He’s frowning in concentration, eyes hooded, and you want to kiss that crease in the centre of his forehead, help him relax properly.

You can’t help the sigh that escapes you. It’s whiny, bordering on a moan, but the sounds coming from the computer are filthy, Nathan’s groans are low in his throat, and when you turn the volume up, you can hear every sound as Nathan thrusts in and out of Kyoko. You bite your lip as it escapes, almost on instinct, as if you’re scared Nathan will hear you.

Kyoko’s not making any noise, and you wonder if that’s what Nathan prefers from all his partners, or just because she’s a robot. Maybe if she moans it ruins his fantasy, because he’s clearly thinking of you. He lets out another strangled gasp of your name, not shutting up. He wants to see how you would “look bouncing on my cock, kitten.” His thrusts speed up a little. “I can’t get off without thinking about you, sometimes I watch you sleep and that’s enou-” He cuts himself off with a groan.

Your hand has been resting near your crotch for a while now, as though you’re thinking about it, and that’s the last straw. If Nathan’s having sex masturbating and thinking of you, you can watch and masturbate. There’s flawed logic somewhere here and you should probably feel offended that he’s thinking of you while he’s balls deep in someone (something?) else, should probably feel violated, but you don’t. Instead you feel more turned on than you ever have in your life.

Your hand dips under your pyjama shorts, lightly teasing the folds of your pussy as you watch. Nathan’s picking up his speed now, still not fast, but you can hear the familiar slap of skin-on-skin as you watch.

“Kitten could I tie you up?” Nathan sounds desperate now, even as he delivers a resounding smack to Kyoko’s ass. “Would you let me hit you? Call you a slut? Sometimes I swear you know what you’re doing when you wear those leggings on your runs, they...oh…make your ass look so good.”

You close your eyes for a brief second, and it sounds like you’re listening to Nathan using his hand, it’s only him making noises, and fuck they’re sexy. His grunts and moans are filling the air, and you know it’s wrong, you know you shouldn’t be watching this, let alone playing with yourself as your breaths come faster and shorter.

You wonder if Kyoko can cum. Has Nathan already made her? Or did he not bother? Would he with you? You imagine he would - throughout your stay here, he’s always made you feel comfortable and relaxed. You think he’d be almost desperate to eat you out.

You circle your clit at the thought of Nathan’s head between your thighs, how his beard would leave marks, how you’d definitely feel him the next day. Your free hand moves to palm at one of your breasts and you moan, feeling yourself grow wetter.

Or maybe he’d be better with his fingers. He’s got capable hands after all, always steady when he’s working on his robots, precise and controlled. He’d know what to do to you.

Your eyes want to automatically close, yet you can’t look away from the screen, watching Nathan’s dick going in and out of Kyoko. You slide one finger inside of you, then another, moaning at the stretch, the feeling of yourself, hot and wet and tight around your own fingers.

What would it be like to feel Nathan’s dick inside of you? He’s big, would he fit? Your fingers are moving in time with Nathan’s thrusts on screen, and you feel that tightness inside of you, growing already.

Nathan’s gripping Kyoko’s hips, his fingers controlling her movements and bringing her to him. You let out a moan, your fingers becoming wetter as your movements become sloppier. You can feel your orgasm approaching, a wave beginning to crest inside of you.

Maybe Nathan would like the idea of being watched. For the first time, you wonder if there are cameras in his office. It would make sense. You think about Nathan watching you watch him in the future, and groan. There’s probably one facing you in the computer. The thought makes your finger move faster against your clit.

Does he always moan your name when he has sex with Kyoko?

That wave inside you is growing, bigger and bigger, every time you touch your clit. “Nathan…” his name is a whisper on your lips at first. You imagine that he’s standing here in front of you, watching the way you finger yourself, that look of disapproval on his face.

“Nathan,” it’s louder this time, like you’re begging for him to let you cum. You keep moving your fingers, and moan his name again as the wave crashes inside of you, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you cum.

You don’t stop watching, even after you’ve cum, absentmindedly bringing your fingers up to your mouth, and cleaning yourself off them. Nathan would make you do the same. You can’t help but whimper a little, still half in your fantasy of Nathan humiliating you, even as the real Nathan continues to pound into Kyoko, harder and faster than before.

Finally he lets out a strangled groan, signalling his own release into Kyoko.

You sit there, breathless, watching him try to catch his breath, effectively ignoring Kyoko as she gets up without looking at him and leaves the room. Tiredness is tugging at you, it always does after an orgasm, and you can see that Nathan doesn’t look like he’ll be moving anytime soon. It would be nice to sleep here, surrounded by his smell, is one of the last things you think before you allow your eyes to close.

***

[whatudottu]

So I’m sure y’all (ben 10 fans specifically) know about the episode Inspector 13? And how Gwen couldn’t used her mana like she usually does?

Yeah, those are my thoughts today and I’m gonna talk about ‘em.

Let’s get this out of the way first, pure full Anodites will not have the same trouble that Gwen has, regardless of form. Basic reason here same as normal, they’re pure mana and Gwen is a fleshy human with a spark, so inherently there’s already a difference in the flow of mana.

But are other species capable of magic and mana manipulation?

Heck yeah!

Knowing what we’ve seen with Anodites already, sans Gwen of course, they’re the... uh... hmm let’s say playboys of the universe. Much in the same way that humans can’t keep it in their pants, Anodites don’t have pants in the first place and would definitely proliferate with life spanning galaxies. And just like with humans, there is a chance that any hybrid child of an Anodite can have the spark.

But does that mean that Gwen can use mana as each of the aliens she turns into?

Heck no!

At least not on first try.

Now let me explain. Humans have a filter on their flow of mana, one which Anodites don’t possess, but other species have that same filter. Why? Well, it’s their DNA of course, it’s what separates them from the pure energy beings of Anodites, the unfiltered raw flow of mana. This filter is there because while Anodites are filled with mana, a hybrid with a spark produces their own unique life energy that interacts and mingles with the flow of their mana.

But what does that mean for Gwen?

Given that the spark is not... uh... entirely genetic (there’s a need for an Anodite SOMEWHERE in the bloodline for the spark, but it doesn’t come up in DNA), it should exist through each transformation. But the issue here is that, while the spark stays the same, the filter wildly changes.

Gwen, as herself, is athletic and light on her feet, so her mana floats, twists and turns, and when solid, is akin to glass. But as Diamondhead, suddenly there’s more weight and less dexterity. There’s a difference that opens a new set of rules for Gwen that she’s never had to deal with, and just like at the start of her magic career, things don’t work exactly as they should.

I’m done with the whole analysis side of this thought, but the main reason why this is on my mind is because... well... I didn’t like how the show handled the differences in mana manipulation. It’s maybe a sneaky little episode rewrite, and maybe a little more interesting version of the ‘getting-used-to-another-person’s-powers’ trope... which I’m pretty sure is a thing. I don’t know I’ve seen it before a few times so whatever.

ANYWAY! Moving on to what I would’ve like to have happened, let’s go in order of Gwen’s transformations.

As stated (and is obvious), Petrosapiens aren’t very known for their light weight and dexterity, so one’s magic would reflect this. How this will affect their mana would turn the free flowing looseness of floating mana into physics based materialisation. But what makes this different to a Petrosapien’s natural crystalkinesis?

Let’s demonstrate with Diamondhead.

A falling Gwen would realise quick that her attempts at making platforms would fail, seeing them fall alongside her. However, producing these solid objects took nothing away from her physical levels of energy, meaning Diamondhead wasn’t growing fatigued unlike with typical crystalkinesis. Gwen would have the ability to form as much ‘crystals’ as she wants in order to keep her from crashing too heavily into the ground.

This use of mana is more so built upon traps, because they last a lot longer and barely need concentration to work. Used as a replacement for crystalkinesis, a Petrosapien ain’t gonna get very far, because these ‘traps’ work on everyone even if they can disperse the constructs. No, it’s better to stay away from the constructs because they amplify sonic waves (the mana vibrates as if like a tuning fork) and can create shatter explosions if struck the right way. For the latter, if y’all have seen the dude pressure plating a diamond, it’s like that.

Now, let’s talk about the second alien Gwen transforms into, Clockwork!

Chronosapiens are a little more robotic than Humans and Petrosapiens, especially Anodites, so their filter of mana is a lot larger. It is the fact that they are alive in the first place that let’s them use magic at all, but their mana capabilities are extremely limited. It’s like being trapped in a metal suit, where it’s hard to allow the internal spark to manipulate the external environment. But what if one doesn’t use external magic?

Clockwork can work like this.

Gwen may not manage to bypass the filter and create mana constructs, or even a flowing tendril, but she can find ways for her modified magic to work. Clockwork keeps the spark internally, so why not help that along with less offensive and defensive skills, and instead more utility casting. What does this mean? Flight, babes! But instead of the traditional sort of flight, Gwen finds that she can ‘walk on frozen time’ and ‘slip through the seems’.

Okay maybe that sounds a little too much like the Esoterica power set, but it’s not like seeing a fourth dimension and accessing the inaccessible. It may appear to be the same, but just like how people may perceive Clockwork to have super speed, even though he’s just slowed time for everyone else, it’s just a matter of perspective. But in general, learning to use mana outwardly would need more time than Gwen had.

Moving on to alien number 3, we have Humungousaur.

Now, in terms of filters, Vaxasaurians have a little more access to mana manipulation than Petrosapiens and especially Chronosapiens, but they have a whole lot of life energy due to their size, which has an effect on their spark. While the dexterity of their magic can be comparable to Human’s manipulation, the strength of it is quite limited, so while a Vaxasaurian may be dependent on their physical bodies for attack and defence, magic is just a bonus action.

So how would Humungousaur use magic instead?

Well, while Gwen would engage in a good old round of fisticuffs, she can use mana like a lasso/whip to trip opponents and yank them this way and that. And by ‘this way’ I mean directly into her punch, like you’re the ball of a paddle-board. It’s definitely more of an assistance type of magic, and it’s definitely not strong enough to support the weight of Humungousaur, but Gwen can control the battlefield by controlling the stability of the enemy.

Think hunting and gathering, this is where a Vaxasaurian’s magic thrives, where it helps with restraining and retrieval rather than attack and defence, they’ve already got THAT down. Prime Vaxasaurians, with their size increase, would lose the use of their mana when at max height, but Reboot Vaxasaurians can emphasise their tail shockwave with magic to make it even more deadly.

Up next is Upchuck, and boy is this an easy one.

Gourmands already have a natural relationship between themselves and energy, so someone with the spark can super enhance their energy bile. To the point where it’s almost unnecessary to actually eat anything to get at least some sort of fire power. Of course, with a Gourmand’s small squishy body, they are perfectly capable of throwing up defences (I swear that pun was an accident), but who needs defences when you’ve got a whole arsenal of explosive mana.

But there’s a little issue with Upchuck that Gwen has to get over.

The problem? Gwen’s a little self-conscious about a Gourmand’s abilities. Mana is the flow of life energy, so if the flow is restrained by embarrassment, it doesn’t act at its full potential. Upchuck can certainly try to use magic as a crutch to avoid needing to eat and spit her way in, but the free flowing stream cutting off is inhibiting the strength of her defence too.

SO! When Gwen finally caves and eats some metal, there’s enough power to blast a hole into the techadon factory big enough to get inside with time to spare. Aside from enhancing the blasting power of a Gourmand’s natural energy, the use of mana manipulation can change the ‘weaponry’ of the attack, which can turn into a gassy smokescreen (burp) and a sticky ball (loogie) to name a few. A Gourmand’s best strength is confidence, so Gwen would need to adapt her mana the same way.

And last but not least, we have Rath stepping up to the plate.

Now, Appoplexians are... rather straight forward and fight tooth and claw rather than strategically. They have a similar mana to life energy filter ratio to Humans, but that doesn’t mean that they’re just as magic friendly. Mana manipulation typically requires coherent thought other than the urge to beat someone up.

But Rath can use magic, and here’s how Gwen works it.

Cutting to the chase, there’s no range mana attacks, at all. For one thing, Rath would find it cowardly, another being that unlike ripping out a turret and throwing it at something else, there’s not enough brutal violence. And utility magic is not even considered. That needs some planning, and the only plan Rath has going into the fight is to WIN! And Gwen is not immune to the urge for violence.

So what happens instead, Gwen would accentuate a punch, slash or block with the extra kick of mana. Enemy fist approaching at 5 o’clock, t-minus 2 seconds? Mana armour. The techadon warrior is regenerating a little too fast for liking? Mana blade! Inspector 13 is being an annoying little techadon engineer with his constant downplay of their abilities? MANA PUNCH!

And after all that, Gwen gets to be in her own skin again. Some of the abilities she learnt that day don’t translate to her Human form. She can’t form crystal traps, she can’t slip between the seams of time, she can’t modify the properties of her mana. But some of the techniques she learnt can be adapted into her regular fighting. She can manipulate the battle field, she can construct armour on the fly.

But most importantly, she can see the differences of life energy, and how they effect magic use. Seeing a range of different mana manipulation, Gwen has unlocked a more open perspective on magic and can learn so much more, her expectations of Human magic pried open wide.

I think THAT would’ve been neat.

But instead we got same face syndrome not to rag on the episode haha.

[chancelloramidala]

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

TWO.

Despite her Jedi training, Ahsoka couldn’t help but be have a child-like excitement of their surroundings. She sat in the window seat beside Anakin and pressed her face against the glass, staring at the big flashy lights and people they passed. From what she saw, Manhattan looked like a smaller version of Coruscant, and lacked the many, MANY, skyscrapers, flying speeders in the air, and alien species walking around. In fact, Ahsoka could only see the human species on the streets and in the cars they passed. Were there no other alien species on Earth? Was she the only alien species here?

Padmé, who was on the other side of Anakin, grinned at Ahsoka’s visible enthusiasm and constant pointing at something new she didn’t recognize but thought it resembled something back home. She nodded along to the teenage Torguta’s animated hand movements and tried to answer as many questions as she could. But the Senator, once Queen, was equally as curious about this planet they were on as Padawan, but dimmed down a couple of notches.

Anakin on the other hand, didn’t like any of this. He was one to throw original plans out the window and improvise, but this was a completely different territory for the Jedi Knight. Hell, this was a completely different part of the galaxy that didn’t know anything about the Jedi or the Force.

Obi-Wan, who was sitting in the front seat with the chair slightly reclined backwards (not that Ahsoka was complaining), could sense his former student’s anxiety about their new environment. Their bond never diminished as time passed, but fortified and became a constant in their lives. He turned his head to look at Anakin and gave him a small smile, sending him soothing waves of warmth through their bond and then closed his eyes for a moment.

Rex was stuck in the back with Artoo, and even if the SUV was roomy, he did not like the tight space. It was different, nothing like a speeder or ship he’s been in. Even Artoo was quietly grumbling about how much he hated this stupid speeder because with each turn and stop, Rex had to outstretch his arm(s) to make sure the astromech droid didn’t topple over and hit Anakin in the back of his head.

Their driver, Clint, stared at the strange bunch. Now when he was expecting a couple of aliens that had kidnapped Peter, he was expecting something along the lines of the Chitauri that he faced all those years ago. But these aliens, weren’t anything like them. Most of them were human, the teenage girl though, she was definitely an alien, for she had orange skin, white face markings and something that resembled horns? She also didn’t have any hair, which wasn’t an issue for the man, but it was different than what he was used to seeing.

But then again, after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. and becoming an Avenger, normal wasn’t in Clint’s vocabulary anymore.

After they finally reached the garage of the Tower, Clint parked the SUV and lead everyone to the elevator, including the beeping robot, which somewhat resembled a rolling trash can, that he forgot they had.

“They have turbolifts here, Master,” the orange skinned humanoid female commented as the elevator started to move. “Fascinating,” she mumbled under her breath.

“It’s slower,” the shaggy-haired human male said with a small smirk.

Clint chuckled softly, “Don’t let Stark hear you say that, he’s already an insufferable bastard as is.”

“I take it this Stark person made this turbolift?” Padmé inquired.

“Yup,” Clint popped the ‘p’, “and the entire building along with a lot of other technological gizmos. He’s the one in the metal suit from earlier that wanted to blast your asses on the spot,”

“Comforting,” Anakin said dryly.

Then, the doors to the turbolift or also known as elevators, opened revealing a red and gold skinned being. Vision smiled amicably at the newest arrivals and stepped aside to let them through. “Welcome, my name is The Vision or just Vision. I’m a synthetic android made from vibranium that was once an A.I for Mr, Stark. He also told me to lead you to the medical labs to be checked up on and to provide you with clothes to change into.”

“Thank you, Vision.” Padmé smiled back at the man and decided to walk beside him, introducing herself and the rest of her group to him.

Anakin then took Obi-Wan off of Rex’s hands, allowing his former teacher lean against him as they followed after Vision and Padmé down the long corridor. When they finally arrived at the doors to the lab, Vision input something into the panel before the doors slide open. There was a man in a purple shirt with his back to the rest of them, staring at a holographic screen and rubbing his chin anxiously.

“Dr. Banner, may I introduce our guests?” Vision told the man, causing him to turn around with blatant surprise.

“Vision, hey,” the Doctor nodded his head and curiously glanced at the group behind him.

“This is Padmé Amidala, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Captain Rex, Ahsoka Tano, and their astromech droid, R2-D2,” Vision carefully gestured to each and every being clearly making sure that each brief description Padmé gave him correlated correctly.

“Nice to meet all of you, my name is Bruce Banner,” he raised his hand slightly to wave. “I’ll be doing some basic scans and check-ups on all of you, Tony guessed all of your sizes and has some clothes stacked on the bench over there,” he pointed to said bench, “that you can change into. There’s an bathroom connected through that door,” again, pointing to where said door was.

“I’ll go first,” Ahsoka stepped forward with a bright and eager smile.

Bruce eyed the young Torguta with a great amount of curiosity before nodding firmly and gesturing to the table he’d be examining her on. “Thank you, and you’re... Ahsoka, correct?”

“You’re right, doc!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

An hour or so later, everyone had changed out of their clothes and into Earthly outfits. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Rex were given gray, black, and blue sweatpants along with white, green, and gray t-shirts. Ahsoka and Padmé wore black leggings paired with red and blue tees. They’d also been given black sneakers and socks which were surprisingly comfortable.

Obi-Wan, despite his initial injuries, was given a thorough check up by Dr. Banner. His chest was wrapped and he was given some pills for the pain. Everyone else had a clean bill of health, and vaccinations just in case.their space bodies couldn’t handle whatever illnesses Earth had to offer.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Padmé were then tasked with trying to explain their situation to the Avengers (which Anakin was absolutely floored to learn that was their actual team name.) Ahsoka and Rex lingered in the background, keeping to themselves and talking to each other about how weird this all was.

An eccentric billionaire who used all of his high-technology to make the world a better place. A super soldier that was frozen alive for 70 years with a heart of gold. Two assassins with a deep history with one another. Super-powered twins, one was weird, the other was fast. A Doctor that turned into an alternate person which was green and severely muscular when angered. A former assassin that was brainwashed to be a human weapon... and many other team members that they haven’t met because they weren’t on site according to Vision.

“Sorry if I find it hard to believe... any of that.” Tony blinked after Obi-Wan and Padmé spoke about the Clone Wars that had recently ended in their galaxy. “And sorry, that you two and the kid are... um... space wizards?”

“Some find that the Jedi are sorcerers with our magic-like abilities through the Force,” Obi-Wan nodded patiently.

“What about this War you had? You said it was caused by the secession of star systems from your government, the Republic to the Confederacy and for the War, the Clone Troopers were created for the Republic to be used for battle... but there was another alternative plot beneath it all?” Steve asked, particularly eager about the war they had fought.

“Yes, the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Sheev Palaptine, was actually a Sith Lord who orchestrated the entire War. He wanted the Republic to crumble along with the Jedi Order so he could restore the Sith Empire... and...” Padmé carefully glanced over at Anakin who was now staring at his hands, gripping them tightly.

Padmé frowned softly and then reached forward and put her hand over his, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze.

“Palpatine... Darth Sideous was grooming me for years and nearly seduced me into the dark side of the Force to become his new apprentice...” Anakin announced in a soft voice as he tried to steady himself from lashing out or leaving the room.

“He had chips put in Rex and all of the clones that when activated, would massacre any and all the Jedi they served.” Obi-Wan added, quick to take attention away from Anakin, knowing all-to-well that the revelations of Palpatine’s true nature was a hard pill for his former student to swallow.

The room went silent for a moment, allowing the information they were receiving to float in the air. It was clear that this group had been through hell and back again for the three years that the Clone Wars raged on.

Steve looked at each and every person, taking note of what kind of role they played. Padmé was a senator, the former Queen of her planet Naboo, who didn’t agree with the War from the start. Obi-Wan and Anakin were generals who watched hundreds of soldiers die under their command for a worthless war. Rex was one of those soldiers who didn’t know where his place was without the War and had survived it but not without a few battle scars. And Ahsoka, she was only a child when the War started, now a growing young woman who not only shouldn’t have never stepped foot on a battlefield, but never had a real childhood.

"I still don’t understand how you got here though. I know space is huge, but out of all the planets to land on, you really chose Earth, huh? And New York nontheless!” Tony chuckled lightly, doing his best to make light of the situation.

“It’s possible that during our escape, we got sucked into a wormhole.” Obi-Wan suggested. “There’s been no records of anyone travelling through one before.”

“Yup, now you’ve lost me,” Clint blinked blankly before getting up to walk into the kitchen. “Anyone want some beers? Don’t answer that, because everyone is getting one. We’ve deserved it.”

“Like I said before, there are Separatist sympathizers that want us dead. They hit our hyperspace drive right when Ani put in the coordinates while we were escaping the skirmish and... here we are.”

Clint then returned from the kitchen, handing out beer bottles to everyone before stopping in front of Ahsoka and eyeing her warily. “How old are you anyway?”

“Galactic Standard would have me at 17,” Ahsoka replied as she eyed the beer bottle in his arms. “It’s the legal age to drink in most of the galaxy,”

“Ah, sorry little lady, but the legal drinking age here is 21,” Clint patted the space between her montrals ever-so carefully in a playful manner before continuing to pass out drinks.

Ahsoka scrunched her face together in annoyance and turned her head in the direction of Anakin. “What a bunch of bantha-poodoo! Master, you’ve seen me drink before! Tell the sleemo,”

“Sorry Snips, but if their legal age is different here then...” Anakin shrugged his shoulders to indicate that the situation was simply out of his hands before popping open the top of the beer bottle and taking a sip.

Rex laughed loudly and slapped his hand over his mouth to stifle it. He’s seen his fair share of the Torguta drinking, many times he had to drag her back to base over his shoulder because she was a bit of a lightweight. And if he was going to be honest, this was the peek of entertainment.

The teen crossed her arms over her chest and huffed as she watched him drink. “This sucks, Skyguy.”

“Ah, I’ll have to decline from drinking.” Obi-Wan gestured to his chest. “I’m on medication and I don’t know how well that would mix with alcohol.”

“I can make some tea instead, I don’t drink anyway,” Wanda waved her hand as strings of red floated from her fingertips and towards the kitchen, where the stove turned on and a tea kettle started to bottle.

“Splendid,” Obi-Wan nodded his head in her direction, thankful that they at least had tea here. “Might want to make some for Ahsoka here, she looks like she needs a calming tea.”

Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at the older man in a childish manner. “Oh you think you’re so funny, Master.”

Whilst everyone was busy conversing and sharing stories, Padmé would discreetly pass her beer to Ahsoka, knowing that a few sips couldn’t hurt. The teenage girl was more than happy that the Senator was giving into her whims. Plus, the two have had their fair share of nights spent sharing a bottle of Alderaanian wine towards the end of the War.

Though, this act didn’t go unnoticed by everyone. Tony thought it was funny when he first noticed the exchange, recalling how his first few drinks were at home with Jarvis. He didn’t say anything, just smirked behind his bottle and went on with their night.

[nitewrighter]

would you ever write a drabble for the MEKA squad? Happy holidays!

Tfw you really want to give Overlord they/them pronouns (because nonbinary characters aren’t just robots, Blizzard!!) but the Wiki is he/him, so you’re like “Okay he’s he/they.”

...this originally started out as a one-off gag and then mutated into this. Have fun.

------

It had been a long day of being slumped behind desks while government officials bickered through translators for the Meka squad. They were in Russia for what was supposed to be a “Joint Defense” conference discussing the applications of sharing Meka and Volskaya technology to better defend against the Gwishin and the Siberian Omnium, but communication had quickly broken down. Russia, it turned out, didn’t take too well to Korea granting citizenship to Omnics with only a handful of the EU restrictions (”and not even the UK restrictions!” one politician had blustered.) The Meka squad itself had been scoffed off as “celebrities” and “mascots” and so the day was ending with D.Va, D.Mon, and Casino standing around the hotel lobby. D.Va was scrolling through her phone next to a roaring fireplace while D.Mon stooped over her shoulder,  and Casino leaning against the hotel bar, examining some vodka in a shot glass and ready to pretend it definitely tasted like something other than burning to impress the cute bartender. The three of them perked up at the sound of the lobby elevator dinging and Casino knocked back his drink and suppressed a wince as a blue-clad figure waddled out of the elevator and into the lobby.

“Woah,” D.Mon blinked a few times as she and D.Va walked over.

“What--woah,” said Casino, still blinking a few times through the vodka still burning the back of his throat.

“What?!” muffled the waddling shape in blue.

“Is...uh... that really you under there, Seung-hwa?” D.Va tilted her head, trying to hold in snickers.

“I have a low cold tolerance,” Overlord’s voice was muffled through their scarf. He was a veritable sausage of a long puffer jacket, and apparently heavily layered even under that by the way his arms were spread away from his torso, and clumsily thudding around in heavy boots. A fur-lined trapper hat virtually swallowed their head and nearly all of their face was covered by a scarf.

“You’re T-Posing,” said D.Va.

“I’m not T-posing!” muffled Overlord indignantly

“...I wanna try something,” said Casino, stepping forward.

“Don’t be mean,” said D.Mon, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not,” said Casino.

“What are you doi--” Overlord started but Casino put his hands on the outsides of Overlord’s arms and pressed down, trying to push Overlord’s arms to the sides of their torso. Casino pulled his hands away and Overlord’s arms sprang back to their previous spread position. Casino snorted.

“Ooh! Let me try!” said D.Va, quickly walking up and pressing Overlord’s arms down to their side as well and letting them spring back into place.

“Okay that’s enough--” said D.Mon.

“We should get some selfies in--!” said D.Va.

“Can we just get going?!” said Overlord.

“Can you walk?” said Casino, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes I can walk,” said Overlord.

-----

“Waddled” was a closer word for it.

“...are they still behind us?” said D.Va as she, D.Mon and Casino walked down the sidewalk.

Casino gave a glance back to Overlord practically duckwalking, their arms bouncing slightly at their sides since it apparently took physical effort to move them from their positions in a normal walking manner.

“He’s still behind us,” said Casino, smirking slightly, “Kind of reminds you of those penguin documentaries, March of the Mek--” He got elbowed by D.Mon.

Admittedly as they walked through the streets, all three of them had flashes of jealousy towards Overlord for being so bundled up. Russia had a cold that sank deep past the skin and made them starkly aware of every injury they had ever received in the Meka program, feeling old fissures in bones. It was past Christmas but not yet New Year’s, and lights and decorations still hung on some buildings. The city was a hodgepodge between stately old pre-crisis buildings, more modern skyscrapers, and several massive industrial-looking defense bases armed with massive long-range anti-aircraft turrets. The massive Svyatogors stood sentry at the city’s borders, surveying the city and beyond it with a sort of lumbering casualness that made you believe they were simply fully living giants rather than piloted mechs. D.Va watched as one turned its head slowly.

“...kind of glad the deal fell through,” muttered Casino, following her line of sight, “Can you imagine those ugly things in Busan? Gross.”

“...I could see myself piloting one,” said D.Mon.

“You would,” said Casino.

It wasn’t too long of a walk from their hotel to the park, and King was waiting for them at the wrought iron gate marking its entrance. He was scrolling through his phone while backlit by the blue, white, green, and pink lights being diffracted through the massive ice sculptures dotting the park behind him. The park was noticeably more crowded than the streets, a mix of locals on dates and tourists admiring the ice sculptures.

“What took you guys--” King started but then glanced at Overlord plodding along behind them, “Nice coat.”

“Thanks,” muffled Overlord.

Despite the crowds, the Meka squad’s walk through the park was quiet, pausing to look at different ice sculptures, getting hot smoky tea with a hint of orange peel from a little kiosk. Aside from Casino, who was only wearing earmuffs over his sleeked-back white hair, the five of them pretty much blended into the crowd. The subject matter of the ice sculptures ranged from whimsical and natural forms such as narwhals and giant flowers with real petals and blossoms suspended frozen inside them, to more technically impressive architectural forms of famous buildings from around the world and reproductions of classical sculptures, to a large collection of propagandistic figures of Svyatogors, fresco reproductions of posters, and Omnic crisis heroes. D.Va paused to see a line had formed next to an ice sculpture of a heroically flexing Aleksandra Zaryanova, glowing in pink, with tourists and locals alike eagerly posing and flexing next to it.

“...maybe you’d get a statue if the deal hadn’t fallen through,” D.Mon spoke next to her.

D.Va huffed. “I don’t know if that’s what I want people to remember me for,” she said quietly.

“Mm, yeah saving the city multiple times is nothing compared to the rush of gaming tournaments,” D.Mon said teasingly.

“...gaming tournaments mean everyone’s safe,” said D.Va and the teasing expression on D.Mon’s face was wiped away. Wordlessly, D.Mon slipped her arm through the crook of D.Va’s elbow and pulled her close.

“I know they’re wrong, here,” D.Va went on, “I know the omnics who live in Busan aren’t like the Gwishin--they aren’t the same---but what if the Gwishin finds a way to control them, somehow? There was that incident in Giza...” she shook her head, “But then I feel like a big jerk for thinking that! Like that’s not fair!”

D.Mon just leaned her cheek on the top of D.Va’s head. “I wish I could say there’s an easy answer for it. Most of the time I just worry about flying and keeping the team alive and let everyone else sort that junk out.”

“...we saw how they sort it out,” muttered D.Va, “They don’t. One side wants to put them all in a trash compacter and the other side wants to treat them like people so it all gets broken down country by country, but no matter what we’re all scared. And--I remember being a kid--and my dad taking me down to the basement when the air sirens went off, and giving me his old Fujita-Via with his pirated Starcraft port, and his noise canceling headphones that were too big for me, but I could still feel the house shaking--”

“Hana--” D.Mon squeezed her arm slightly.

But if I kept playing... it felt further away,” said D.Va, “Playing used to make it feel further away.”

“...and now we play to keep them away,” said D.Mon, quietly, “...you’re not alone, you know,” she added.

“I know I’m not--” D.Va started.

“But you’re not the only one who’s gone through stuff like that--that’s literally why we’re all here,” said D.Mon.

D.Va blinked a few times. 

“I’ve been talking to Dae-hyun,” said D.Mon and D.Va gave an exasperated huff, but D.Mon pushed further, “He’s worried, too. That night when you overclocked your reactor---”

“I had it handled!” D.Va said quickly, before catching herself, “We--we had it handled. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without--”

“Without Dae-hyun,” said D.Mon, “And I know it’s different with him, there’s no stupid pro-gamer egos, he’s not in the field like we are---But... is it that unfair of me to ask you to trust us like you trust him?”

D.Va glanced down.

D.Mon pressed her lips against D.Va’s snowflake-flecked hair, more of a nuzzle than a kiss, before gently pulling her along to the next ice sculpture. “At least hang out with us more. We have pit crews, you don’t have to keep pulling late nights tweaking Tokki.”

“Yeah, but I’m--”

“Picky,” D.Mon smiled, smoothing snowflakes away from D.Va’s hair with a smirk, “I know.”

D.Va sighed and leaned against D.Mon, “...I’ll try,” she said, quietly, then thought for a second, “I’ll make it a New Year’s resolution! Hang out with you guys more! Get away from the garage...”

They were making their way to an art nouveau-looking sculpture of a woman holding a pouring out swirling water when their comms buzzed. D.mon pulled her comm from her pocket.

“Guys, we need to regroup,” Casino said on the other end.

“What’s going on?” said D.Mon, “Call from headquarters or--?”

“Casino lost Overlord and we accidentally kidnapped a small Russian lesbian,” King’s voice sounded flatly on the other line.

“You lost Overlord too!” Casino argued.

“What--” D.Mon stammered, “How did you--”

“Just meet us back at the narwhal,” said Casino, before clicking out of the call.

D.Va and D.Mon exchanged glances.

“We don’t have to--” D.Mon started.

“Yes we do,” said D.Va, squeezing D.Mon’s arm and dragging her through the crowd. The narwhal sculpture was back towards the front of the park, and the crowds made it slow going, but they were able to find Casino, King, and what looked like Overlord’s heavily-layered t-posing figure next to them.

“What do you mean you lost Overlord?” said D.Mon, “They’re right--”

The figure, with some effort given the thick layers of their clothes, took off their trapper hat to shake off a shaggy asymmetrical bob and pulled down their scarf to reveal a convex nose.

“Not Overlord,” said D.Va.

The girl with the shaggy bob said something in Russian and pointed at Casino.

“We got into a really dense crowd back at the svyatogor sculpture,” said King, “My audio translator app says she thought Casino was her girlfriend from behind.”

“It’s mistranslating ‘girlfriend,’” said Casino, flatly.

“It’s really not,” said King.

“...which means Overlord must be following someone he thought was Casino!” said D.Va.

“Stunning powers of deduction,” said King, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, where was the last place you saw your girlfriend before?” said Casino, looking at the girl.

King rapidly tapped something into his phone. “G’dyeh te pahsled--” he started reading before going, “Fuck it--” and hit a button on his comm. The phone fired off a phrase in Russian and the girl shrugged. She paused, then said something questioning in Russian and pointed at D.Va.

“Can you say that again?” said King holding his phone up to her.

The girl repeated her question more slowly and the phone translated the phrase, “Is that D.Va, from the holos?”

“...uh...” D.Mon seemed hesitant to reveal their identities after such comfortable anonymity but D.Va cut in.

“Yes, I’m D.Va, do you know where our friend is?” she said, and the phone translated for her.

The girl almost squealed but managed to control herself and cleared her throat. “Big fan,” she managed in thickly accented english, gesturing at herself.

“Look just text Overlord and we’ll get this mess cleared up,” said D.Mon, looking at King.

“We’ve been texting them. No answer. I don’t think they can feel the comm buzzing through that coat,” said Casino.

“Look, I’m sure he’s already figured it out and is on his way back to us,” said D.Mon, “Overlord pilots the most complex mech out of all of us, he can control the movements of 27 airborne mini-drones simultaneously, I’m pretty sure he would notice pretty quickly if he was following some Russian chick and not Casino.”

All of their phones buzzed at once and they flipped them open to see their groupchat.

0verl0rd: HELP.

0verl0rd: ON A TRAIN.

0verl0rd: RUSSIAN LADY WASN’T CASINO.

0verl0rd: DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING.

DeeVaaaaaa: WHY ARE YOU ON A TRAIN!? 

K1ng_Soo: Literally when did we say we would get on a train.

0verl0rd: I DON’T KNOW I WAS JUST ROLLING WITH IT.

0verl0rd: NOT CASINO LADY IS YELLING AT ME IN RUSSIAN NOW.

Casi_no: How did you not notice they were speaking Russian before?

0verl0rd: THIS HAT IS REALLY THICK AND IT WAS HARD ENOUGH KEEPING UP.

Yuna-Mon: Okay just stay calm and stay where you are.

Overlord: AGAIN I’M ON A TRAIN.

The Meka squad glanced up from the group chat and looked at Overlord’s thick-coat look-alike, whose phone suddenly buzzed. Through the thickness of her own coat it took her some effort to pull it out and answer it. They watched as she argued in Russian for several minutes, then turned to talking very quickly in Russian for another, minute, then laughing, then she gave a glance to the Meka squad, cupped a mittened hand over her mouth and spoke into the phone a bit more quietly and excitedly, before apparently reaching a satisfying conclusion, peppering in what sounded like a dozen pet names, and then ended the call. She gestured at King to hold his phone up to her and spoke Russian into his translator app.

“My Nadenka and your friend are heading to Vasily’s--our usual spot in Dumskaya,” the translator app’s automated voice made her easy tone sound much more halting, “You can pick him up there. Maybe grab drinks, yes? Big Meka fans! We love D.Va!”

King was apparently feverishly web-searching Dumskaya but D.Va said, “Great! Lead the way!”

The girl patted her mitten against her thick coat, “Uliana,” she said,

“...Hana,” said D.Va.

The girl made another high-pitched sound but caught herself, cleared her throat, and managed to get control of herself again. “Come on!” she said, waving them across the park. D.Va and Casino followed, but King and D.Mon hung back, slightly.

“Sounds like a recipe to wake up in a bathtub full of ice,” muttered King under his breath.

“I’m sure they don’t need ice with all this snow,” said D.Mon with a slight smirk. “It’s going to be fine.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well I guess there will be a messy international incident concerning the ransoming and eventual brutal murders of Korea’s primary anti-Gwishin defense force, is that the conclusion you want me to jump to?” said D.Mon.

King opened his mouth, then furrowed his brow and readjusted his glasses.

“We grab Overlord and get out,” he said firmly.

“Mm-hmm,” D.Mon nodded her head.

-----

Vasily’s was a dive bar but it wasn’t a dive bar. It was warmly lit, had a handful of floral-patterned Slavic tchotchkes, some granny-chic doilies that suggested the place served lunch and tea, and a long garland of fake pine dotted with pink ornaments trailing along the wall. There was definitely a lived-in feeling to the place, but it was offset by an almost persnickety cleanliness. As King pushed the door open, he readjusted his glasses, finding the bar brighter than expected. It was virtually empty, but Overlord was sitting at the bar, having shed his thick coat with the trapper hat in his lap. He was apparently gesturing with several overturned shot glasses on the bar counter and talking to... Casino?

King gave a quick glance to Casino, who was still standing next to him, then glance back at Overlord and his bleach-blonde companion and snorted as she turned her head.

“She does look like you from behind,” he said to Casino.

“Shut up,” said Casino.

“Nadenka!” Uliana called out and then excitedly pointed at D.Va before unzipping her own thick puffer coat and hurrying over for a pecking cheek kiss from Nadenka.

“Sorry for mix-up, Meka Squad,” Nadenka looked over at the four of them.

“You speak english?” said King.

Nadenka made an ‘eeehhhh’ gesture with her hand, “Not very good,” she said with a shrug, and then elbowed Uliana, “Better than this one, though. She didn’t tell you?”

“Ah!” Uliana scoffed, “Hey!” She admonished her in Russian but Nadenka just gave her a smug smirk. 

“I was telling her about that amphibious gwishin mech back in the fall, remember that?” Overlord swung around on their barstool, eyes bright, “The crawler?”

“Yes, we all remember the crawler,” King said quickly, “Now, we should get back to the hotel, before you wander off after another random woman who looks like Casino from behind--”

“But I’m not finished yet!” said Overlord.

“Is true,” said Nadenka, “I want to hear rest of story. I think little blue guy should be D.Va, yeah?”

Uliana gasped as if her girlfriend had just spoken blasphemy, but Overlord just beamed smugly and D.Va snickered a little. 

“...we can stay for the story,” said D.Mon.

“What?” said King, “But--”

“And shots,” said Casino.

“Shots!?” King repeated.

“They got snacks, here?” said D.Va, “Kind of want something salty.”

“Hana--!” King was pressing his fingertips to his forehead but Uliana was already flagging down the exhausted looking bald bartender and feverishly talking to him in Russian. D.Va was able to make out the words ‘D.Va’ and ‘Meka Squad’ in her rapid rant. Within seconds shot glasses and little doily-skirted opened mason jars of pickles were being set out on the bar. “...this isn’t happening,” muttered King, but D.Mon just bumped her shoulder into him. 

“Come on,” she said, “Think of it as... ‘regional immersive research for the Meka program’s future collaborative efforts.’“

“...I’m writing all of you up to our CO,” said King flatly before Casino held out a filled shot glass to him and he sullenly took it. 

“Is this that glitz and glamour you guys are always heading off to?” said D.Va, pushing herself up onto a barstool. 

“It might be,” said D.Mon grinning and taking a barstool next to her, “If you came with us more often.”

“New year’s resolution,” said D.Va, crunching one of the bar pickles.

[smegdwarf]

But Who Could Love Me? (Rimmer X Reader) - Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry for the delay!

Warnings: so much fluff!

Summary: basically giving Rimmer the love he deserves :P

1900 rolled round and Ace had rallied up Lister, Kryten and Cat for the ‘trip’ unbeknownst to you as you read quietly in your bunk. It was then that you realized you hadn’t heard from Rimmer for a few hours but before you could think about where he could be you felt a slight rumble through your room. Looking out of the window in instinct you weren’t expecting to see Starbug flying away from the dwarf. Who just left and why didn’t they let you know?

“RIMMER? LISTER?” You shouted as you walked round the eerily quiet ship “KRYTES?”

Just as you reached the next floor you bumped into one of the scutters.

“Hey Bob where is everyone?” You asked the little robot in front of you as he made some sort of gesture that you soon realized was to follow him “Where are you taking me?”

After walking across another floor and a long trip in the lift you finally reached the officers club, confused and a little tired you called out for an answer.

“Hello? Anyone up here?” You asked as the doors to the club opened “One of the scutters directed me up here, does anyone know what’s going...”

As the door fully opened you were greeted by a table fully set up for a meal, subtle piano music playing in the background courtesy of Holly and Rimmer looking very prim and proper in a suit, his cheeks flushing red as his hands fumbled behind his back.

“Arnie?” You couldn’t help but smile.

“Erm would you care to join me?” Rimmer stuttered a little.

“Is this a date?” You smirked a little as Rimmer continued to blush.

“Maybe ...will you join me?” Rimmer asked again as you let out a quiet laugh.

“Wait I need to change” You smiled as you stepped back out of the officers club along the corridor to change.

“Y/N?” Rimmer called after you, his breath catching in his throat as you reappeared “Wow!”

“It seemed only right that I dress up too” You replied with a twirl, showing off your dress.

“You look stunning” Rimmer smiled sweetly as he took a step over to you, taking his hands in yours before placing a gentle kiss to your cheek “Shall we?”

Far too interested in what was going on around you as Rimmer took you over to the table to sit down you didn’t think to ask where everyone else was. Once the meal was fully underway you finally got to ask some questions.

“How’s the food so far?” Rimmer asked taking a sip of his wine as you nodded.

“Delicious!” You smiled “What made you do all this?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you” Rimmer spoke quietly.

“And how did you manage to pull this off without the others becoming suspicious?” You raised your eyebrow, making Rimmer cough a little on the mouthful of food he had just eaten.

“I had a little help” Rimmer kept his eyes down on his plate.

“Help?” You asked “Where is everyone else anyway?”

“Ace offered to take them on a ‘boys trip’ without me and they jumped at it” Rimmer started to smile a little “His exact words were ‘to give you two some alone time’”

“You took advice from Ace?” You smirked as Rimmer’s cheeks turned a familiar shade of pink.

“Alright make your jokes” Rimmer chuckled.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing” You smiled “So who’s idea was all of this?”

“Well erm ...that was mine” Rimmer’s eyes darted to the side “I know I could’ve probably taken you on a more exciting first date, like somewhere on the VR system or the botanical gardens...”

“Arnie this is perfect” You reached out for Rimmer’s hand across the table, holding it gently in his hand and bringing it to his lips like he did the night you first kissed.

“I’m glad you like it, I was a little worried you’d think it was stupid” Rimmer mumbled.

“Why would you think that?” You smiled at him sweetly before standing from your seat and walking over to Rimmer, holding your hands out for him “Take my hands”

“What are you doing?” Rimmer asked cautiously and nervously.

“Just take my hands, it’s ok” You let out a soft laugh as he did as you asked, now standing in front of you still baffled by what you were doing.

“Why are we standing?” He asked again as you turned to the screen next to you.

“Hol, could you put a slow song on for us please?” You asked as panic set on Rimmer’s face.

“Please don’t make me dance, I can’t dance, I’ve basically got two left feet” Rimmer rambled in panic as you cupped his face in your hands.

“Hey, breathe, there’s nothing to worry about” You spoke softly as Rimmer took a deep breath and the music started playing.

“But I don’t know what I’m doing” Rimmer mumbled as you moved one of his hands to your waist while you entwined your fingers with the other, letting your free hand rest gently on his shoulder.

“Just follow me” You smiled reassuringly as you both began to sway gently to the music.

Despite everything the two of you had done over the past month or so of dating, this was a different level of intimacy that Rimmer had never experienced, his touch light almost as if he was scared of breaking or hurting you but it was then that Ace’s words from earlier ran through his mind again, he had nothing to lose but everything to gain. As you let go of his hand to rest it on his shoulder his fell to your waist without a second thought, his touch much more present as he pulled you closer, your bodies against one another and so close both of you could’ve sworn you felt warmth from one another.

“You’re doing great” You reassured him as you caught him looking down at floor.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you when we first met” Rimmer mumbled.

“Hey, it’s fine” You smiled as you moved your hand to his cheek, gently running your thumb back and forth “It’s all in the past, you don’t need to worry about it anymore”

“I think I was just scared of what I was feeling, I’ve never felt like this before” Rimmer smiled, melting into the touch of your hand “Not to this extent”

“I get that, you know it’s ok to be scared sometimes?” You replied “And anyway look where we are now?”

“I’m still convinced this a dream” Rimmer chuckled as you realized you had stopped moving and were both enjoying the moment you were in.

“Well would your dream include that?” You smiled, pointing to the screen to see Holly dancing and swaying.

“Definitely not” Rimmer chuckled, his arms still firmly wrapped around you.

“Hol what are you doing?” You asked.

“What does it look I’m doing? I’m dancing” Holly replied with a straight face.

“With who?” Rimmer laughed.

“Myself obviously” Holly furrowed his brows.

“Holly?” You smiled.

“What?” The senile computer was starting to throw a strop.

“You’re a goit!” You smirked as Rimmer let out another laugh.

“I love you!” Rimmer chuckled as he held you tighter against him, resting your head against his chest, the sound of his light bee gently humming away inside him was almost more comforting than a heartbeat.

“Arnie?” You spoke softly as you looked up at him.

“Yes?” Rimmer looked at you concerned.

“Do you know what you just told me?” You smiled sweetly as he realized “You just told me you love me!”

“It felt right” Rimmer smiled as he leant into kiss you, your stomach full of butterflies as Rimmer took control “I do love you, more than anything”

“I love you too Arnie” You smiled before bringing him into another kiss.

“Alright get a room” Holly grumbled as you and Rimmer laughed.

“Holly shut up!” Rimmer smiled as you remained in his embrace.

“Rude!” Holly stuck his tongue as you laughed.

A drink or two more as well as dessert and you were more than ready for your bed.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked Rimmer as he continued to smile at you, the same way he had done the entire evening.

“Nothing why?” Rimmer replied as you raised your eyebrow.

“I’ve never seen you smile so much” It was true, you hadn’t seen him smile as much as he had in the last couple of hours with you.

“You make me happy, is that not ok?” Rimmer started to panic again.

“It’s just nice to see you this happy that’s all” You smiled reassuringly, you knew this was always something you were going to have to do with Rimmer but it didn’t bother you in the slightest, it just made you love him more.

“Would you mind if I walked you back to your quarters?” Rimmer blushed a little as he asked.

“Such a gentleman” You smirked a little “You know you don’t need to ask”

“My lady?” Rimmer teased as he held out his hand.

“Ok now you’re taking the smeg” You laughed as the two of started your walk back towards your quarters.

Making the most of the empty ship, you walked hand in hand, talking and enjoying the alone time you had been given. After the evenings events you couldn’t help but wonder why no one else was willing to give Rimmer a chance.

“I know I’ve said this before but thank you for giving me a chance” Rimmer had read your mind as you came to stop just before your quarters “I don’t normally get a second look”

“Well every girl that has turned you down doesn’t know what they’re missing out on” You smiled sweetly “Are you coming in?”

“I guess I could stay for a little while” Rimmer replied quietly as if it was the first time he had been in your quarters.

“When will Ace bring the others back?” You asked as walked over to your bunk.

“I’m not sure why?” Rimmer replied as he nervously sat down next to you.

“Just curious that’s all ...hey why don’t we finish our evening with a movie night?” You suggested, gently placing your hand on the thigh of the hologram sitting next to you.

“Oh go on then” Rimmer gave in almost instantly, not that it would’ve taken a lot to break him down.

“Well let’s get ready then” You smiled as you both stood up snapping your fingers as both you and Rimmer changed into comfier clothing. Not long after you started dating Rimmer you patched in a modification in the holo suite to change clothes with a click of your fingers instead of having to ask Holly.

“Hang on, these aren’t my normal comfies” Rimmer looked down at himself in just a t-shirt and his underwear.

“Just trying something different” You gave him a wink as you went back to your bunk and pulled back the blanket “Come on”

“Will we both fit in your bunk?” Rimmer raised an eyebrow not quite getting the hint and being somewhat distracted by the cami top and shorts you were now wearing.

“Just sit your butt down already” You laughed softly as he finally joined you “You know you can stay the night if you really want too?”

“What if the others come back and find us?” Rimmer spoke quietly as you held his cheek in your hand slowly bringing him into a kiss.

“You know we’re going to have to tell them someday” You smiled between kisses, earning a slight grumble from Rimmer.

“I guess” Rimmer sighed, his eyes locked in yours, taking every detail of your face as his hands found your waist, tugging you closer as he brought you into the most passionate kiss he had ever given you, slowly laying you down as he now hovered over you “What happened to the movie?”

“I don’t know you tell me” You smiled, Rimmer chuckled his eyes still fixated on you.

“You’re a bad influence you know that?” Rimmer teased, he hadn’t had anywhere near enough alcohol to be even remotely drunk but he was completely and totally love drunk, grinning from ear to ear as he leant into kiss you again as you reached up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“What’s happening dudes?” Holly appeared on the screen at the foot of your bunk making the pair of jump.

“HOLLY!” You squeaked as Rimmer fell down beside you “What did we say about talking to us on this screen?”

One afternoon you and Kryten embarked on fitting a small screen at the end of your bunk, unbeknown to the droid, to make your movie nights with Rimmer easier and you had made a deal with Holly that he was to only appear on the other screen in the room or use his voice only to avoid awkward interruptions ...just like the one he just made.

“Haha this is awkward” Holly gave you both an awkward grin.

“Well bog off then!” You tried to shoo him but you knew it was a wasted effort as he faded out “Where were we?”

“I think I remember” Rimmer spoke quietly as he smiled sweetly, leaning in to kiss you once more only to be interrupted once again by Holly.

“I feel like a loose end now” Holly complained.

“Haven’t you got something you could read?” Rimmer asked, starting to get a little ticked off.

“I’ve read them all” Holly sighed.

“Again?” Rimmer grumbled.

“Alright fine, Holly could pick a movie for us please?” You sighed as you gave the senile computer a task.

“Sure can dudes” Holly smiled as the movie started to play.

Knowing that you were likely to get interrupted by Holly again you decided instead to settle down, scooting as close to Rimmer as you possibly could in the tiny bunk as he lay next to you a little befuddled. With your head resting gently on his chest and your arm draped across his middle, Rimmer finally followed suit, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and holding your hand with the other. The soft sound of his light bee humming in your ear, the calmest and most tranquil it had probably ever been in his entire holo existence, slowly and gently lulled you to sleep as he delicately played with your hair, taking in every bit of you as you slept peacefully beside him.

[echodrops]

Home and a Half Pidge Headcanons

An ask I got yesterday reminded me that I never posted the HaaH headcanons for Pidge like I promised, so here they are! (I’ll answer the actual ask as soon as I can with some new material instead of headcanons I already had written... oops...)

Anyway, without further ado, some headcanons for Pidge related to my fic Home and a Half!

Pidge:

- Grew up in the picture of the nuclear family: mom, dad, two kids, dog, nice upper-middle-class house in a quiet neighborhood, dinner on the table at 7:30pm on the dot… Of all the paladins, Pidge had the most stable and “average” childhood… at least on paper.

 - In reality, there is not a single person in the Holt family who isn’t eccentric as fuck. Grandma Holt? May or may not still be an active intelligence agent for MI6. The dog? Woofs in Morse code. Auntie Ariana? Has actually seen the Jersey Devil. Colleen Holt? Has killed a man. If you ask Pidge, she’ll say that her upbringing was perfectly normal and she’ll genuinely mean it, but this is a consequence Pidge having no idea what “normal” even means.

 Rest under the read more to save your dash:

- Not actually a girly-girl when she was young. Although they’re eight years apart and thus unlikely to be mistaken for one another, very early on Pidge got frustrated by how similar she and Matt look, and she definitely did not want to wear his tacky hand-me-down clothes, so she pitched a royal fit and insisted on wearing dresses and hairbands so that her family would have to buy Pidge all her own things. (They probably would have bought them anyway if she’d just asked calmly, but Pidge was three at the time, and they were all very impressed by her grasp of cause and effect.)

 - Of course, when Matt disappeared on the ill-fated Kerberos trip, those tacky hand-me-downs ended up being some of the most important items in Pidge’s life. Even outside of infiltrating Garrison, wearing Matt’s old clothes was one of the few comforts Pidge would allow herself—when she cut her hair and put on his baggy shirts, for a second, looking in a mirror, she could almost convince herself he was still there—

 - Pidge has no intention of changing the way she dresses or styles her appearance until she’s reunited with Matt and her father. After that? Well, they may not be the coolest looking things ever, but Matt does have a point that baggy t-shirts are very comfy…

 - And okay, because I’m sure everyone expected this headcanon first: Pidge and gender is a surprisingly uncomplicated subject. Side note before I go further: I’m sure everyone has their own headcanons for this and none of what I say here should be taken as rejecting or invalidating any other fan’s views on Pidge. The only thing invalid in the Voltron fandom is canon. Anyway, I personally like to imagine that Pidge is very ambivalent on gender. There is so much else going on—the war, Sam and Matt being missing, freaking giant robot space cats—that sitting down and sorting out the question of “Do I identify as male, female, nonbinary, or anything else?” is just really, really low on Pidge’s to do list. Pidge thinks of Pidge as “Pidge” and even that’s rare because Pidge doesn’t sit around thinking about herself or what other people think of her.

 - In fact, what strangers think is, in general, extremely low on Pidge’s radar. Although she used to be more self-conscious due to bullying from both classmates and her teachers, the combination of her parents’ consistent support and Matt’s… extreme tactics (“I’m telling you Pigeon, nanobots in their lunches will solve all your problems.” “That’s illegal, Matt.” “Nothing is illegal until you get caught.”) Pidge (mostly) overcame the phase of being affected by other people’s opinions. Who cares what strangers think? Absolutely none of them will ever be even close to as smart and talented as her family anyway. (My IQ is three times yours, your argument about my gender is literally invalid.)

 - By the way, I’m using “her” simply because that’s what I’m used to seeing in the fandom and to keep the fic and headcanons consistent, but in the functional world of HaaH, Pidge answers to any pronouns and doesn’t have a preference for any set in particular over others. In fact, Pidge is used to going by different sets of pronouns coming from different people, and might be “he” to one person, “she” to another, and “they” to yet someone else. Pidge is just… Pidge.

 - Again, with the war and Voltron and missing family and literally everything else going on--and the fact Pidge is far more practical than all of the rest of her fellow Team Voltron members combined--she isn’t wasting time and energy doing something as troublesome as falling in love with an alien. (“Keith, can’t your melodrama wait until after we win the war?” “My drama waits for no man.” “Then please explain how you and Lance manage to engage in synchronized dumb-fuckery at least three times a week.”) Eventually, after life has settled down and Pidge has had some time to think about it, she’ll realize that the reason she somehow managed to avoid any romantic entanglements in space isn’t because she’s just much more mature than her teammates (although this might be true)—it’s that she’s just not really interested in romantic engagements with anybody, period. 

 - Pidge’s one true love is discovery; she feels far more passionate about knowledge and learning new things, encountering new puzzles, and grasping new concepts than she does about anything else. In between all her creations and codes and experiments and observations, it just doesn’t feel like there’s room—or that there needs to be room—for a romantic relationship with a real person.

 - Pidge will make room for friends though, if and when they insist on worming their ways into her life. She tends to be a fairly private person who has never really had a large friend group (back on Earth, before Garrison, there wasn’t anyone but Matt and her parents who really understood her, and she didn’t have much in common to discuss with children her own age), but once someone earns Pidge’s trust, she does open up and form close bonds and she will give her all to help and be there for her few, but close, friends.

 - Meeting Hunk at Garrison was a huge revelation. Up to that point in Pidge’s life she had never really met any young person outside her own family with a soaring genius-level IQ that was a match for her own. Although she and Hunk bicker frequently because their approaches to science are extremely different, she’s still over-the-moon to have someone who doesn’t stare at her like she’s talking gibberish whenever she goes off on one of her tangents.

 - If you ask Pidge, she will violently swear up and down that Lance never and in. no. way. reminds her of Matt, fills in for Matt in the lame-older-brother role, or helps her miss her brother just a little bit less. That did not happen, never had a chance of happening, what are you even talking about—

 - But if you ask about Shiro, she will be flat-out honest and admit she totally thinks of him as Space Dad. It’s not her fault. Shiro literally hero worships Sam Holt (still to this day!!) and may or may not have taken on more of his mentor’s mannerisms in order to fill the leadership role for Team Voltron. Sometimes Shiro will say or do something and Pidge will be absolutely dumb-struck because he got that from my dad is an actual thing she has to deal with.

- “Pidge” is actually a derivative of “Pigeon.” Everyone in the Holt family has a bird-based code name. Mr. Holt is Eagle Two.

 - People often get the impression that Pidge is scatterbrained because she can talk about ten different things at once and pounces on leaps in her own logic that other people just can’t follow, but her thoughts and speech are very organized. It’s not her fault you couldn’t understand her system of organization if you tried.

 - Put Pidge on the spot on a subject she doesn’t know, though, and watch the awkward jump right out. (“Oh, you meant the pop band Galileo, not the person. You know, that’s really an easy mistake to make. You can hardly blame me when you stop to consider all the similarities between modern chord progression and the trajectory of supermassive objects like—”)

 - And if it’s not awkward, it’s defensive. Pidge may be hyper-intelligent, but she’s still very, very young, and it’s hard not to get snappish when challenged by people whose opinions she really does care about. She has a far quicker temper than Matt (who is a “revenge is a dish best served cold” champion), a trait she shares with their mother. Colleen, in turn, blames it on her having been born in New Jersey. Pidge has flipped so many tables on the Castleship that Coran and Lance eventually went around and bolted them all down.

 - Do not even so much as hint that Sam and Matt Holt might be dead instead of just missing in space. Keith is still scared after his last attempt at reasoning with Pidge about her family’s fate.

 - Has a bad hoarding habit. Back on Earth she had her parents there to insist she clean her room at least once a week, but in space, things are getting a bit crazy. The Castleship closets and cabinets can hyper-condense their contents and she’s STILL running out of room for all the neat doodads and parts and scientific wonders she finds on their adventures across the galaxy. Is definitely in the “Look, there’s still a mostly clear path to the door; it’s fineee” category. It’s not like she finds it hard to let things go once she’s gotten attached to them or anything. Nope. Definitely not.

 - Pidge’s mess is absolutely of the “everything has a proper place” type though. Move anything with her name on it and you will feel her wrath.

- As the only one of the Earth paladins to have technology on her when they were unexpectedly swept off to war, everyone on the ship relies on Pidge’s laptop for their monthly dose of Earth nostalgia. Good thing for them Pidge and Matt’s pirating skills put Pirate Bay to shame, and she’s got basically every Earth movie from 1980 to the present. She even has every episode of the timeless classic F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Keith hates that show with a burning passion that even he cannot explain.)

 - Speaking of technology Pidge had on Earth—every single person in the Holt family is (and has been for decades) aware of the existence of aliens. Pidge’s family tree has been involved in communications, radio wave technology, and interpreting space observations since those fields were first invented. When Earth first identified patterns of waves that obviously corresponded to alien communications going on outside Earth’s galaxy, Pidge’s great- great- grandfather was there. When world governments covered up the discovery, he was the loudest voice of dissent. Since then, the Holt family has been deeply involved in military and space operations across several countries, operating from within an oppressive system they fundamentally disagree with, using their positions of authority to monitor the Milky Way and beyond, keeping tabs on what the aliens might be saying—and what messages Earth might be inadvertently sending back.

 - Of course this is top secret work—secret even from the Garrison and government where the Holts were employed. Other kids learn how to play piano and soccer; Pidge and Matt learned how to hack virtually impenetrable military databases and hide their data behind uncrackable ciphers instead.

 - But the Kerberos Mission was supposed to be safe. They’d all monitored the chatter so closely—there hadn’t been anything hostile anywhere even near Earth’s galaxy, no sign at all of any technologically advanced race like the Galra in years and nothing about one little Earth mission that would disturb any other intergalactic travelers anyway… Why would they...

 - Pidge is surprisingly athletic for a self-professed nerd. With youthful energy to burn and a family to save, Pidge took to Allura and Coran’s intense Altean training like a duck to water, and while she’s not quite Shiro or Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she can definitely holds up better than Hunk or Lance.

 - Favorite color is actually yellow, and if Green wasn’t totally The Coolest™ lion, she’d be sort of salty about Hunk getting the Yellow Lion instead.

 - Absolutely capable of cursing up a blue storm, and hasn’t been friends with Hunk quite long enough yet to remember to censor herself around him all the time like Lance does with his “Holy crow!”s. She’s trying, dammit!

 - Big on pets. Gets attached to pet-shaped creatures (whether living or robotic) very easily. 110% kept the space caterpillars, who live happily free-roaming the piles of space junk in her bedroom. The space caterpillars and the space mice do not get along, however, as the space mice do not take well to having their status as the favored fuzzy team mascot squad threatened. In their micro-Cold War, which is occurring without any of the ship’s humanoid occupants being aware, the space caterpillars are currently winning.

 - The caterpillars’ names are Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton.

 - Remember that one post about Lance drawing angry brows on the space caterpillar and siccing it on Keith? I very much accept that as canon. Pidge was Not Happy™ when she found out what Lance had done and she is NOT letting anyone else near her caterpillars again any time soon. Is very, very careful not to let Niresh see the space caterpillars so that they don’t end up stolen right from under her nose.

 - Speaking of the kids, Pidge is super awkward with them and skedaddles at the first sign of tears. Next to Allura, there is probably not any member of the team worse suited to babysitting duty. That said, as someone who has lost members of her family in the war, Pidge is probably the member of the team who most directly understands Dulsara’s anger and the children’s loss. That doesn’t mean she’s really ready to let herself sympathize with the Galra though, at least not until she finds her own family first.

- Pulls all the most bullshit moves in Monsters and Mana. Whenever the team reminiscences on the truly legendary moments from their campaigns, somehow Pidge is the star in all of them.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!

[lisatelramor]

Be a Better Me

Hi, I’m back with angst fic. >_>

So with COVID19 going on I 1) had more time to write + 2) have had a bit more background anxiety with the world, and stress + time = angstfic for me most of the time. So this got written in about a  month. Instead of any of my WIPs =_=;;;;; Hope other people are up for some angst. Either way I'm being sent back to work next week so I'm glad it chose to finish when it did.

This was 100% inspired by @ickaimp's Robo!Kaito fic and has probably low key kicked around my brain for years since I read it back in like 2011.

Chapter 1

His arm aches. Kaito flexes his hand, blood running down from the bullet graze that feels like fire. The robot that impersonated him is wires and synthetic skin smoking in a pile. He feels sick in his stomach, both from almost dying after a few days trapped in a lab and because he’d just seen something that had run around with his face blow its own head off.

It’s just a robot, but it’d thought it was human. It’d thought it was him, had seen his memories, just hadn’t quite been human enough to understand life, death, or morals. What kind of sick fuck made something like that?

Kaito shudders. His hand flexes again. Bandages. He needs bandages, and maybe stitches, or maybe to just. Go lie down.

His skin doesn’t feel quite right but that’s the shock probably. A lot’s happened in a couple days’ time. Like finding out someone with his face killed someone. A creepy scientist who also kidnapped Kaito, but yeah. How anything that had Kaito’s memories and personality could do that… He shudders again.

Kaito isn’t a megalomaniac in disguise right? He has lines and morals and things he’d never do in a million years, even if some of his morals are grayer than others. He doesn’t hurt people. Not physically permanent. And not any other way if he can help it.

Blood drips from his fingertips.

There’s a laboratory burning down with a corpse of a man who tried to make a man from metal out there and Kaito doesn’t want anything more to do with it.

He turns away. He has a gem to return and a budding reputation to save.

o*O*o

He feels weird for a while after that. It’s the trauma probably. Kaito can’t say his life has ever been normal. His father was a stage magician, both his parents turned out to be thieves, and he puts on a white suit to stir up shadows to try and find out why his father was murdered. That’s hardly the sort of thing a teenager usually goes through, but killer robots and kidnapping were new. His balance a bit off for a day? He spent two days strapped to a table. His arm took a bit to work right? He did get grazed by a bullet. Swimming takes a bit more effort than the last time he did it? Not weird since he generally avoids swimming in the ocean if he can. Aoko’s mop swings seem a little slower? He’s kind of hyper aware of attacks lately, so he’s just paying more attention.

Things are different but not that different so it’s just his head being weird about it all. Life goes on, he stops feeling a bit off and he keeps on going as usual. Bait Aoko, play like a good student, perform magic, and pull of the next heist. Simple.

But then there’s suddenly a magic wielding witch and a detective trying to sniff him out, and life just keeps getting weirder. He doesn’t remember it being this strange before he became Kid, but it must have been at least a little weird. It’s just that practicing magic and acrobatics with Aoko and actual magic and jumping off buildings are very different things. It’s a miracle he’s managed not to break anything. What with the roller coaster, or jumping off buildings, or getting shot at, or ghost(?) pirates, or being attacked by a hoard of hairy rats… Yeah. Life is weird.

So if Kaito’s a little weird in it, well, he fits right in, now doesn’t he?

o*O*o

Kaito’s chest is aching and there’s a nasty bruise forming. He supposes that’s what happens when a gem blocks a bullet. It’s yet another miracle the sapphire didn’t shatter let alone that the bullet hit it instead of him at all. Aoko liked her birthday gift but it had taken all Kaito had to set that up for her and he’s dead on his feet now.

He might have a cracked rib too. He winces, easing off the costume. It has a hole—two really where the bullet deflected—that will need patched and the usual bleach treatments to keep it white. White is the worst color for climbing around rooftops and crawlspaces. He’d change it if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s one of Kid’s signature identifiers at this point. Thanks, Oyaji.

The bruise is worse than he first thought when he gets his shirt off. Mottled purple all along the left side of his chest. Like someone took a wooden mallet to him.

Thankfully there’s an x-ray machine down in Kid’s hideaway. It’s old and definitely not something he’s going to ever use much because, well, radiation, but he’d rather know if he’s managed to break a rib or not so he knows how much acrobatics he can get away with.

It takes a bit to set up and a bit longer to figure out how to get everything to work, but fifteen minutes later he’s got x-ray film developing in a little darkroom off to the side because apparently his dad had a little bit of everything thought out down here. He loves and hates it in equal measures sometimes.

He sighs, feeling the deep breathing ache, and looks at the forming image. And frowns.

He’s not a medical expert, far from it, but he has a general run down of the human body and has seen x-rays before. What Kaito’s looking at? Not what he’d expect to see. There’s ribs, yes, but they’re not quite right, and too dark. Then there’s all the metal. It’s like his nervous system is registering as wires, radiating out like something from one of his textbooks, same with the circulatory system that’s a bit too dark on the film. Should he even be seeing that? Heart, maybe, but branching signs of the rest of his veins and arteries? His lungs aren’t the right shape. The vague shadows of organs aren’t right either. And there’s… there’s the shadow of screws and pins and mechanical bits that shouldn’t be there. There’s wires instead of tendons that shouldn’t be showing and he has to stare.

His chest throbs and he looks down at it. Bruising. At the film. Barely resembling something human. He hurts. Aches. Yet there in front of him is mechanical parts.

Feeling like he’s floating, or maybe sinking, Kaito plucks one of his razor cards from its deck. He slides it along his finger. Skin parts, blood wells up, pain registers dimly.

But is it blood?

It drips, just a few drops, already clotting as he stares. It’s red as any blood he’s seen. The pain is real. And yet. He looks at the film.

Kaito hasn’t thought about the robot in months. Why would he? It’s over and done. He’d read a police report about the lab in the paper. About the body found and the equipment sitting in police evidence for ages as the murder case went cold. They didn’t know to look for a robot. And the robot had been left for scrap. Kaito doesn’t know what had happened to its remains.

There hadn’t been a second body found.

He looks back at his hand and finds it shaking.

The robot’s face had peeled off, but when he tugs at his cheek he just feels pain. Same with his hair. He feels. He eats and shits and sleeps and bleeds. His breath is coming too fast and it hurts.

It’s a mistake, right? He could take another scan and it’d be normal. Human. He could scan his hand and it would be bone and tendons and the ghost of muscle, not wire and metal joints that would make a prosthetic expert weep. Not too-dark veins and tendrils of nerves that shouldn’t be visible.

His lungs were the wrong shape, he couldn’t breathe.

“Shit.”

He’s Kaito, right? Just a normal teenager with an abnormal life. Just a normal, human teenager.

The robot thought it was human.

The robot thought it was Kaito.

Kaito doesn’t remember being taken, he just remembers waking up strapped down. But the robot barely passed as human. But Kaito has wires in his chest.

He looks at the film again. “Well. No cracked rib.” He laughs. It’s not funny at all. He can’t breathe. “What do I do?”

The empty basement hideaway his father left him has no answers at all.

Like usual, it’s just Kaito facing crisis alone.

He’s never felt worse.

o*O*o

Eventually, he picks himself off the floor. Eventually he changes into new clothes. Eventually he slides into bed and sleeps, terribly, but sleeps. He sees his face melting in his dreams, a broken metallic skull leaking fluid and smoke and blank mechanical eyes staring at him. His skin peeling away to show metal bones and wires as everyone he loves stares in horror.

Kaito wakes up feeling like he’s going to throw up, in a cold sweat. He can dream and sweat and feel sickening terror, surely he’s wrong. Surely.

But the x-ray is the same damning image this morning as it was last night.

Kaito’s hands start shaking again.

If he goes into class, Hakuba will take one look at him and know something’s up. Hell, Aoko will notice. He laces his fingers together. Poker face. Poker face. Whatever is going on, he’s still been Kaito for months without noticing anything wrong so. So maybe he’s… a cyborg or something. A robot wouldn’t be having a panic attack about being a robot. Who would want to make a robot capable of having a panic attack in the first place?

He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he needs answers before he can do anything else.

Kaito calls in sick, leaves Aoko a message so she doesn’t show up demanding he get ready for school. Eats plain toast without tasting it—how can he taste it?—and slides on his shoes. His chest is a mass of dark bruises just like a human body that had a bullet deflected should be. But nothing under his skin is apparently human.

It’s easy to slip into the police record room with a borrowed face, and a matter of minutes to seek out the mad doctor’s case record. His charred remains are photographed in gristly glory front and center, but his cause of death isn’t fire. Kaito knows his hands don’t have the sort of strength to do what that file describes.

He almost throws up looking at it.

There’s lab equipment listed off, melted computers and bits of paper files to survive the destruction kept in evidence files. Kaito might need to come back and see what he can salvage from them. If he’s… not fully human, he might need some of the doctor’s research no matter how much the thought makes his skin crawl. There’s nothing in the file about the robot, but there is notes about unfinished pieces parts sifted from the wreckage. Police notes only speculate what they thought was going on in the labs.

The file doesn’t mention another body.

Kaito does a quick look into active unidentified male bodies found in the last few months, but none of them are young enough to be him. None of them recognizable. It should be a good thing.

It should be.

Instead it has Kaito’s breathing tight again because what if he died and no one ever found the body? What if he rots somewhere and no one will ever know he’s not. That’s Kaito’s not.

He leaves the police station.

There’s a disconnect between his self and emotions and it’s something he’s done before, but rarely outside of a heist. His poker face, most of the time, is an act. This is different. This is shutting bits of himself away because otherwise he couldn’t function. This is putting off a breakdown knowing it’ll be that much worse later. This is shutting a door knowing it’s going to open later and drown him.

He heads for the lab. It’s the only place he can think to go.

o*O*o

The building is condemned. It’s a burnt husk of a thing and a surprise that it hasn’t been torn down yet. Perhaps the doctor had owned it and it’s in the air what to do with it. Either way, Kaito approaches with detached caution.

He can remember leaving here in a rush, the explosion that followed not long after he made it out. He can remember the sickening glimpse of a body on his way out, trying not to look too hard and knowing it’d haunt his nightmares. Kaito steps inside and pinpoints the twisted metal that was once where he was strapped down, the shattered remains of the memory transfer machines still imbedded into the wall behind it.

The police had removed a lot of things, but they couldn’t remove the scorch marks on the walls and floor or the dark bloodstains in the corner. He shivers.

What is he doing here? The scene was gone over by police. It’s not like he’s going to find something they didn’t, and it’s not like he’s going to know what any of the machine bits left can do beyond the memory transfer one.

It’s damp and drafty inside. It smells like wet ashes and chemicals and he wants to turn around and leave, especially when he sees a metal start of a skeleton still bolted to the back wall. How many had this guy made? How many robot failures before the one that Kaito fought? How many thought they were human? How many other people were kidnapped in the process of building these things?

Things. Robots were things. And Kaito was…

The wall had collapsed along one side, and no one had bothered to clear the rubble. If Kaito was a crazy robot building scientist that kidnapped teenagers, what would he do with them? Ok, he’d been strapped down to the memory machine. But if he built a robot and implanted memories in it, he’d want to compare, right? He’d want to prove that he’d done the transfer right, so he wouldn’t just get rid of the teenager. The robot Kaito faced had transferred memories fine, but the emotional and moral processes hadn’t been right. The doctor had been basing it off Kaito and if Kaito was. If he was then that meant the transfer had worked right on Kaito. Probably. And maybe the scientist had been trying to duplicate whatever happened with Kaito or maybe they’d been two different models for different purposes. Who the hell knew at this point? Certainly not Kaito.

Kaito prods at rubble. If there’s one thing he’s learned about people who have secrets to hide, things aren’t as they appear. This is a lab, but it’s missing living space. It’s missing storage and a metal foundry. The pieces that built the robots are too specialized to not be custom made. The cabinets that had existed had to have been full of wires and polymers and the fine details bits that you’d want a nice open workspace to better work with, but there had to be a place the doctor had done the base work and he’s not seeing any sign of it here. Just the start of the skeleton on the wall that’s missing its head and lower half.

He can’t look at it. It’s somewhere in between the scan Kaito took of his chest and the metal chassis from the robot he fought, its skin peeling back and—

There had to be a basement. Still is a basement probably. But the door is either hidden or buried, and Kaito’s not sure what to do first. Test the shattered remains of cabinet bases? Try scrounging through rubble? See if anything still hooked into the wall shifts and shows a hidden room like his painting at home?

The basement wouldn’t have been legally added or the police would have its existence on file for the building blueprints. But most of this place can’t have been legally built. Not with the amount of equipment secreted away. People would have asked questions. So. Hidden door.

Kaito estimates wall thicknesses versus the interior versus how dangerous it is to get close to places where the ceiling and walls are still crumbling bit by bit.

There’s a cabinet with shattered glass cases and medical supplies that have all been taken away as evidence. Kaito vaguely remembers it before the explosion. Despite half a roof caving in around it, it’s still in one piece structurally and that means it’s built stronger than a cabinet should be.

It takes twenty minutes of careful prodding and digging and tugging to get it to budge and when it does it shrieks like rusted hinges. But Kaito keeps pulling and gets a space big enough for him to crawl through, stairs traveling down.

It’s dark and even mustier than above. The floor must have cracked or the foundations, and it’s growing mold, but Kaito’s surprised to find it isn’t completely dark. Somehow there’s still power running here, probably underground. The overhead lights are shattered but in the gloom are a few red blinking lights of appliances.

Kaito wants to turn back but he’s never been one to shy away from the truth.

Glass crunches under his shoes as his small pocket flashlight illuminates fragments of the dark. A table. A kitchen. A bed, all in the first room, but heavy metal doors beyond. They’re warped though, and the ceiling sags ominously where a support beam crumpled slightly from the explosion above. Kaito has no idea how it didn’t get destroyed with the rest of the place, but it had to have been the placement of explosives.

He creeps further, leaving the eerily normal living area for one of the metal doors. It’s stuck, but he gets it to move enough to squeeze past, his ribs protesting the movement. It’s fine. It’s not important. The room is the metal foundry he’d expected, casts and tools and carefully disguised air vents branching off. It’s heavily reinforced, probably also muffled so the metalwork didn’t make too much noise. He sees finished metal bones, all sorted neatly into labeled bins and racks of molds. There’s a half-finished skull just sitting there on a work bench, empty eye sockets unnerving.

Kaito wrenching his eyes away from it. There’s papers and diagrams, documents on the doctor’s research about how the robotic body comes together, about alloys and density and weights that Kaito should keep if it ever becomes something he needs—He drops the thought into that emotional void growing in his head.

If he needs anything from here, he will take it. And will not think about what it means.

The documents about the muscular, nervous, circulatory and digestive systems aren’t here. Might not even exist anymore. But there had been a personal computer in the living space and it had glass littering it like the floor, but it wasn’t destroyed. It was one of the blinking red lights, so maybe…

Kaito’s taking that when he leaves.

The other metal door is warped worse than the foundry. Kaito has to go and get a metal femur to lever the gap wide enough to pass through and he’s surprised to find the inside almost fully intact.

One light flickers on, the only bulb not destroyed. He’s not sure at first what the room is. There’s a filing cabinet by the door, sure, but also a chest freezer and something that looks like an opaque glass case except there are wires running to it and an electric hum that’s louder than the freezer. Something in his instincts prickle and Kaito can’t explain the heavy terrified feeling bubbling in his gut the longer he stares at the simple room in the dim, flicker light.

Glass crunches and he tugs the freezer lid up. He’s half expecting to find a dismembered corpse in there. There’s not a corpse but there is vial after vial of dark liquids with strings of numbers on them and containers labeled ‘skin’ with numbers after them. The liquid looks a lot like blood. Kaito’s stomach lurches. The other containers are opaque and thankfully impossible to tell the contents of, though they could be organs, real or synthetic. Kaito really hopes the skin is synthetic.

He lets the lid close and tugs the file cabinet drawers. Locked, but he can easily get in them later. That leaves the glass case.

It has a computerized box attached to the front with strings of numbers displayed that mean absolutely nothing to Kaito. There’s controls too, but the only one he cares about is the one that opens the glass case. It unlocks with a pneumatic hiss, like its contents were under pressure and Kaito swings the glass up.

And stares down at his face.

Peaceful. Like it’s asleep. He’s asleep. But his lips are bluish and his skin is pale and, when Kaito reaches out with a shaking hand, he’s cold to the touch.

The police never found a second body.

The room goes a little sideways and dark and Kaito realizes only after his face is mashed against the metal edge of the glass case that he’s hyperventilating.

“Shit,” he hisses through chattering teeth. “Shit.” His hair’s standing on end and his whole body is shaking and he’s having a panic attack next to his own corpse. “Shit.” It shouldn’t be possible to have a panic attack when he isn’t even real.

The room keeps spinning and blinking bright and dark as he tries to control his breathing. Shit, how can he hyperventilate when he doesn’t have real lungs and maybe not even a real brain—unless. He pops back up like a man drowning and scrabbles for the case.

He tilts Kai—the body’s head one way or another, but there’s no sign of it being cut open. The hair’s the same wiry texture he feels when he touches his head and there’s no injury he can feel. The knobs of its spine along the neck are intact. There’s wires, now that he’s looking, glued at the temples, but they’re not going in the body. There’s wires other places too and he has a stupid, fleeting moment of gratitude that at least the sick fuck that did this left Kaito’s underwear on. The body’s. Shit. There’s no marks and no indication of what happened, but the body isn’t breathing and there’s no pulse at its throat and it’s Kaito’s body right there.

It’s him but it’s not because Kaito isn’t.

He has to let go of the body and take three steps away to empty the meager contents of his stomach on the glass-littered floor. Stomach bile burns his throat. Is it even stomach acid? Is it even—how is he digesting if he’s wires and not-quite-organs? What is he?

He’s crying and hiccupping and he can’t quite seem to stop, the sour taste in his mouth and the smell of mold in his nose. What was the point in making a robot so close to human it can’t tell the difference between flesh and machine? What’s the point of a machine that can cry and vomit and panic like a real person? What’s the point of killing a teenager to replace him with a machine?

He crouches for an unknown period of time until the panic sort of flat lines and his tears dry. His hands stop shaking and his throat is raw, each breath a rasp. He bleeds and feels pain and emotions and—

Kaito goes back to the body. His body. Say the memory transfer worked. Say that Kaito in his entirety went from human flesh and bone to this. Intact. Say that the process fried Kaito’s brain and the doctor was left with a comatose teenager and a robot that didn’t know it was a robot. What would the doctor do with his mistake? Was the case to preserve the corpse? To keep the body as reference or had there been another purpose?

Or maybe the process hadn’t fried Kaito’s brain. Maybe the real Kaito had looked at his double. At the other Kaito and tried to break free. Maybe he’d been sedated or something else went wrong. But maybe that Kaito had died in terror and left an imposter in his place.

Kaito will never know.

There is no sign of decomposition. No sign of the body going through rigor mortis or any kind of trauma. Like he’s just sleeping. Like a few tiny stimuli could open the hidden blue eyes and the body would rise up and express how frigging cold it is in the case.

Maybe, for a scientist playing god, that had been the intent. Make a man from scratch achieved, next step bring back the dead. The first person to successfully revive a cryo patient.

Kaito closes his eyes, then closes the glass case. He can’t look at his own body anymore. He can’t. It seals with another hiss, preserving the body for however long the machine keeps running.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

He presses the heels of his hands against his swollen eyes. It’s not right to leave this here. It’s not right for any of this to be left here. It’s not right for Kaito to take the place of the real Kaito either but he doesn’t know what the hell to do. He’s been taking his place for months now; what else is there for him?

Is it better or worse if he is, in fact, a complete imprint of Kaito’s brain? Would he even know the difference if something is missing?

Worst of all, no one noticed. Not Aoko. Not Kaito or Jii. Not Kaito’s own mother. No one.

Kaito died alone. And no one noticed.

He’s crying again, not sure if it’s for himself or for the body at his back. Months. Months.

The overhead light flickers out and all at once Kaito can’t stay here. It’s like he’s the one in the box, trapped and slowly running out of air, and he squeezes out the door and up the stairs before he can even process moving. He doesn’t stop until he’s up a tree and breathing smoke and mold free air and trying to stop trembling. ‘What now?’ his mind asks. ‘What now, what now, what now?’

It’s night when he finally moves. He doesn’t know how long he sat up a tree, can’t remember the sun going down, only knowing that his body aches everywhere from stillness and unforgiving solid tree limbs beneath his ass. He makes a call. “Jii?”

He doesn’t know what his voice sounds like, couldn’t pick up his poker face if he tried right now.

It must be horrible though because Jii’s voice comes through the line sharp and worried. “What’s happened?” he asks.

There’s no way to start, no words to draw on to explain the mess that this is. How does someone say that they’re dead? That they’re dead and not, human and not, all at the same time?

“Kaito-bocchama?” Jii says sharper.

“How good,” Kaito says, voice gone all wobbly and out of control, “is that friend of yours with robotics?”

“…Kaito-bocchama?” Jii says a lot more dubiously.

Kaito licks his lips with a dry tongue. Dry mouth. Probably dehydrated and doesn’t that make no sense for a robot to have that feature. “There’s a problem. And I don’t know what to do,” he admits.

He can’t say it. How can he say to Jii that Kaito’s dead, like Toichi is dead, to Kaito’s mom that he’s dead and there’s just this remnant body of wires and meat-mimicking mess wearing his face left? How can he do that?

“Where are you?” Jii says, the sound of him getting clothing, maybe or a coat in the background.

Kaito hesitates, but gives the address of the burned down lab. “How good is your friend with robotics?” he asks again.

“…It isn’t his specialty,” Jii says after a long moment.

“Ah.” Too much to hope for. Still, maybe this mysterious friend Jii gets the occasional gadget from will know how to read the research notes better than Kaito would. Keys jingle as Jii locks his front door. “Jii?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, in advance,” Kaito says knowing it’s not enough. He hangs up before Jii can say anything in response and doesn’t pick up the return call. Instead he stuffs his phone in a pocket and covers his face with his hands and just breathes. If nothing else makes sense, at least he can do that.

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 8

Kokichi attends group therapy for the first time.

ao3

Ouma’s deep slumber, after not sleeping in lord knows how long, was interrupted by an incessant knocking at his door. Half-asleep, he faintly heard someone yell that they were coming in, followed by the opening of the door. Blinking the last remains of sleep from his weary eyes, Ouma groggily registered the sight of a nurse entering his room.

“There you are, Ouma-kun!” the nurse smiled. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything!” She paused for a moment, Ouma staring at her expectantly. “Actually, I’ve come to take you somewhere. You see, every Tuesday and Thursday we hold group therapy with the participants of the most recent season, and it happens to be starting in a few minutes, so I was wondering if you’d come with me?” The nurse’s tone was light but firm, suggesting that the group therapy wasn’t really optional. Nonetheless, this didn’t stop Ouma from rolling over in his bed and responding with a curt no thanks.

The nurse continued, “It’s… not really optional. It’s required, actually, and most participants seem to be benefiting from it greatly…”

Required, my ass. What’re they gonna do to me if I don’t go?

“...so I strongly recommend that you attend today’s meeting, or else you might get into some legal trouble. Your past self did sign a contract with us, after all.”

“...Then I don’t have a choice, do I?” Ouma grumbled, shoving aside his sheets and dangling his legs off the side of the bed.

“I suppose not… but just give it a try, I’m sure you’ll find some aspect of it that you like!”

Both of them knew that last part was a lie, but, seeing as he had no choice, Ouma decided to prepare himself to leave his room and look presentable for other people. The nurse left after telling him where the meeting was, leaving him to smooth out his hair in front of the mirror and change into a fresh t-shirt and jeans that his pregame self had packed for him. The thought of being associated with anything that his pregame self liked, let alone wearing something he used to like, disgusted him, but he didn’t really have much of a choice there either.

Ouma stole one last look at himself in the mirror before exiting. There were bags under his eyes, despite the nap he just took, and his clothes looked baggy on him. He must have lost some weight after barely eating the meals he was provided with, and in his reflection he somehow looked even smaller than he already was. Deciding that his appearance was the least of his worries, he exited his room and made his way to the room where the meeting was being held.

-------

The other fourteen participants had already gathered in the room where they were meeting for group therapy, as well as the therapist leading the group. All of their seats were arranged in one big circle, one chair still empty as they were still waiting for Ouma. Normally, his absence was to be expected since he woke up last from the simulation and was soon whisked off to the emergency room, though the others did not know this (except for Momota and Saihara). They just assumed that he did not want to come, which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when Ouma hesitantly appeared near the door that was left ajar, peeking into the room cautiously, the room fell silent. No one was expecting him here.

Ouma smirked to himself, finding it amusing how predictable the others always were. Just like when he entered the dining hall the other day, they stared at him with eyes wide and mouth agape, some of them looking more fearful than surprised. The only one who didn’t look surprised was the therapist, who presumably was expecting him.

The therapist running the group was different from the personal therapist that he met with the other day, making Ouma wonder how many different staff members with glasses and clipboards were in this damn hospital.

“Ouma-kun, nice to see you.” This therapist clearly lacked the unnecessary enthusiasm that the nurses often had, which, surprisingly, put Ouma at ease. “Take a seat between Momota-kun and Akamatsu-san, please.”

Staring at the ground, Ouma walked over to the leftover seat and sat down, avoiding Akamatsu’s pitying gaze as he did so. At least Momota didn’t even bother to look at him, feeling too awkward after their last encounter.

“What is he doing here?” Harukawa grit her teeth.

“Relax, princess.” Ouma propped one elbow up on the back of his chair, sitting more casually. “I don’t wanna be here either, ‘kay?”

Harukawa glared at him and crossed her arms, but otherwise said nothing.

Rather than intervening, the therapist simply observed their exchange. She then glanced at her watch and sat up straight, announcing the start of the meeting.

“Well then, I suppose it’s about time we get started.” She looked around the room, observing everyone’s faces. “As you may have already noticed, we have a new member joining us today, meaning that this is our first meeting with all the living participants of the latest season of Danganronpa!” Her gaze fell on Ouma, who was absent-mindedly staring at the ground, wishing he was anywhere but here. “Now, Ouma-kun, I believe a brief introduction to this group would benefit you. As you may have already figured out, this is a safe space where the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season talk about their experience in the simulation, and is often a place where grievances between participants are resolved.”

The therapist then continued to list general guidelines of the group, such as how whatever is mentioned in the group stays in the group, and how everyone must be respectful towards one another.

“I think that covers it all. Is there anything that anyone else would like to add?” She opened the discussion to the rest of the room, allowing anyone to contribute.

“If I may point something out…” Kiibo spoke up, drawing the room’s attention to him. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one who didn’t have the option to distance themselves from their programmed Ultimate talent, being the Ultimate Robot. “Why hasn’t Ouma-kun been at the previous meetings? I recall seeing him in the dining hall a week or two ago, so he should’ve been able to attend the meetings at those times as well.”

Of course, the topic of discussion just had to be Ouma himself. The former supreme leader expected nothing less to occur at this meeting, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

“Well, Ouma-kun?” The therapist spoke. “Is there anything you would like to share?”

Ouma’s signature grin had returned, cheshire and taunting.

“Oh, you guys haven’t heard? I totally tried to kill myself! I had a knife and everything!”

Using his reputation as a liar, Ouma merely told the truth, knowing that no one would believe him. He felt Momota stiffen at his side.

“Cut it out, you degenerate! Can’t you tell the truth for two seconds?!” Chabashira cried, instinctively adopting a Neo-Aikido pose with her upper-body.

“But it’s not a lie, Chabashira-chan! I felt sooo bad after what I did during the killing game that I tried to take my own life! Sowwy, but that’s the truth!” Ouma crooned as he tilted his head innocently, poking a finger into his cheek.

“Why you little-”

“Chabashira-san, please!” Akamatsu sounded exasperated, as if the discord in the group physically pained her. “And Ouma-kun… We know that you didn’t want to show up, but suicide is really serious! Please don’t joke about that!”

“Hmm… Nah! Thanks for the suggestion Akamatsu-chan, but I’m gonna keep on lying! Nice try, though!” He smirked, linking his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

“Ouma-kun…” Akamatsu’s gaze was suddenly determined, her gaze firmly settled on Ouma’s face. “Everyone here already knows the truth… How you sacrificed yourself because you wanted to end the killing game… You don’t need to lie anymore.”

And then she looked at him with the most disgusting look Ouma had ever seen.

Her eyes were full of pity, staring at “the poor guy who killed himself to try and end the killing game,” boring into his skull, digging deep into his soul and tearing into his flesh.

He then noticed that everyone in the room was staring at him this way- eyes full of pity and concern, looking down on him, making fun of him.

Ouma felt himself snap, his blood running cold.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that!”

Akamatsu, for all her kindness and determination, fell silent, shocked at Ouma’s sudden outburst.

The whole room just stared at him, gawking at him like a fucking zoo animal.

Ouma stood up violently, digging his fingers into his scalp and closing his eyes.

“Stop staring at me!”

When he opened his eyes, even the therapist looked taken off guard.

“Ouma-kun, please sit down-”

“No! Don’t tell me what to do! I’m leaving!”

Ouma stormed out of the room, leaving a wake of destruction and chaos in the room.

He slammed the door behind him.

-------

Ouma lingered outside of the door for a moment, trying to compose himself. How dare they all pity him like that? Like he was so weak and helpless? It made him sick.

He made his way to his room, pausing outside of the common room when he heard a familiar voice.

“That coulda been a lie, too. He probably just said it so I’d cooperate with him.”

Was that… Momota’s voice?

Ouma stepped into the common room, devoid of all people since group therapy was still taking place. On the TV he saw the familiar trial room of the killing game, along with the remaining survivors before Momota’s execution.

”Was it really a lie…?” Kiibo’s voice spoke, “I think his dying words may have been the honest truth…”

That had certainly piqued Ouma’s interest. After waking up, the participants of Danganronpa’s latest season would watch the trials take place, but since he woke up so late Ouma never had the chance to see how people reacted to his own death. He had heard from the nurses that he and Momota’s plan failed, and how Saihara ultimately ended the killing game, but he never got to witness any of the footage.

”No, it’s definitely a lie. He’s not the type to shed real tears.”

...Thanks, Yumeno-chan. Not like I’m human or anything. 

Ouma watched as they briefly discussed whether or not his dying words were the truth before they moved on, dismissing his sacrifice entirely.

…

Did he really mean that little to them?

No, don’t think like that. You painted yourself as the villain so that they wouldn’t mourn you. You did this to yourself. You deserve this.

As the footage continued, Harukawa confessed her love for Momota, who was sent off with a smile as he climbed into the rocket ship, finally achieving his dream of seeing space with his own two eyes before his illness took his life. Everyone looked dejected after losing their resident optimistic astronaut, joining together in one big training session to lift their spirits.

Funny how Momota’s death had affected them so much, when he spent the killing game lying his ass off just like Ouma did. From lying about his illness, to lying during the fifth trial… Momota was just as much a liar as Ouma was. Yet he was mourned so much more, having been glorified as the hero who was blackmailed into working with Ouma.

The truth is, this is exactly how Ouma planned it to be. He didn’t want anyone to mourn his eventual death, as that would only contribute to their despair. He was perfectly content with no one missing him after he died.

...So then why did it hurt so much?

Not even Saihara, the brilliant detective Saihara who always saw the truth, had anything to say about Ouma’s sacrifice. Not even a “Maybe his last words really were the truth” or a “Thank you for sacrificing yourself, Ouma-kun.” Just a half-assed shrug followed by tears for Momota and Momota only.

No one even acknowledged Ouma’s true intentions, they just brushed over his entire plan in an instant, opting to focus on Momota instead. The hours he spent in his room coming up with different plans of action to take down the mastermind all rendered useless as both his plan A and plan B failed, leaving his entire existence and efforts useless.

Was it selfish to want more?

Was it selfish to want people to have mourned him, even after all the horrible things he did to them, if it was for the greater good?

Of course it’s selfish. You don’t deserve their attention. You don’t even deserve the fucking pity they give you. 

He turned off the TV and went back to his room, having seen enough.

Can’t risk getting caught here being emotional over the simulation. No one can know that the big bag Kokichi Ouma has feelings.

Surprisingly, he didn’t cry. Not when he was in the common room and not when he was back in his own room. Sure, he cried to himself many nights in the simulation, especially after manipulating Gokuhara, but not right now. Instead he felt bitter and hollow, like watching that footage tore a hole straight into his chest where his heart should be.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He had just felt so overwhelmed with finding out that the killing game was just a simulation that crying took too much energy- it was easier to just stare at the ceiling, hoping some form of emotion would make its way into his consciousness.

Little did he know, that was about to change.

[phantoms-lair]

Mirror’s Gaze part 17

Didn’t think this would happen? Honestly me neither. But I wanted to get it done for the 50th Anniversary of Scooby Doo tonight, so victory!

Previously on Mirror’s Gaze

They met again in the diner and Arthur wondered if there was an end to Shaggy’s appetite. He wished, perhaps selfishly, that he had Lewis’s cooking to fill the bottomless pit. No, definitely selfish, since Lewis already had to cook for Vivi when he couldn’t even eat himself.  As it was, the accumulated food costs had been adding up to a horrifying number. He tried to keep it to a minimum to keep costs down, but it seemed like he’d never be full again. Still it was getting harder not to not to start crying when he saw the total rising.

He had tried to get away with just a glass of water, by Velma had shot him Vivi’s ‘you’re not taking care of yourself’ look (And why did anyone but Vivi even have that?) so he’d ordered a large plate of fries. Maybe he should start looking for all you can eat buffets. Normally they were more expensive, but it might currently be the more cost-effective option.

The afternoon had been productive at least. The list of ex-Fezness employees had been huge, but the number of employees who could both build an animatronic robot and program in behavior was much smaller. In fact only five names came up. Louise Clayton, Marcella Garrett, Bertrum Reynolds, Frank Lambert, and Matthew Luna.

Velma was devouring the hidden file, apparently craving the knowledge it contained like this body craved food (once she was sure Arthur was actually eating). “This is fascinating. I can’t believe Professor Mansfield, his assistant, and student created this.”

“That’s not the only thing, look at this.” Fred pointed out one of the names on Arthur and Velma’s list, then at the front of the file.

“Jeepers, do you think there’s a connection?” Daphne asked.

“Very likely.”

Arthur craned his neck to look at the front of the document. Ah. “So time to call the police?” It was far from open and shut, but it was a reasonable connection.

Fred and Daphne looked at him oddly, though Velma was still engrossed with the document. “We haven’t caught the culprit yet,” Fred pointed out. “But don’t worry, I’ve got the first workings of a plan.”

“Why would we catch the culprit?” Arthur asked, confused. “I mean, yeah, citizen arrests are a thing, but this is literally what the police are for. We’ve found the clues, put them together in a reasonable fashion, now we turn over the evidence to the authorities who can legally make the arrest and build a case so they can be prosecuted.” 

Why were they looking at him like he’d grown an extra head?

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” Velma hadn’t looked up from the document. “It’s not like it’s a real evil AI. There’s a human controlling it.”

“Of course there’s a human controlling it.” Arthur was baffled. “And do you know what humans can have? Guns. Especially humans with a lack of respect for law and order. Not to mention none of what we found is admissible in court since it was obtained without a warrant.” He gestured to the document. “Or through illegal breaking and entering.”

Fred frowned. “It wasn’t like we were trying to rob the place, Arthur. We were looking for clues.”

“Which to do legally you need either permission or be a member of law enforcement with a judge-issued warrant. Evidence obtained otherwise is non-admissible and can compromise the integrity of a case, sometimes even causing it to be thrown out.” This was his job, at least one of them.

“Arthur may have a point,” Velma conceded. “Most of the clues we find wouldn’t fly in a trial. However, it’s almost moot in a case where the culprit is caught red handed and confesses, so as long as we catch him, it’ll work out.” 

That seemed overly optimistic “Okay, but can we get back to my other concern. Mainly, what if he has a gun?!” 

 “You worry too much,” Daphne patted his shoulder. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Arthur groaned, resting his head on the table. Even Vivi at her most enthusiastic didn’t completely discount risk. Misjudged, maybe, but never discount. His first impulse was to bow out now. Go to the police on his own, present his case, and hope they followed up. The problem was, he couldn’t rule out the kids doing something foolish in the meantime. He sighed. The best thing he could do to keep them safe was to stay and hope to mitigate. “Okay, what do you have so far? We can build on that.”

“Sure,” Fred felt a bit thrown off his game. Usually he just made the plan and everyone else went along with it. “We need to lure the robot out again. We can assure the creator wants this.” He tapped the file in Velma’s hands. “We just need someone else to announce they have a copy, maybe that it’s being patented in memory of Dr. Mansfield. The robot should come for that.”

“While basic behaviors could be programmed in, being able to react quickly enough to capture a person would require real time input from someone who was watching what was happening. So the culprit would have to be on site.” Velma deduced.

“Still might not be easily noticeable, if the commands are being given via a smart phone it’ll blend in with everyone trying to record it.” Arthur pointed out. “We could probably make a signal blocker without too much difficulty, especially if we can assume it uses similar systems to Fezness. But that won’t catch our culprit red-handed,”

“A blind?” Daphne suggested. “The robot is going to cause a lot of chaos, but judging by it’s fingers I bet it would have some trouble picking the actual folder up without losing pages.”

“And we catch our culprit when he goes for the file.” Fred grinned. Sure, it didn’t involved building a trap, but he had to admit coming up with the plan together was fun. “He won’t come close if there’s a lot of people there, so we have one person hiding in the podium ready to catch him the the act while everyone is distracted.”

Which would be the most dangerous location, being alone with the criminal while he was at his most desperate. “And who would the one in that position?” Honestly, he was expecting it to be Fred. He was the leader, after all. If it was their team, he knew Vivi would have insisted she be the one of the front line, at least before Lewis became a ghost and thus immune to conventional weapons. (She’d still try, but it would be possible to talk her out of it.)

So it was to Arthur’s surprise that everyone turned to look at him. And it was too automatic to be because he was older and more experienced. They expected Shaggy to be the one to get close.

“And why exactly do you think me, the one least wanting to do this, should be in the most dangerous position?” Of course, he was planning to anyway to keep the kids safe, but wanted to hear what they said.

“Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?” The question was automatic, Fred asked it without really thinking.

The fork fell from Arthur’s hand and clanged loudly against the plate holding his mostly eaten eggs. “Excuse me, I must have misheard. Did you just try to get me to do something dangerous by bribing me with dog treats?” His voice seemed to freeze the air around him. They’d never heard this scathing tone from Arthur and certainly never from Shaggy.

Fred, Daphne, and Velma froze, trying to switch tracks to the suddenly hostility radiating from Arthur.

“Raggy roves rhem!” Scooby barked back. “Re’d reat rhem rogether rall rhe rime. Ri...ri riss Raggy.” The great dane broke down into quiet sobs.

The cold fury seemed to wash away from Arthur, leaving an awkward atmosphere.

“We’re getting him back, Scooby.” Daphne promised. “It’s not going to be too long now.”

Scooby let out a low whine and rested his head on the table. He’d never been away from Shaggy for so long in his life. And phone calls were better than nothing, but nowhere near the same.

Arthur tentatively patted Scooby on the head, as if afraid him being a facsimile of his friend would just make it worse. “Just another couple of days. No more stops, okay.”

“Rop ror rood?” Scooby asked, a small smile showing he was joking.

“Yeah, don’t think either of us would do well if we didn’t stop for food.” Arthur agreed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down the rest of the way. “Look, I’m going to check on the Fezness patents so we can build our signal jammer better. Let me know if anything comes up.” Arthur headed to the counter to pay his bill and then left.

The Gang watched him go, still in mild surprise. Velma took over petting Scooby.

“Well yeah, it sounds bad if you put it that way,” Fred said uncomfortably.

“True, but how else could you put it? We have been bribing Shaggy with dog treats.” Velma pointed out, subdued.

“Because he likes them. But right now that’s not making me feel better.” Daphne sighed. 

~

Arthur had hoped leaving would help him cool his head. Instead it was the opposite, as his mind replayed the conversation he’d just had, he felt himself get more and more worked up. As the patent information blurred together, Arthur realized he’d never be able to focus like this. He pulled Shaggy’s phone and dialed his own number.

It rang a few times before he heard his own voice answer. “Like, Shaggy here. What’s up Arthur?”

Arthur took a deep breath. He hadn’t exactly thought this through. “Um, so, the thing with the Scooby Snacks?” “Besides that they’re delicious?” Shaggy chuckled.

“Seriously?” Well, at least that confirmed what Scooby had said about Shaggy liking them.

“Yeah, like, you should try them.” Shaggy suggested.

Technically he currently had Shaggy’s taste buds, so if Shaggy liked them, right now he should too. But the thought of eating dog biscuits turned his stomach. “I’ll pass. This was more about them being used as a bribe to get you to do dangerous things.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Shaggy laughed. “That part of the mystery already?”

“That part...how often does this happen?” Arthur asked, shocked.

“It’s cool man. Like, I’d really rather we didn’t run into mysteries.  But to tell the truth, this part; I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. Between track and gymnastics I’m the fastest and the best at escaping. Me and Scoob are the most likely to get out okay. The snacks are just, well, free snacks.”

 Arthur felt most of the tension leave him. “You don’t feel you're being taken for granted here?”

He could almost see Shaggy shrug. “Like, probably a bit. But then again, I probably take them for granted a bit too. Part of being human, man.”

“Shaggy, are you ready? We need to get back on the road!” Arthur heard Vivi’s voice calling out.

“Be right there!” Shaggy called back. “Sorry, got to go.”

“Vivi stops for no man,” Arthur agreed. “Scooby misses you.”

“I miss him too. Like don’t get me wrong, Mystery’s groovy but no one can replace Scoob.” There was such a profound sadness in his voice.

“Soon,” Arthur promised. “We’ll get you two back together soon.”

The call ended and Arthur admitted he did feel better about things.This was just part of a group dynamic he hadn’t expected. He turned his attention back to the signal jammer and almost didn’t notice when Fred entered the computer lab.

“I talked to Dr. Gardner. She agreed to help with our plan.” Fred said quietly. “And...I’ll hide under the podium.”

“Fred, my problem was never being the one under the podium. It was the knee-jerk reaction of going straight for a bribe when it looked like I was refusing.” And the dog treat thing, though that was apparently a non-issue. “No is a complete sentence.”

Fred looked like he’d been caught kicking a puppy. Arthur sighed. “I don’t like it, but I did talk to Shaggy and he’s okay with it, which is the important thing. Just respect it if he doesn’t want to do something, okay?”

“Okay. And that goes for you too. You and Velma can focus on the robot while I catch our culprit.”

“It’s fine. I can do this. This is the most dangerous part and Shaggy would never forgive me if you got hurt.”

“And what if you got hurt?” Fred countered.

“I think Shaggy would rather lose his original body than his friend.” Arthur could have kicked himself the moment the words left his mouth. Hurt didn’t mean death.

“No one’s going to die,” Fred said, as if he could make it so through sheer stubbornness. “I don’t know why you think this is so dangerous. We’ve done this a hundred times before. But if it makes you feel better, what about this—"

Arthur smiled as he heard Fred’s newest addendum to the plan. This he liked a lot better.

~ “Thanks for coming everyone.” Dr. Gardner stood alone on the podium in the middle of the outdoor stage. “Professor Mansfield planned to unveil this today as the capstone of the Robotics Festival. Since he can’t be here, I’ll be unveiling it in his stead. This was a joint project between Floyd and myself, along with one of our most promising students, Tabitha Reynolds. May I present -”

F̥̰͎͊͊͛ͩ̎̌̚o͖̬̱͔̯ǒ̙̮͈͕̹̰̙̆ͫͤ͛l̰̰̠̭͎̔ͩ̚iș̩̹ͥ̐̐h̘͕̖̜̑ͥ̋ͪ̐̀ ̣̠̯̮̂ͅH̥̼̳͍̥͇̹͐̽̂u̾m̟ͥ̿ͨ͛ȃ̹̝̥͗ͫ͂n̙̯͙ͮ̈͂͋ Yͯ̐͑̅ͥo̤͈͔͍͖̹u̹̪̗̣͇̺̬̎ͬ͒ͥ̓̓̚ ͒̓̄d̤ͫ̎̌̐̚o̲͔̻̭̜͍̺ͮ̎͐ ͇̤̩͊ͯͪ͐̓̊̇n̍ͤo͈͕̻̞͂̎̇͐ͫͮ̚t̉̃ͦ ̳̣̰̜͐̉̇ͯc͎̽͐͗ͨͤͮͣo̙n͚͇̗ṭ͖͇͓̻͇̼̅r̖̦̝̖͔̹͛͑̍͌ͧ͆o̞̱͛̈̎͑͋l̹̝̰̠̝̥ͩ ͓̟̖̤̤̣̈́ͬͣ̏̇̈́t͇̖̻̰̙̳̲͌͊h͑͛ͬͣ̄e̜̩̰̱̜ͩ̅ͬ̑͗̚ ̼͎̻̊͌̇͗mͪ̓̋ã̮̳̫̖̲͌c͎̻̞͖͉ͨ̆̈̉̃h̰̝̜̫͖̒̓ͨi͖͓̻͗̎n͒e̯̲̙͉̓̎̅͒͐ͩs̥̰͕̿̑ͯ͗͐̚ͅͅ,͔̰̒̍ͥ̌̑͐ͭ ͍w̞̦͇̥͚̲̋̂͑̇̍͋ͩe̟̼̙͆͑̅̓ͮ ͍̞̺̝̘͉̑͊ͅc̟̟̮̬̰̥̉ͬ̈́ͮó̱͇nͩ́̈͒̊̂t̤͕̭̟̯ͥͤ̃̈́̔ͩ͋ȑ̤͍̟̲̖̾̊ǒ͔͙͇͓̳̺l̺̖͎̣̎̈̆ͯ̍̉͐ ͚̝̮͖y̅̐ͪ̐ŏ̰̦̭͔̿̇̓̈͌͗uͧ̔

The robot who’d taken Professor. Mansfield appeared again, floating in the air. It swooped down on stage, causing Dr. Gardner to dive to the side to avoid it.

“Anything?” Velma asked over her phone. “Not yet.” Daphne was watching the stage through a pair of binoculars. “No one’s heading for the file. They’re all running away from the robot.”

“Roger.” They wanted the culprit to feel safe enough to get the file in the first place, so wouldn't be using the signal jammer until he’d made his move. Daphne was the look out, keeping a close eye on the file from a distance. Velma was ready with the signal jammer she and Arthur had put together, waiting for the signal from Daphne. Fred was also waiting for said signal to spring his trap. Arthur had been in the front of the crowd and was now by Dr. Gardner’s side, ready to help her escape. Scooby was likewise guarding Tabitha.

Somewhat thankfully, the robot was ignoring the student for now and focusing all its attention on the doctor. Shaggy had been right, though. His body was built for speed and it was easy to keep up with Dr. Gardner and help pull her away. If he'd had a better idea of how strong he was, he would have just picked her up and bolted. As it were, there was plenty of destruction happening from stampeding crowds when the robot swooped down to try and grab Dr. Gardner. One near miss resulted in Arthur pulling her out of the way just in time, causing the robot to barrel into a scale model of Stranshaw.

“Someone’s going for the file!” Daphne reported. “He’s close. Closer….closer....He shoved it under his jacket and he’s in position, NOW.”

Fred hit a switch, causing the door on the bottom of the podium to burst open as the net launcher fired out, trapping the man where he stood. At the same time, Velma hit her switch. The robot, without any new input, crashed into the ground and stopped working.

“We did it!” Velma cheered as Arthur helped steady Dr. Gardner. 

“Let me go!” the man on the stage snarled.

Tabitha gasped. “Uncle Bert?”

“Sorry Tabitha, but your Uncle was behind the Rampaging robot and the kidnapping of Professor Mansfield.” Velma explained.

“But why? You knew what this school and project meant to me!” Tabitha asked, distraught.

“It’s because of the project,” Velma explained. “Because your Uncle is working on his own version of the same thing. Sub-Atmosphereal Three-Dimensional Locomotion via Podiatric-based Apparatuses, or in other words, jet boots. The apparent propulsion system on the back of the robot was just for show. What really made it fly was his prototype jet boots. But they’re not ready. My guess would be the power supply is too bulky to be practical. Then he found out Professor Mansfield was working on the same thing, and was just about ready to publish and patent. He needed to keep Mansfield out of the way until his were done. That said, we knew he’d jump at the chance to see Mansfield’s notes, that how we knew he’d come for the file if he knew where it was.”

“But where is Professor Mansfield?” Dr. Gardner asked.

A stubborn expression set Bertrum’s jaw, but Arthur just grinned. “No worries. He’s going to tell us. Enlightened self-interest if nothing else.” Their culprit cocked an eyebrow. “Please enlighten me on how giving up my trump card is in my interest.”

“Because you’re not motivated by spite.” Arthur said easily. “If you were, the robot would have been given a test run against the executives at Fezness that cost you your old job. But you’re not out for revenge, just profit. And the fact that you’d backstab your own niece means you wouldn’t trust anyone else. So Mansfield is kept in a secret location where you’re taking care of him, since you don’t really want him harmed, just out of the way till your own patent goes through. Right now you could be charged with kidnapping, corporate espionage, and reckless endangerment. You’d go to jail, probably medium to low security, and while admittedly getting a job after you get out will be hard, it’s not impossible. Telling us upfront shows you never intended Mansfield harm and may get you a lesser sentence.”

Then Arthur’s eyes hardened. “Now if you were to turn this into a hostage situation, that would all change. Mansfield is restrained somewhere without access to food or water. That can easily turn lethal, especially since he’s not a young man. You’ve put him in a situation where he could die if your demands are not met. Now the main charge is attempted murder. There’ll be no lesser sentence for cooperation. You’ll be in a higher security prison with more violent tending inmates. And you can kiss any prospects when you get out goodbye.”

“And if Mansfield actually dies? Premeditated murder. You’ll never see the outside of a cell again. I’m not too familiar with the laws of this state, so I don’t know if it’s to the end of your natural life, or if the state shortens it for you. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. At the end of the day, you’ll do what’s in your own best interest. And right now, that’s telling us where Mansfield is.”

Bertrum held Arthur’s cool gaze for a second. “He’s in a storage shed on the outskirts of town. Unit 24.”

“Good work,” Arthur almost jumped. He hadn’t noticed the police getting there. 

“Of course, Betrum Reynolds wasn’t the only one engaging in some Corporate Espionage.” Fred declared. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Jorkin?"

“What are you talking about?” The gruff man folding his arms and tried to look intimidating.

“He’s talking about you being a spy for Crawford Loan Agency, and their sister company CLA Limited.” Velma grinned. “When Professor Mansfield was starting out he needed money for his work, money he got from the Crawford Loan Agency. In order to pay them back, he gave them a percentage on his patents. The problem was he’d gotten to a point where he didn’t need the loans anymore, he’d had enough money to fund a college. Jorkin was placed here to look for an opportunity to get him back under their thumb. Initially it was a planned meeting to attempt to get him to take out another loan. After he was kidnapped, though, Jorkin helped the agent from CLA break into Mansfield's office to steal his research. Needless to say, I don’t think the college will be keeping you. And considering the fact that your misogynistic views cost CLA an in with Dr. Gardner, I don’t know how interested they’d be in keeping you either.”

“You worthless bitch.” Jorkin’s meaty palm went straight for Velma’s throat. It never got there though, as Daphne grabbed said arm and Judo-tossed him onto the podium, smashing it under him.

“Don’t you dare touch my friends!” Daphne snarled.  Scooby growled menacingly and he, Fred and Arthur closed ranks around Velma.

“Attempted Aggravated Assault on a Minor!” Arthur called out to the police, who were already in the process of cuffing Jorkin as Reynolds was being escorted to a squad car.

“We’re aware of the laws, son.” said the cop cuffing Jorkin. “Incidentally, using Mansfield location as a bargaining chip would have been False Imprisonment, not attempted murder.”

“Oh I know,” Arthur said easily. “But I was banking on the fact that Reynold’s didn’t.”

Velma snorted and soon the whole gang was laughing. It was the kind of laughter that was a release of nerves, but laughter nonetheless. Though Arthur was a bit confused when Jorkin grumbled about meddling kids and everyone else just laughed harder.

~

“I can’t thank you enough. If you’re ever looking for a higher education, Strenshaw Technical Institute would be happy to have you.” Professor Mansfield was having a recommended stay in the hospital to make sure he was alright, so Dr. Gardner was seeing them off. 

“We’ll keep it in mind.” Fred shook Dr. Gardner’s hand.

“Hey Mister, Hey Mister!” The young boy they’d seen the day they arrived, Tommy, ran up to them. “It works great!”

He held up his dog, Saddie, for them to see. Only instead of a missing hind leg she now had a mechanical one made of plastic. Very familiar pieces of plastic.

 “That’s what you’ve been working on all this time?” Velma asked.

“Well, yeah.” Arthur shrugged. “I could help, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s not a bad design at all.” Dr Gardner said, examining it. “Who knows, you may be the next Arthur Kingsmen.”

Arthur’s eyes widened as the Gang turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Kingsmen currently has the patent for the most advanced prosthetic arm around, as well as a few animal prosthetics. There’s a few more elitist members of the engineering and robotics community who aren’t very happy at being outdone by a car mechanic, but talent is talent.”

“The arm isn’t perfect, though. There’s still the nervous feedback issue, not to mention waterproofing.” Arthur looked a little sheepish.

“You’re familiar with it?” Dr. Gardner looked surprised.

“Yeah, I know the guy, just didn’t know he was famous.” Arthur admitted. He hadn’t known anyone outside Tempo knew about his arm.

“Well next time you see him, let him know Professor Mansfield would welcome him at SIT too.” 

“See, he’s perfect,” Daphne whispered to Velma.

Velma sighed. “It’s not happening, Daph.”

“Sure it can, you just need to think positively. We have at least another week to-”

“Daph, it’s not going to work because he’s not a pedophile.”

Velma’s response caused Daphne to stop short. “What?”

“Arthur’s 26, remember? Much too old to even be thinking about dating someone our age.” Velma said sadly.

Daphne looked like she’d bitten a lemon. “I completely forgot. And here I was just making things worse by getting your hopes up. I am so sorry Velma.”

Velma just shook her head. “Don’t be, I always knew this was going to happen.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow. “You knew?”

“Well, not the body switching, obviously. But I always figured my first crush would be an older guy. A teacher or professor or something.” She’d always pictured a good looking posh man, maybe in tweed. Arthur was exactly nothing like her imagined first crush. He was down to earth and smart without any academic airs. And yet somehow he was so much better than anything she’d imagined.

“That’s just how is goes, though. Mind you, if you and your crush getting together wouldn’t be a felony, maybe it’s worth actually asking him?” Velma nudged Daphne in the ribs gently.

Daphne turned beet red as Fred called out to them, “Coming girls? We need to check out so we can get back to the road.” They probably could have stayed and finished up the last day of the festival, but after seeing how lost Scooby looked without Shaggy, none of them had wanted to waste any more time. 

Thankfully they were all mostly packed and most of it was transferring the luggage to the Mystery Machine. Fred and Daphne had gone to settle the bill while Arthur and Scooby went to get some snacks for the road. Velma did the last sweep of their shared rooms, making sure nothing was left behind.

Satisfied there was nothing left but her laptop, she flipped it open to wait for the others to get back. She had been looking up the Mystery Skulls themselves and seeing what kind of cases they had solved. There were several kidnappings and returning stolen items. She scrolled through them until one headline caught her eye. She had to read it a few times just to make sure she’d read it correctly

‘Lewis Pepper, Local Private Investigator, Dead After Accident During Cave Investigation’

She read the article and cross referenced it with an obituary from The Tempo Times. It seemed legit. 

“But if Lewis Pepper is dead, who have we been talking to on the phone?” She narrowed her eyes. “Arthur, what are you and your friends hiding?”

~~~~

Zalgo text: Foolish Human You do not control the machines we control you

This case probably could have been done better, but at this point I’m just glad to be done with it.

Notes: Signal jammers are normally illegal, they slid by on this because it wasn’t effecting normal service, just the particular signal affecting the robot