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uozlulu · 1 year

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50 questions for fic writers

@darkangel1791 asked that fic writing mutual answer these questions, and so here we go~

1. What fic of yours would you recommend to someone who had never read any of your work? (In other words, what do you think is the best introduction to your fics?) I’d start with a oneshot. The one that’s been the most well-received is a SPN/Teen Wolf (MTV) crossover about Stiles having an unreciprocated crush on Dean called Crush. The oneshot I think represents my style as a writer the most would be my BnHA/MHA fic called …save…. about Shirakumo overcoming Kurogiri’s programing enough to ask Aizawa to help save Shigaraki. The oneshot I think I did my best work on to date would be my IwtV (AMC) fic May You Get What You Desire Is a Curse upon the Dead, that explores desire via Devil’s Minion. I think this is my best oneshot, if not overall fic, because I alternated between two POVs, one in the past and one in the present, and I don’t cringe when I reread it.

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits? Mine are 1) Originally posted to Fanfiction.net, 2) I Blame Tumblr, 3) Crossover, 4) Additional Warnings in Author’s Note, and 5) Other: See More Story Notes. I think that it does represent me as a writer because sometimes I wrote very long warnings lists and author’s notes because I always have something to say.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics? I write a lot of stuff where someone’s not!straight because I myself am not straight. I also write quite a bit of romance because it does fascinate me, but I’m also drawn to platonic pairs with strong bonds too.

4. What detail in [insert fic] are you really proud of? I spent a lot of time researching stuff about Japan to make my Banana Fish manga AU where Ash joins Eiji on the plane to Japan called Best Laid Plans work. I looked up school schedules, cultural notes, train ride durations, flight durations, food, culture, 80’s history, Google street views, etc…etc… The ending ended up being a bit of a you love it or hate it ending unfortunately, but I am proud of the work I put in to make the fic happen.

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now! I don’t think I have any specific questions off the top of my head, but if anyone has some fic-specific questions, my inbox is always open for them

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself? I should have been more clear that in my Black Clover soulmate AU Names and Promises that Asta and Yuno are platonic soulmates and said their first words to each other.

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of? I’m really proud of my work on my BnHA/MHA soulmate AU Our Soulmate Academia because I fleshed so much out and had so much fun with things like quirk swapping and what life for an underground hero might entail, etc…It was also fun trying to guess what Horikoshi might do in the canon and try to avoid doing something too similar.

8. What song would make a great fic (to either write or read)? I want to do my Vampire Chronicles (AMC) inspired playlist as a fic series, but I do not have that kind of free time unfortunately.

9. How do you find new fic to read? Most of the time it’s whatever shows up via my subs in my inbox. But sometimes I just pick a fandom I want to read from and see what new fics are around

10. How do you decide what to write? Sometimes it’s based on a Tumblr post I read like my IwtV (AMC) crack fic We Have Thieves based on some Night Island (AMC) posts I’ve seen. Sometimes I’m filling in some blanks from canon like my Kakuriyo: Bed and Breakfast for Spirits fic Promises and Oaths where I hypothesized some things before the anime finished. Sometimes I watch something unrelated and it inspires a fic like the time I watched that Monuments Men movie and then wrote my Captain America Steve never becomes a super soldier AU called If No One Else Will. Sometimes I get inspired by other fics I’ve been reading like my Sherlock Holmes fic The Mystery in the Fog.

11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is? I’m a perseverative person by nature. Sometimes I blink and have like a handful of Devil’s Minion fics because it gives me brain worms or when I was in high school I always had an Inuyasha fic in my fic rotation because I loved that series so much. There was also a time I wrote too many Thick of It fics because I kept using the characters as a way to take a break from the novel I was working on at the time and several Tumblr users were giving me attention for those fics.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you? I started out pretty homophobic when I first started writing fanfic because I was very sheltered. Now I’m just very not straight and the characters I gravitate towards aren’t either. I also wasn’t into reading lemons but now I don’t mind them as long as there’s some sort of plot with it outside of the sexy times.

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore? I’m not sure. I’ve never really been big on searching out specific tropes, though sometimes I will go looking for stuff like those fics where someone swaps places with their younger self and the younger self gets to be in shock at their potential future.

14. Are there any tropes you would only read if written by a trusted friend or writer? If the AO3 author I trust the most wrote something like omegaverse I don’t think I would follow because that might be a step too squick for me.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written? I really like my Black Clover/Boruto crossover The Land Across the Sea where Boruto washes up on Clover’s beach, runs into the Black Bulls and Golden Dawn, and then some of both squads take him back to the Land of Fire, which is coincidentally the same country Yami came from. It was a speculation of what post-Spade Arc could be like written before the current Black Clover manga arc. (I wrote this because I think Yami and Naruto would have been friends growing up and they’re roughly about the same age if you take their ages at the start of their mangas in relation to publication year into account).

16. What’s an AU you would love to read (or have read and loved)? I think we need more Claudia lived fics in the IwtV (AMC) fandom. I also want to see Present Mic be more students’ mentor in fics.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it? I want to write a BnHA/MHA AU where Class A has to travel back in time to save Yagi kind of inspired by Tenchi in Love. I’ve written a chunk of it but I hit a wall and I can’t seem to move forward with it.

18. If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? I’m not sure. No one’s made any sequel requests in years.

19. If you wrote a spin-off of [insert fic], what would it involve? I want to take my IwtV (AMC) fic Dream a Memory of Me and remix it now that I have more memory and knowledge of what I should be doing with the characters. Louis also deserves to be utilized in a less haphazard way for the ending. Unfortunately I don’t have the time to do this so it’ll just have to be a testament to how much I was raring and ready to write Iwtv (AMC) fic that I didn’t take the time to refresh my memory properly before embarking on it.

20. If you wrote a prequel to [insert fic], what would it involve? I’m not sure but the novel I’m currently working on 100% could have a prequel but I think that might be too much for me because I’d have to delve deep into my time in middle and high school more so than I’m already doing for that novel.

21. If you wrote a “missing scene” in [insert fic], what would it be? Usually if a scene gets send to my dump file, there’s a good reason it’s not in the fic.

22. Who is your favorite character in [insert fic] and why? If it’s a Black Clover fic I’ve written, my favorite character is always Asta. He’s just so loud and friend shaped. I can’t help it. Like a little anime nephew.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to? I’ve written so many. I think counting the fics lost to time and space, I’ve written probably close to or just over 300 fics since 2001. I think a lot of the ones I want to do I’ve already done maybe even twice over.

24. Are there any Easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they? Occasionally I make small references but frequently they small enough I can’t think of them off the top of my head.

25. What other websites or resources do you use most often when you write? I usually just use Word, Excel, and Google to find things.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? No dialogue. Only dialogue can get confusing without being able to use said.

27. How long did it take to write [insert fic]? Describe the process. It took me a year and two months to get Our Soulmate Academia ready for posting. I wrote it as a giant first draft, edited it while breaking it into chapters, and then spot checked it before posting it. That’s the general way I do all my fics in the last few years. Makes it easy to finish chaptered fics.

28. Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who? I used a beta way back in the 2000’s, who proceeded to steal my fic and post it as their own so I’m the only person who reads them before I post them with the exception of Kitty who has severed as my Britpicker many times.

29. What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want! We Have Thieves has its own little mini mix technically. The songs I reference in the fic are: “Every Breath You Take” by The Police, “Holy Diver” by Dio, “Little Red Corvette” by Prince, “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads, and “Beat It” by Michael Jackson.

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? I wrote some smut for Best Laid Plans since part of the plot was unpacking Ash’s sexual trauma and sexuality. I kept it kind of simple and tried not to make it a spectacle. I’ve written other smut in some orphaned fics. Recently I had the opportunity to write smut in a couple of my IwtV AMC fics but I chose to fade out of the scenes instead because I don’t want to write smut in a manner that feels exploitative (which is why I orphaned the fics I did. I thought they were kind of exploitative and that’s just not how I want to be remembered).

31. What’s your ideal fic length to write? I’m not sure. I ordered my fics by word count and found that the 1,000 word mark occurs roughly half way down the list, so I think I just write whatever word count suits what the fic ends up being unless it’s a drabble that’s to a specific word count.

32. What’s your ideal fic length to read? Usually I try to keep it to under 10,000 unless I’m feeling ambitious or the fic summary is too good to pass up.

33. If you write chaptered fics, what’s your ideal chapter length to write? Is it different from your ideal chapter length to read? When I was in high school and university I would cap my chapters around 5,000 words especially because I was writing drafts without editing them and then just posting them like a weirdo. Now I like to write the whole thing out and if it’s over about 15,000/20,000 or so words I break it into multiple chapters of usually 5,000 – 10,000 words in length.

34. What aspects of your writing are inspired by/taken from your real life? I 100% used my own mom as inspiration for how to flesh Bakugou’s mom out in Our Soulmate Academia.

35. What aspects of your writing are completely unlike your real life? I have never been kissed. I can’t drink and I can’t drive. So, naturally I’m drawn to having a bit of romance in a good chunk of my fics because it fascinates me in the way that space or dinosaurs, etc… fascinate me.

36. Do you visualize what you read/write? If I can’t see a little movie playing in my head then I’m not going to be able to write it. This is also why I get compliments on my action sequences. I can easily visually keep track of everyone involved at all times.

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it? I wrote a My Life in Film and BBC Sherlock crossover called Distortion that I think worked out fairly well. I think the fact My Life in Film is an obscure TV show didn’t help it in the popularity department. I chose the crossover because Andrew Scott is in both shows.

38. Did any of your fics get surprisingly popular (whatever that means to you)? Which ones? Why do you think they were so successful? Only two of my fics have made it into people’s collections. They’re both Black Clover fics. The first one is Rest Young Soldiers which speculated on how the Spade Arc might end, and All Fortune Plays End where I speculated about how Asta’s devil powers might take over his body. I think I did a good job writing both fics.

39. Is any aspect of your writing process inspired by other writers or people? If so, who? It is not. I just do what works for my brain.

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? I do reread them. I like to reread my own as they come up on people’s bookmarks of my fics. I also have a trash memory so sometimes I reread fics when out looking for new ones and become that one Gandalf meme when I try to leave kudos.

41. Link a fic that made you think, “Wow, I want to write like that.” I have 28 recs out of 138 bookmarks and I feel this way about all of my recs.

42. Have you ever received a comment that particularly stood out to you for whatever reason? I got some flames back in my SPN days that graphically described how I should burn in hell for the fic I wrote. I also still think about the nice reviewer who complemented me on my Daniel characterization on my first IwtV AMC fic since that fic is pretty weak compared to my other ones in that fandom.

43. If you take/write prompts: what’s your favorite prompt fic that you’ve written? I’m not sure because I can’t remember which fics are prompt fics. But I always love writing them.

44. If you take/write prompts: do you prefer dialogue or scenario/narrative prompts? I don’t really have a preference. Though sometimes I’ll accidentally take it in a strange direction because that’s where inspiration took me.

45. What’s something you’ve improved on since you started writing fic? Editing hands down. I’ve gone from only running the spell check and immediately posting the first and only draft to doing a two round editing process.

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write? On my computer is preferred. Typing on my phone is obnoxious no matter what I’m doing.

47. If [insert fic] was a pair of shoes, what kind would it be? Describe the shoes. If my SPN fic Burn Mark were shoes, they’d have the mark of Michael branded into the toes and the soles would be made from metal like a cage. The leather would be well worn, possibly almost worn out and the shoe laces a little dirty.

48. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it? The last fic I read was the latest chapter of Only Human by bandedbulbussnarfblat. If human AUs for IwtV (AMC) aren’t your thing, then I highly recommend The Human Perspective by the same author.

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! I am currently working on my novel so no sharing.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about! I’m not really sure. I’ve been posting fic online since July of 2001. I have a lot of thoughts about it but not sure which to choose from. If people want to know more you all can always send me asks or messages about whatever questions you might have.

#darkangel1791 #adventures in fic writing #adventures in fic reading #fic recommendation #(it's one of the last questions)

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callyps0 · 2 months

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Presentation post <3 (Yeeeaah)

About me

Hello pal! My name is calliope and my silly nickname on this account is Callypso; you can call me whatever you want! . My pronouns are they/them/it.

Im eighteen years old and i really enjoy doctor who, yaelokre (and other folk bands), drawing, painting and writing. My main languages are English and Spanish (Spanish is my maternal language!)

The labels that I used are otherlink and the animal that represents me is a goat 🐐 I'm still figuring out if there's other label (maybe fictionkin but is just speculation) or if this labels really represents me, I'm still new with this identities (be kind to me! Pls)

Before you follow

I enjoy a lot to share the things that make me fell comfortable (my ears and my makeup) including some thinkings about how I fell.

I am making some goat-related/ non-human - related art that I will sharing here! Please, be free to repost <3

And maybe I made some Spanish post talking about something that botters me or something

Do not interact

Basic dni criteria (racist, homophobic, transphobe, etc)

Pro-z00

-16 (sorry! But you need to be safety on the internet pls)

Thinks that any non human expressions are invalid

Belives In the Cringe culture (the cringe culture is dead pls)

#nonhuman #presentation #otherlink #goatkin #im just suck with words sorry #still figuring it out #but that makes me happy #i think thats important #i am a handcraft fairy

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aromanticannibal · 2 years

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FANDOM RULES

none.

seriously, none.

no but really, you do what you want.

HOW TO NOT BE A BITCH IN FANDOM (or how to have a pleasant experience)

just let people ship whatever man

don't get offended by people saying they don't like a popular ship

stop seeing everything as romantic this is just for you and the world

it doesn't matter how much you know about the show or band or movie or book or whatever. it doesn't matter if you know the entirety of everything that's ever existed about this media or if you watched the first free episodes and gave up because you didn't like the fourth.

FANDOM IS MEANT FOR FUN. IT'S NOT A SERIOUS THING. IT'S FOR FUN.

this is just a personal advice but you'll have way more fun and be more chill (ha) once you stop caring about discourse.

NUANCE IS A THING. things aren't black and white.

you don't need to justify yourself for anything. like what character you like.

BLOCK PEOPLE. block people who make your fandom experience unpleasant. again, this is fun. you're not supposed to be getting more stress from a side hobby.

its fine if your art or your writing isn't "good enough". no ones paying you to just post stuff on the internet! do you know how happy I am to see someone else thought of this situation or ship or friendship or whatever? as long as your art exists, your art is good enough

this applies especially to tumblr but reblog things. I'm begging you. it's whats making this website work. for ao3 fics, share them on tumblr or whatever socials you do fandom in, bookmark them, leave comments, put them in collections. artists will be so thankful.

CRINGE CULTURE IS DEAD. IT'S A ROTTING BIT OF FUMING FUCKERY AND IT SUCKS. love what you love. idc if your favorite show is peppa pig, so be it. as long as you have fun and don't hurt anyone, and I don't think peppa pig is very hurtful (expect for that one frog)

don't make fandom your only hobby. touch some grass as we say.

just have fun. genuinely.

#fandom #fanbase #tumblr

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bisexual-horror-fan · 2 years

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Hey!! Super weird, out of nowhere question, that you totally don't have to answer, but how do you like, deal with doing/being into reader insert stuff at your age? Which sounds bad, but what I mean is like I'm only a couple of years younger than you and I still read these things and I'm starting to feel very self conscious and 🤢 about it (like, I know cringe culture is dead - but is it though?) - like I just feel bad about it, and I don't want to feel about it because it's fun and it's not hurting anyone, but I don't know how to remain confident in it like you! So if you have any thoughts/insight on this, I would really appreciate it <3 Or feel free to delete/ignore this weird, random ask

I saw this early this morning before going to work and am just now getting the chance to sit down to respond. I wanna be perfectly honest, totally open and as candid as I can.

I’m an ex-catholic and a big part of that faith and church is feeling bad, feeling regret over your actions, constantly begging for forgiveness and basically things of this Earth that makes you happy are a sin. So I left the church with a big fat fuuuuuck you to that. Life is way too short to not do what you want or what makes you happy. I am not about to feel bad for a single second or apologise for what makes me happy/gets me off when it’s harmless.

On the real I don’t think about it. Like I don’t think about what I write or consume or enjoy being cringe or whatever, it doesn’t cross my mind. I like it and that is more than enough. It took a long time to feel myself this much and get this happy and confident with myself, it wasn’t easy but man is it worth it. Just look at all the negative feelings inside about this and ask is it productive? Why are you preventing yourself from being happy and enjoying this with your whole heart?

You might just find that those feelings are not worth it and pushing yourself to just indulge can make you much happier.

#BHF asks #Life is too short to not be horny!#Live for you Anon!

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1167

surveys by emptyliketheocean

Brand of cigarettes you smoke? I don’t smoke cigarettes, or at least I never buy my own packs.

Should you be trusted with a person's life? Idk, that’s for them to decide.

How's your life in general? I lost two relatives from Covid this week alone. So, not very dandy. Still in shock. Waiting for it to all finally crash down so I can grieve and mourn properly. Scared of more losses and hoping there aren’t any more to come.

Have you ever put lipstick on anything besides lips? I don’t wear makeup, but when my friends have put some on me in the past there were a couple of times they dabbed lipsticks on my cheeks.

Have you ever picked a fight you knew you would lose? Metaphorically speaking, yeah. I don’t get into physical fights.

What's something you think is crazy about the world? The concept of centibillionaires and the fact that there are multiple ones who exist.

What do you think about religion? I think the only upside to it is how it has helped save lives for some and how it serves as a guide for others to spread good in the world. Like if your religion has given you purpose and strength, that’s great. But ultimately, I’m not a fan and I most definitely don’t think religion is necessary to be a kind person. In fact, I think it works the opposite...most of the homophobes, misogynists, pro-lifers, and sexists I know are from the Christian faith. Cringe.

What about when religion causes violence? Well I definitely have a bone to pick with this lol. The only reason the Philippines is predominantly Catholic today is precisely that when the Spanish arrived, they used violence to forcingly convert Filipinos - who were then living in peace with their own culture, government, and religion system - to Christianity. And now we’re ‘celebrating’ 500 years of Christianity in the country this year, which was always so off to me because why are we celebrating colonization lol????????????? But anyway, yeah, that is another issue I have with religion. I want nothing to do with it.

What color is one of your hats? I have an off-white summer hat but I have literally never used it in public because it’s huge and it’s 100% going to draw attention.

How do you feel? My shoulders are sore and I’m feeling slightly irritated because of them. I’m also starting to get a bit hungry.

Have you ever gotten in trouble for laughing? A few times.

Something that makes you smile: Free food.

What do you think about surveys with lyrics as the title? Surveys with random lyrics usually end up being the ones with interesting questions, so I actually am more likely to check it out.

Do you have any clothes with small holes in them? Maybe one or two.

Do you think the way you live is really okay? I think I am already quite fortunate with what I have considering what others don’t, so it’s definitely been a while since I have complained about anything during this whole Covid situation, living-situation-wise. Even though we’ve lost a few things, like having to sell one of our cars and with my mom being retrenched, we still get by and have a roof over our heads with working water and electricity and a stocked pantry; and I make enough money to hand a portion of it to my parents twice a month and still treat myself with things I want. There is nothing to bitch about.

Do you know anyone other than a cop who has ever owned a cop car? No.

Have you ever felt fire? No, but electricity, yes. I’ve been shocked before but that was also my own fault lol.

Have you ever seen a person light themselves on fire? Jesus no.

Have you ever used crutches when you didn't need them? Yes. I used to horse around with Katreen’s crutches when she injured her legs in 3rd grade, when she wasn’t using them.

If you had 15 beers you would be: Dead.

Are you as bored as I am? No, I’m good.

Why are you taking this survey? I feel like it.

What would you say if a person asked you why your face was so messed up? “How do you want me to react?” Easiest way to shut a person up and passive aggressively tell them to watch what they say.

What would you do if your first love asked you back out? Be very confused and ask why the sudden decision.

What's your home life like? It’s very routine, due to having to stay at home. I work a 9–6 on weekdays, follow that up with dinner, and use a few hours to scroll through social media until it’s time to sleep. Then on weekends I use the free time to recharge by taking surveys and watch videos of whoever and whatever I’m interested in at the moment. Just waiting for all of this to blow over so I can finally do the things I’m meant to be doing.

Do you have a talent that you don't do anything with? I don’t write a lot for myself these days. I do write frequently for work, which is great - press releases, event scripts, all your PR essentials - but I don’t get stimulated enough since everything is written in the same tone. I really should pick up a notebook and pen soon...

Do you know anyone that is a lesbian? Yes. Not that she’s in my life anymore.

What do you think about your mom? I think she tries her best. But I wish she were more emotionally in touch. And that she starts being politically correct.

What do you think about your dad? He’s worked hard and continues to, and I appreciate all his efforts; and I can’t wait to be able to buy him all the things he wants.

Which parent do you respect the most? Who do you think? Hahahaha.

Is there anything someone could lie to you about that you couldn't forgive? I suppose, like cheating.

Who do you love unconditionally? My two best friends.

Pick an element. Oooookay? Zirconium.

Have you ever wasted a great amount of time and felt horrible about it? It always feels that way on weekends these days because there’s only so much that can be done while stuck at home because of Covid. But I do try to justify it by telling myself I already work too hard during weekdays so it’s ok to bum around at home and do nothing, because using the time to recharge is still productive.

What is something that's been said about you that isn't true? My mom has said a lot of hurtful things directed towards me that I internalized for a very long time, but I’ve since gained the strength to no longer let those words get to me.

Who do you want with you when you're scared? Anyone who can be calm while I’m not.

Know any bands that not many people have heard of? Many of the punk bands I listen to are virtually unknown on this side of the planet.

Do you have any advice for people in general? Don’t be racist.

What's something you like to do in the summer? Complain about the heat.

What's something you like to do in the winter? We don’t get winter here, but I’ve always thought I would love snow if I ever saw it, and that I would probably make a lot of snow angels and play snowball fights.

What do you think about marijuana? I don’t have a strong opinion on it as it’s still a very taboo topic where I’m from and I’ve also been lacking on research. I do know people who use it for recreational purposes and I’ve never been against that.

Do you wish anyone death? Just politicians.

Have you ever felt like you weren't getting anywhere with a person? Yes, it felt that way for a long time. I just was too afraid of confrontation to do anything about it.

What do you feel for the person you first fell in love with? Resentment and a whole lot of nothing.

Where are you? I’m in my bedroom.

Are you waiting for something? Hmm, not necessarily.

Who is someone you just think has a hole in their brain? People who still think Covid is a hoax.

A candy you like? Gummy anything.

Does any part of your body hurt at the moment? My shoulders and neck, hence the neck pillow I’ve since put on while taking this.

Explain how you got the last bruise you had. I honestly have no clue. I currently have a big black circle on my right thigh that just suddenly showed up, and I can’t recall a time I must’ve hit it somewhere.

Are you tired? A little bit because I got up as soon as I woke up, but I wanted to maximize my free time this Sunday before another work week starts. Last Friday would be our last non-working holiday in a while and we’re not getting another one until August. :(

Explain how you got a scar you have. A distant cousin hurled a glass jar towards me when I was 3, during a family reunion. He initially went for my eye because I guess he wanted to blind me, but he missed and ended up hitting my eyebrow instead. My mom has since banned him from talking to me ever since, and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him since the incident.

Have you ever owned anything illegal? Illegal copies of movies I’ve torrented, sure.

What do you dream about? The most random scenarios. I’ll get the occasional nightmare, but those only happen when I’m going through a period of depression.

Do you ever daydream? Not anymore these days.

How do you feel about vegetarians? I don’t really think anything of them. There are days I’ll particularly feel for them because there aren’t a lot of restaurants with good vegetarian options where I live, though.

A fruit you like: Avocado, in very limited options.

Have you ever seen a person eat a bug? Only bugs that were already prepared a certain way and meant to be eaten; but I’ve never seen a person that just picked up a bug off the ground and went straight to chewing. I imagine I would freak out and gag.

Something you worry about too much: How much is in my bank account.

How do you feel about smoking? I hate how the smell clings to your clothes and all your things when you’ve been smoking or when you’ve been around people who smoke. I also wince when people pose with their cigarettes just to look badass and cool; but as someone who’s since picked up vaping as a habit, my once-intense hatred for smoking and smokers has since changed lol.

If you had to move out of state, where would you go? I would move to a big city. Somewhere noisier and with a lot of lights and foot traffic and general activity.

What is your favorite vampire-related movie? The Twilight Saga hahahahahaha

Is there a person you keep coming back to? My best friends, I guess?

If you're listening to music...Give me a lyric from the song you're listening to. I’m not listening to anything.

#survey #surveys

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isaidyoulookshitty · 4 years

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i really don’t understand the vitriol towards fanfiction writers on this fucking website??? like it’s just a fun hobby. i have never ever fucking met a fic writer who thinks their writing is like professional grade or whatever the way some of y’all claim and make fun of them for. most are actually extremely self conscious about it. they’re just doing something because it’s fun. it’s a hobby.

like...... i hate the stupid “let people enjoy things” meme that gets thrown around because i’m a firm believer in being critical of any and all media you consume and that people should be held responsible for what they create, but can you just. shut the fuck up with your weird hate boner towards people having fun writing little stories for things they’re into. it’s literally not that deep.

considering a lot of fanfic writers are neurodivergent, myself included, it’s honestly just fucking mean. you’re being fucking mean about a harmless hobby that someone else just uses to pass the time or express themselves creatively. and don’t get me wrong, i personally don’t feel like i have to defend myself to anyone, but it does get kind of old lol. there’s no difference between what you’re doing now and what the bullies you went to school with did to the horse girls or the kids who liked anime. anyone who wasn’t really ashamed of the things they were interested in. y’all like to scream about how cringe culture is dead but god forbid someone mention the word fanfiction, then you’re all up in arms about how it’s not “real writing” or that you can’t believe anyone would ever take it seriously

and no, i am absolutely not talking about the weird, skeevy kind of inappropriate shit you see in a lot of fan communities. that is in NO WAY limited to fanfiction. truthfully you’ll find people trying to justify their trash opinions and gross fetishes in all kinds of places, not just ao3 or whatever.

i’m not going to sit here and champion the idea that fanfic is an art form and it’s super deep or what the fuck ever, but i don’t really see anyone saying the same tired, hashed out shit about fan artists, or cosplayers, or handcrafts, or any other type of self expression people use to celebrate the works of art they’re passionate about. if it’s not for you then just. move on. don’t read it. the shitty part though is that i know some of the people saying this kind of stuff DO read fanfic!!!! how fucked is that lol. sorry, but you don’t get to shit on these people for writing fic and then turn around and benefit from what amounts to free entertainment from hours of work they’ve put into the thing they love. that’s some real clown shit

it really takes no fucking effort on your part to not be an asshole but surprise of all surprises y’all still find the time and the energy to do it. damn. hope all of you get well soon

#fanfiction

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crushedbyhyperbole · 5 years

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Disco Ball Diva

A/N: For @buckyshelves Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy this and have a great festive holiday

To @bucky-smiles for organising this secret Santa gift exchange, you’re awesome and so, so kind

Also... thank you to my friend Haz who beta read this for me. You are always so supportive of my writing and I love you

Summary: You’re inappropriate, sassy, have snazzy powers, and now you’re an Avenger-in-training. Not everyone appreciates your blasé attitude, and when a surveillance mission goes south you’re thrown together with one hot brooding super soldier. It doesn’t help that you can’t stop ogling his bum.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers

Word Count: 7k. I actually feel bad that it’s so long.

Warnings: Violence, gun violence, Bucky kills people, mentions of blood and injury, bad language (which is a given for me), some sexual tension (light) but mostly just reader is an asshat XD

The Avengers compound is not like you imagined it. Or maybe it is but you haven’t found any of the secret stuff yet. Hidden jet hangers under the basketball court, labs in the basement, glass cases full of superhero suits. Wait. That’s the freakin’ X-Men.

Still, it’s nothing like you hoped. The conference rooms are boring, obviously, because meetings are the epitome of dull. The communal lounge and kitchen are both boring; there’s no espresso machine that doubles as a drone, no fridge that transforms into sentry bot, there isn’t even a SodaStream. Yawn! You don’t even need to see the fitness suite to know that it’s not a place you want to visit, and you’re not allowed below the ground floor yet. Talk about not trusting the noob.

Your room is a vision of extreme lacklustre, but you only moved in yesterday, so, no redecorating just yet, save for the peace lily your brother gave you.

Congrats on your new job and home by the way, here’s a half-dead plant I had but couldn’t be bothered to look after. Now it’s yours. Enjoy!

Your super power is definitely not green thumbs, nurturing life, healing, or anything even a tiny bit supportive. You can’t fly, don’t have super strength, speed, or a crazy-good aim. There’s not a green rage-monster just below the surface waiting to erupt and smash things. Well, if someone steals your cookies you might have to choke a bitch but hey, rainbows are cool, right? Super distracting, like oh hey, what’s all this shiny shit flashing around? Oh dayum, I totally didn’t see that badass super warrior coming to kick my ass.

You swallow hard. The small conference room feels like an interrogation room despite the polished wood table and plush leather chairs. Of four sets of eyes that are currently watching you, only one pair is encouraging.

Tony Stark. The guy who recruited you. Took you from a life of selling hotdogs on street corners in the City and apartment sharing with a crazy cat lady called Angie who you found on Craigslist. You had nothing against crazy cat ladies, per se, but you would prefer it if the pissy smell was optional. Angie had opted in, hence why you jumped at the chance to opt out. Ugh.

“Rainbows?” The scowly but buff brunette with the dreamy blue eyes and robotic arm, scoffs mockingly. “You project rainbows?”

The equally buff blonde who you suspect might be Captain America (or maybe his stunt double) snickers, his head lowered to hide his amusement. Does Captain America have a stunt double, for like, TV appearances and meetings with officials, and stuff? You’ll ask later. Right now, you’re annoyed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, fist-of-victory!” You snap your fingers like the queen you are. “Am I too snazzy for you? Do my rainbows ruin the whole Neanderthal vibe you got going on there?”

Loud snorts and chuckles pull you back. The redheaded vixen you know already as Black Widow is pinching her nose to stifle her laughter, and Tony is looking to the heavens in askance but emotional stability is not forthcoming.

“Wow.” The brunette says flatly.

“Fist of victory.” Tony ponders, eyes twinkling. “I like that.” He levels an amused gaze at you, rolling his next words around in his mouth. “Manchurian candidate is a little out-dated, wouldn’t you say, Barnes? Ready for an upgrade?”

Oh shit! Your eyes get big. The brunette is none other than the infamous Winter Soldier. You should have known by the arm. Show no weakness! Your brain screams.

“What’s the official title for that skill, you have?” Steve Rogers has gotten his face to cooperate, now there’s no trace of a smirk. “Light manipulation?”

“Walking disco ball.” You put on the light show again, manipulating the effects so the lights are dancing across the, now stormy grey, eyes of one Sergeant Barnes.

“It’s definitely distracting.” Natasha says objectively. “Could be useful.”

“See! That’s what I said!” You punch the air, sending the lights into a frenzy.

“I have a theory.” Tony is playing his cards close to his chest still. “That’s why y/n is here. She’s agreed to work with us, and at the very least she can be a supportive member of the team.”

“Team, frickin’, playahhh!” You holler, earning a concerned look from Rogers and a downright obnoxious groan from Barnes. “What? What you complaining at? You fucking love me already!”

The truth was that you didn’t know how your ability worked. You could feel it when you did your thang, like the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and the air in your hand felt stiff and substantial.

Better not talk about hands full of substantial stiff things around grandad Tony, he might kick the bucket.

You could manipulate the amount of reflections in your light show by making the air heavier, make them move, dance, even adjust the size of them a little. Agreeing to work with The Avengers had been a no brainer; you get paid, get a place to stay that isn’t full of the stench of sadness and cat piss, and you get to find out more about your ability. Win, win, win.

+++ A couple of weeks later +++

“You really expect me to take Rainbow Brite on this mission?” Barnes has his arms crossed across his chest, refusal crinkling his brown and pursing his lips into a thin line. The guy looks hot in tac gear. One bicep straining against the material, the other is obviously free and oh-so-fucking-awesome. Thighs tight under those black tac pants, thigh holster accenting the flex of muscle as he shifts his weight. Wait-what!?

“Wait a fucking minute!” You squawk. “Rainbow Brite? Oh, hell no!” You march up to him, similarly decked out in black gear that makes you look like some tiny recruit in ill-fitting body armour instead of badass like him.

There’s a smirk on his perfect mouth now, dusky pink lips lop-sided with amusement, and the twinkle in his eyes is more than a little alluring. What the fuck?

“Huh.” You stop your tirade, blinking, baffled. He’s playing with you. Trying to get you pissed so you’ll refuse to go, or maybe he wants you to go so you’ll make a fool of yourself and Tony will see you’re not useful. Too many mind-games already, you don’t have the patience for this shit, so you go with an insult instead. “If I’m Rainbow fucking Brite then that makes you Twink. Dink!”

“Well, he does epitomise my sparkling personality.” Sardonic, deadpan. It’s classic brooding Barnes and you’re almost proud that he got an 80’s pop culture reference. Almost.

“And they did rename him Mr fucking Glitters back in 2014.” You pout, adopting his stance, arms crossed.

“Perfect!” Tony pops m&ms into his mouth, turning away dismissively. “Rainbow Brite and Mr Glitters it is. Head to the carpool, there’s a vehicle waiting for you both.”

There was no getting away from this mission. You’d grumbled, griped, whined, and begged Tony to send you with anyone but Broody Barnes but the Iron Man was true to his alter ego, he did not budge.

You are about to take a few pot shots at him in the insults department when Barnes’s voice comes over the earpiece you have already been fitted with.

“Earth to disco ball. Get in the damn car already.”

“It’s disco diva to you, giant cocksicle.”

He laughs at that and is still grinning when you slide into the passenger seat beside him.

“You’ve got some mouth on you, kid.” Was that acceptance? Admiration? Whatever it was it looked good on him.

“Yeah, you know you want my mouth.” It sounded better in your head but now that it’s out it can’t be taken back. Barnes looks a little frowny but at least he’s got nothing to say so you can quietly die in peace.

Can someone cringe so much they die? You might find out.

The mission is surveillance. Low-key observations of a facility out in Nova Scotia that makes products for iGoddess, a beauty company owned and run by Gabrielle Porter, the niece of one Alexander Pearce, crime syndicate king-pin and scumbag extraordinaire.

You know the company; you buy their stuff. Well, you do now you can afford it and it’s not wasted under the scent of cat urine and bleach. How can a company so devoted to making women feel special and empowered be mixed up with drugs, weapons and human trafficking? Fucking bullshit, that’s what it is.

Bucky had ditched the car in the parking lot of a lake-side leisure and visitors centre about fifteen miles away, and with gaudy waterproof outerwear over your tac gear, you had begun the hike that would set you smack-bang in the middle of nowhere good. Posing as hikers had been Tony’s brief but you’re cold and bored, and your body aches from being on the solid ground.

You’re both lay just behind the crest of a hill a little way away from your target building. Bucky mutters his observations into his comms as you look through your own binoculars trying to see what he’s looking at. He’s talking guard numbers and movements, the weapons they carry, security features and people entering or leaving the facility. It’s no use, you’re not cut out for this. Surveillance is soul destroying. You’d rather be interred in Tony’s kitchen, at least there’s coffee there.

Not even an hour in and you’re itching to get up and move around. The hike had gotten your blood pumping but now you’re going stir-crazy, joints tingling with the need for motion.

Boring. Boring. But at least you can entertain yourself. Where there’s light there’s beauty and you tease the air through your gloves, finding that your skin doesn’t need to be bare for you to create the effect. Well whadd’ya know.

“There’s movement.” Bucky warns. “Looks like some of the guards are exiting the compound.”

You snort, they’re probably bored too.

“A Jeep and a couple of motorbikes, moving quickly.”

“Sounds like they’re going home.” You mumble, focused on the lights in your hand.

“They’re headed this way.” He curses. “Grab your- What the HELL are you doing?”

Bucky tackles you to the ground from where you were on your knees almost at the hill’s crest.

“Asshole!” You’re trying to get away from him but he pins you to the ground.

“I’m the asshole?” He complains as he rolls off you, sliding down the hill on his ass, shoving his gear unceremoniously into his backpack. “Mission compromised.”

“What happened?” Tony’s disembodied voice doesn’t sound happy.

“We were spotted.” At the bottom of the hill, Bucky starts picking a path through the rocks and small fissures hidden by the wild grass and heathers. A quick glance back tells him you’re not following; you’re caught.

“Uh, hi, guys.” You chuckle nervously as one of the guards levels an assault rifle at you. “Would you believe we’re winners of a free weekend iGoddess Spa?”

Bucky is livid. If it had just been him, he could have taken them out and escaped, but, no. Tony had to insist that he bring you, show you the ropes, look after you. Babysit you.

He snorts. You don’t need a minder you need to be put in a padded room where you can’t inflict any more of your weird bullshit on him. Fucking rainbows. What kind of skill is that, other than one that gets you caught?

Eight hours ago you were both doing great. There’d been some small-talk in the car, he’d opened up a little and you’d responded. Even on the hike over you’d been great, your filthy mouth was a source of much amusement for him, and you’d listened. His instructions were followed close enough to the letter, and he was happy. Everything was good.

Now it’s all fallen to shit and he’s locked up in a heavy-duty restraint chair that brings back memories of dark places and dark times for him. To his side, you’re slumped forward in a regular wooden chair, cable-ties binding your wrists and ankles to the wood, pulling at your skin, making your hands and feet turn blue. How the hell are you both supposed to get out of this?

He’s watching the movements of your chest that tell him you’re still breathing. The cut on your head has stopped bleeding but you’re drooling blood-tainted saliva down your grey rash-guard. Both of you had been stripped down to your undergarments and checked for hidden weapons. He was the first to be incapacitated as they’d used you as leverage, holding a gun to your head until he complied, stripped, and submitted to the chair. When they’d took away your gear you’d fought and Bucky had seen red; he’d strained against the chair until the butt of a gun to the head had put a stop to that. When he came to you were out cold, beaten and bloody. How hard had you fought?

Your feet and hands are turning purple now. The weight of your body pulling the restraints against your skin is making the plastic ties dig deep, cutting off the circulation.

“Y/n?” Bucky hisses, hoping the noise doesn’t prompt the guards to come back. “Y/n! Wake up!”

The room you’re in looks like an interview room. Two-way mirror, camera in the corner, reinforced door with heavy-duty locks that were strangely not engaged. It’s grey and cold, and the only things in the room are the two chairs and you two. The device Bucky is locked into is bolted into the floor; a permanent feature, like they expected him or maybe Steve. He tests the chair again. It creaks but doesn’t give. He’d have to really put some brute strength into it to break out, and that would create too much noise. He’d wait.

“Y/n!” A little louder now, and you stir.

He keeps talking to you, just bullshit words, what he wants for dinner, what film he’s going to watch when he’s home safe. Anything to help draw you back to consciousness.

“You wana watch a film with me, y/n?” He thought for sure you’d tell him to go fuck himself.

You moan, head lolling as you come back to him.

“Hey! Rainbow Brite!”

“Fuck you.” It’s a whisper but he’ll take it.

“There she is.” He allows himself a relieved smile. “C’mon, sweetheart. I need you to sit up for me. Take the weight off those ties before there’s any permanent damage.”

It takes a few more moments before you can shuffle yourself properly into the chair, then you’re flexing your hands and feet to get the blood moving again.

“Oh-god-it-hurts-so-fucking-bad!” You are practically wailing as the pins and needles sensation in your extremities reaches a peak. The slightest movement now sends a cacophony of intense pain into your limbs.

“It’ll be over soon.” Bucky sooths.

“Why are you being nice to me after I got us caught?” You eye him suspiciously, flapping your hands to rush the blood into your fingers. Rip the band aid off. “Is this some kind of prank? Ohhhhhhh! This is an initiation isn’t it? Oh, I see. Where’s Iron Doosh? Hey! Tony!”

“Would you shut up? This is real. We’re really captured.” Bucky hisses.

“Tony Stank, Skank, Spah-hank.” You sing-song as you struggle against your restraints, examining your bound feet through spread knees. “I hope this is one of the chairs from his good dining set.” You stand, leaning forward and centring your weight above your bent knees.

“What are you doing?”

“Just need to…” You shuffle over to the mirror.

“No, y/n, wait!” Bucky begs. “Don’t break the glass.” His frantic expression says the rest. Your feet are bare and you’ll shred yourself to ribbons.

“What? You’re crazy. Why would I do that?” You chuckle, amused that he’s so worried. “There’s no one in there.” You wink at him. “They’d be in here by now if there were.”

You shuffle a bit more and grunt as you throw yourself backward to the ground. The chair cracks but doesn’t break.

“Fuck!” You struggle some more, grunting and groaning like a butch female tennis player in a grand slam. One of the arms loosens and you fight against the wood until you get your left hand free, then you’re reaching into your hair for a bobby pin to jam into the clasp of the cable tie on your right arm.

Moments later, you’re free and rushing to Bucky who is fighting against his own restraints. There’s sweat beading on his bare chest and his hair is sticking to his forehead. A quick swipe of your hand clears his brow and he stills, watching you as you search the chair for whatever mechanism has him trapped.

“There’s a big red lever at the back.” You muse. “You think it’s an ejector seat?” A cheeky wink. “If I sit in your lap we can both go for a ride.” You don’t have time for giggling and flirtation, but you do it anyway.

“Y/n.” Bucky chastises lightly.

“What? This is every girl’s wet dream. Every, damn, girl.” You mumble as you grip the handle. “And I can’t even enjoy it.”

“Just pull the damn thing already. We don’t have time to mess around.”

“Pity.” You tug the lever and a loud hiss fills the room, pressure releasing from the chair.

Bucky is on his feet and at the door before you make three steps. He’s rubbing his right forearm where the metal clamps had bitten into his flesh, there’s blood there too, long ago dried.

“There’s movement out there.” He has his ear to the door. “I need a weapon, we need our gear, and we need a vehicle.”

“I need some chocolate and bottle of wine.”

“What?”

“Are we not making a shopping list?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs your wrist. “C’mon.”

With the door cracked open, Bucky can see movement at the end of the corridor; there’s a security room which is promising for retrieving your gear, but not if you want to avoid being seen.

“Stay behind me.” He pushes you towards his back.

You look down at his bum. “No problem.” You sigh and then you’re moving, your hand on his bare back so you can feel where he’s moving next.

Bucky suddenly shoves you down into a squat, shushing you with a finger held against his lips. The way he moves is like water, smooth and forceful, carrying the momentum of his body towards a lone guard who has paused at the corner by the security room. How he hasn’t seen you is a miracle but the man doesn’t even hear Bucky until the his own knife is slipped from its sheath and into the his temple. There’s no sound, no gurgling, not even much blood. Bucky lowers the body to the floor and cleans the knife on the pants of the dead man.

Looking at him now, you can see why people fear him. His expression is cold, calculating, and focused. It’s necessary, the distance he puts between himself and the act of killing. Even when Bucky was him, there was always a distance; a gap between him and his orders. Now the killing is his choice and he has to live with that, there’s no excuse of mind control now. This is all him.

The security room has one guard inside who is overpowered moments after Bucky opens the door.

Fucking amateurs, you think. Does that room not have cameras that cover the door and surrounding corridors?

Turns out that it does and the reason the guard hadn’t seen you was because he was sexting his girlfriend.

“Sexting?”

“Yeah. Like sex role play and talking dirty over text.” You snort. “Jeez, you’re old.”

“What can I say? You’re broadening my horizons.” He winks then and it’s so out of place in this grim situation that you laugh nervously. “Sounds fun.”

“Well don’t take tips from this guy.” You wave his phone in the air loosely. “He’s fucking terrible at it.”

“What’s bad about it?”

You’re not sure if he means to ask that, he’s busy trying to get outside communication through the phones which seem to be keycode protected and also checking through the security feeds to see if he can find your gear and a way out of this for you both; he’s clearly distracted. At least he’s happy now that he has a pair of handguns and a pair of knives, no weapons for you because you haven’t completed your firearms training yet. But let’s face it, who would arm you anyway? You were a disaster waiting to happen.

“He’s a bit of a wham-bam-thankyou-ma’am kinda guy.” You chuckle. Bucky is going to regret starting you off down this line of conversation. “His poor woman has probably never experienced even mediocre sex with this schmuck if his sext skills are anything to go by.”

“Too eager to bury the bone?” Bucky sounds distant, but he is listening to you as he checks drawers for weapons, keys and anything else that might be useful. God knows your gear was nowhere to be found.

“Check it.” You hop up on the desk near him and scroll through the laughable chat. You feel slightly guilty reading this guy’s private shit but he’s dead so he isn’t going to care. Reading from the chat, you do fake voices. “So she’s like ‘hey baby, you free tonight? I got something for you.’ Peach emoji, cat emoji. And he’s like ‘you off your period? Can we bang?’ I mean, what the fuck dude?”

Bucky is smirking when you look at him. “What did she say?” He straps both thigh holsters to his almost naked body. It’s comical how he’s gearing up from salvaged stuff wearing only a pair of skin-tight spandex shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Once Bucky is packing (in more ways than one, now) you have to force your eyes elsewhere.

“’Yeah, baby! I missed you so bad. Can’t wait to be in your arms again.’ She just wants lovin’ y’know?” You spoke the line in a soft, breathy voice. Fake, of course.

“And what did he say?” Bucky is checking the monitors one last time before he moves to the door.

“You like a bit of sexting? Huh, Barnes?” You smirk, eying him mischievously. “Living vicariously through the sexting chronicles of Captain Dick-Down over there?”

“Just looking to know what not to do if the opportunity for sexting ever arises.” It’s light-hearted and completely unlike the grumpy Bucky you’re used to. Maybe there was something in the air; sex pollen or something. That’s totally a thing. “C’mon.” He says after a moment, eyes twinkling with mirth, soft lips pulling up to the side in a cute smile. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

It’s comedy gold, the pair of you running the halls of an apparently secret part of the factory, him in his tight little shorts and you in your panties and spandex t-shirt over a sports bra that makes your rack look like a uni-boob. You awkwardly tug your rash-guard down over your ass whenever Bucky is behind you and you’re thankful you didn’t wear a thong though that would be better than skid marks. God, you hoped you’d not shat yourself when they beat you.

You barely encounter anyone until you’re almost at the warehouse; Bucky is so stealthy that even with you hindering him, he only has to subdue one foreman and drag you into a cleaning supply closet once, to avoid a pair of patrolling guards. Not that you’re complaining, being squashed up against an almost naked super soldier gave you endless thrills, even if he was all stiff and awkward about it.

Bucky stalls before the double doors that lead to the warehouse. There’s a heavy plastic strip curtain over the exit too, it’s almost opaque with age and hinders your view of what is beyond the meshed safety-glass of the door’s small windows.

“They know we’re coming.” He whispers to you, mere inches away. “There’s a lot of them out there and I can’t keep you safe if you disobey orders. So, please,” he begs, “please do as I tell you.”

He begs so sweetly, you think, blushing. But you’re not one for passing an opportunity for inappropriate comments.

“I’ll be a good girl, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes, feigning innocent. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Really?” Bucky doesn’t know whether to blush or be annoyed. You never seem to take anything seriously; it’s always a joke, or something you can twist to your amusement. He gets doubly serious. “If you die, it’s on me. You think I haven’t lost enough people over the course of my very long life? You think I want to wash your blood off my skin later tonight? Bury you alongside all the other people lost to some fight or other in the name of SHIELD or the Avengers? I can’t save you if you don’t want to be saved.”

You watch him as he fervently tries to convey the dire nature of your situation, desperate to make you understand that he doesn’t want you to die here, he cares. His eyes are piercing and your heart is a ricocheting bullet in your chest. What if you don’t make it out ok? What if this is it for you? Both of you? Suddenly, you’re acutely aware that Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, Fist of HYDRA come Fist of Victory, has cleared himself a little spot in your fucked-up soul, and is there to stay. You don’t want him to get killed because of you, but there’s nothing you can do, you’re not trained for this, or at all really.

You nod once, not trusting your voice in that moment. You could choke on your words or you could vomit all over yourself. It’s a lottery, so you say nothing.

“Good girl.” He gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “Stay behind me. Be quick, keep low, don’t hesitate, and for Christ’s sake no disco ball.” There’s a small smile tempting the corners of his lips, like he’s saying he forgives you for getting you both into this mess. “Ok, sweetheart, lets go.”

Out in the warehouse there’s a whole host of guards and workers, patrolling and overseeing shipments being loaded into lorries. It look like it’s important, and probably why the majority of the facility is clear of security staff; the merchandise is being moved.

It’s a mad dash, crouching low as you ghost around the edge of the warehouse. The huge rows of stacks are packed full of boxes and crates, further obscuring your movement around the area. Bucky is silent, especially since he’s barefoot; he’s every bit the assassin he’s hyped to be, but you can’t take him seriously padding around almost naked with the top of his crack showing and his junk all jiggly in the front.

A radio crackles to life. Three personel down. Prisoners have escaped. Cameras last caught them headed your way.

They must have found the bodies.

“They’re in here somewhere.” A man says, loud and authoritative. “Search the rows, shoot to kill. They’re not low-life mob goons, they’re Avengers and can’t be allowed to live.”

Well that settles that, you think, gone are the chances of mere bodily harm. It’s death or death.

You watch in awe as Bucky scales a nearby stack to stalk one of the patrolling guards. When his opportunity arises he yanks the man up by the throat, snapping his neck in the process. You can’t help but admire that metal arm, so sleek and powerful. You groan, light and lusty, earning you a concerned look from the owner of said appendage.

Killing that guard has yielded an assault rifle, another knife and another handgun. You’d think Bucky would be too smart to arm you but apparently he’s not. Silently he points to his eye and then to the gun where he shows you how to turn off the safety, puts the gun in your hand and moves behind you to adjust your grip. He aims for you, pressing his chest against your back and you swear you can feel his junk against your ass. Once he’s satisfied that you aren’t going to injure yourself, he’s gone from behind you, crouching low at the end of the row.

He grabs another guard and drags him backward. The struggle is louder than he would have liked, and the man got out a partial shout before his throat was closed forever but Bucky is hopeful that he can thin the numbers down enough to make it possible to get you into a truck and away safely.

Bucky shoves the newest body under the nearest stack and beckons you to him. You both move like a two-carriage train, he’s the engine and you’re the caboose following in his wake. He only leaves you to commit murder but you feel lost when he’s gone, cold even. There’s something alluring about the way he uses his body and your mind drifts to other carnal things.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. There’s more of a commotion going on in the warehouse now, not just the sounds of men moving goods and silently searching for two prisoners. There are massive amounts of footfall, boots hitting the concrete at speed; bringing in reinforcements from outside.

Bucky is about to whisper in your ear when the squeal of a megaphone pierces the air; he stills with his lips almost touching your skin before pulling back with a frown.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Bucky knows that voice, he’d heard it for years, worked with it, even obeyed it on occasion. “Save the girl. Turn yourself in.”

You shake your head, panicked, urgent. Don’t leave me, your eyes are saying.

A noise nearby draws Bucky’s attention and he suddenly forces you to the ground under a stack where he slots himself immediately after; the security team are searching for you, stealthily stalking the rows. It’s cramped and dusty, the bottom shelf above you so close you can barely breathe without your back brushing the metal supports. How Bucky fits is beyond you, the man is a beefcake, all bulk and magnificently defined muscle. Thinking of him naked is the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to claustrophobia. Something brushes your hand and you jolt, eyes snapping to meet his. He grasps your hand properly and gives it a reassuring squeeze. In your chest, something gives. Maybe your permafrost heart is thawing, maybe you’re about to have a stroke, maybe you really like him.

When the coast is clear, Bucky pulls you free and you emerge into a different row, one with fewer boxes, one you’ll likely be spotted in. You can just see the massive doorway of the warehouse, double sliding doors like a hangar, several half loaded trucks and maybe forty men with body armour and guns. One guy in the middle is wearing a full-face helmet with a white skull etched across the features.

“Holy shit! Is that Punisher?” You hiss before Bucky can clamp his hand over your mouth, the warning look on his face is stern as he leans in to you.

“Crossbones.” He corrects you, barely audible despite the proximity. You still don’t know who that is but he’s totally not as cool as the Punisher, so it doesn’t matter.

His hand is still over your mouth but there’s no point in struggling, you couldn’t break free of him even if you tried, so you push your tongue out and squirm it against his palm, making him recoil in disgust. Your chuckle is silent and his frown turns to the ghost of a wry smile before his attention is fully back on the man he calls Crossbones.

Bucky is taciturn at the best of times but he’s in full diagnostic mode now, assessing the situation. His eyes flicker around the warehouse from yet another new position. It seems like he’s trying to get you closer to the trucks but you suspect that’s what Crossbones expects. There are more men closer to the trucks too and Bucky has already had to kill another two in the latest relocation. The missing men haven’t gone unnoticed and Crossbones is issuing orders, plugging the gaps so you can’t escape.

“I will find you Barnes.” Crossbone’s voice sounds wet through the megaphone, like he’s salivating with excitement at the prospect of getting his hands on you both again. “If you turn yourself in, maybe I’ll let the girl live.”

Bucky’s eyes are downcast, like he’s actually considering it, but the moment passes and Bucky’s resolve hardens. He drags you away towards the end of the row.

“The end of this row has a direct line of sight to the exit. I need a distraction. Can you do that for me?” He whispers.

You nod, lips set in determination. “One disco ball distraction coming right up.”

“On my mark.”

The fluorescent strip lights overhead create more than enough light for you to use. With your right hand flat against Bucky’s left shoulder blade and your left manipulating the air to create a huge show of dancing lights, you move in tandem. Bucky steps out of hiding, keeping you just behind him with his metal arm, he surges forward squeezing off four shots. The way his arm snaps to aim so quickly is astounding, like he has a targeting chip implanted in his brain. Who knows, maybe he does. Four men fall and remain still. Another three shots, then another two and he’s pulling you into another row at a crouching run to the opposite end as he discards the empty gun and pulls out another. He’s saving the assault rifle for Crossbones.

“Again.” He instructs gruffly. “Can you get their eyes?”

“It’s not an exact science this, you know?” You huff and he seems to know that you’re saying you’ll try your best. Of course you’d try, but you don’t know much about your power, even after the few months you’d been training with the team. If it meant you both got out of this alive, you’d flash your tits at the enemy for Christ’s sake.

You emerge again, him with the gun in his metal hand this time, stepping out with you at his back. This time they are ready for you and they start firing before Bucky gets off his first shots. He makes a dash for a fork-lift with a huge pallet of crates sat at floor level. He shoots his rounds in threes until the 9-round magazine is done. The gun is discarded as you both slide behind the cover of the pallets. Machine guns rattle, pummelling the crates with round after round. Bucky prays the crates don’t contain munitions.

“I make fourteen down. Twenty-two left.” His breathing smooth where your is ragged. You curse yourself for being so unfit that even a tiny bit of stress and exertion leaves you heaving air like a couch potato made to climb stairs. “Crossbones is a problem.”

“What do we do now?”

Bucky has two handguns, four knives and an assault rifle, you have one gun and your rainbows. This isn’t going to go well, you think.

“You’re going to hide over there and watch the rear.” He points to your left.

You smirk. Now isn’t’ the time for joking.

“I’m going to thin the crowd some more and, if I can, take Crossbones out.” He looks determined but ridiculous in his underpants, dusted with dirt and debris from the floor that’s stuck to the slightest bit of moisture on his skin. “This might not work. Run to the left, hide in the stacks again, stay down and don’t expose yourself.”

You nod and he readies himself to break cover. The shooting has stopped now and it sounds like the guards are changing positions again. His muscles clench, coiling ready to spring.

“Wait!” You stop him with a hand on his arm, the metal is unnervingly cool. Tension builds. “I wanna fuck you until you pass out.”

“Ummmm.” Bucky blinks, eyebrows raised in surprise but he’s smiling. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah, well, no, but, uhhhh.” You splutter, this hadn’t gone well at all. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you, you know, what Captain Dick Down said to his girl. You asked, for future reference, and all.”

“Oh. Right.” He frowns, turning away again. “Move when I do.” He orders stiffly, preparing to move.

Well, shit!

“Bucky, wait.” Your voice is softer this time, tears prickling your eyes. There’s a chance that neither of you will make it through this and it’s suddenly hit you that there’s something missing.

“What now?” He grumbles, turning to find you closer than he expected.

You surge forward, cupping his jaw in your hands as you capture his lips in a kiss that’s both urgent and needy. You don’t care if he doesn’t respond, you need to feel this before it’s too late. All this tension between you, the jibes and snarky banter, it’s unresolved and sexual in nature. You want him, and if this is all you can have then so be it. One stolen moment before it all slips through your fingers, and you both go to your graves.

You’re already pulling back when he snaps back to attention, quickly pulling you back for another kiss. His tongue delicately touches between the seal of your lips and you sigh with longing.

“You ready?” You pull away but he’s still clearing his head, trying to focus again.

On your feet you’re running out, pumping your legs as fast as you can, heading to the wrong place. Machine guns stutter to life and Bucky is on your heels a second later, fear contorting his features as he scoops you up in his metal arm and returns fire almost blindly. He’s shielding your body with his own and yips like a wounded pup when the bullets find him.

On your knees beneath the curved shield of his back you see the enemy are far closer than you thought. Everything in you yelled stop and you felt the pressure rise through your body and out, cascading off you like a roiling storm.

The bullets stop but the guns are still firing, muffled by the thickness of the air. Despite the pain in his lower back and hip, he turns to see what’s happening. Bullets sluggishly pushing through the air like flies in syrup, all but stopped and slightly redirected on a path that will take them away from a central focal point that is you. You’re doing this, shielding you both as if by some miracle, your power not only refracting the light causing rainbows but acting like a forcefield.

“As much as I have to break up this little party, I really can’t have you killing my friends.” The voice of Tony Stark is heard a second before the Iron Man himself and several of his Iron Legion appear and shoot each and every remaining guard with a taser disc, stunning them into unconsciousness.

Crossbones is a different matter and is somehow resistant to the zapping he just got. He levels a grenade launcher at the stacks near where you and Bucky are crouched and fires. No air shield will save you from all of that falling metal, but Bucky is still fast despite his wounds. There’s blood running down his leg in rivulets as he pulls you to safety, and shields you instinctively with his body once more while the sound of explosions and grinding metal fill the air.

“I did not know I could do that.” You praise yourself.

“I still got shot.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” You snort. “Walk it off.”

“You’re a real ray of sunshine, you know that?”

“I must be something special if you took one in the ass for me.” You wink. “I hope it heals puckered, then you’ll have two rusty bullet holes.”

“STARK!” He shouts but pulls you closer to him. “Evac for one. She’s walking hom-owwww!” You pinch the skin on the inside of his thigh viciously enough that he shoves you out of his embrace.

You both stay close on the Quinjet home. Bucky had been confused as to how Stark had known to mount a rescue mission but when you produced Captain Dick Down’s phone from your uni-boob bra it all became apparent. All of the comms in the facility had been locked down but that was a personal device, one that probably wasn’t allowed to be carried. Good old Captain Dick Down.

The facility had been put to a far worse use than drugs and weapons trafficking. iGoddess was a front for human trafficking and also human experimentation. The restraint chair they had strapped Bucky into had been used to restrain test subjects; Alexander Pearce was trying to replicate the super serum that made Steve and Bucky what they were.

“So, this was a win for us.” Steve said in the debrief. “Our intel was lacking but it worked out in the end.”

“Says you who didn’t get shot in the ass cheek.” Bucky grumbled, shifting cautiously on the Mr Glitters cushion you’d given him as a joke.

“I got to see some wonderful scenery,” you grin brilliantly, “so I’m not complaining.”

There had been no further discussion about the kiss you and Bucky had shared when you thought you might die in that place, but that’s ok. Your daily thrills are made up of making him squirm, and since you two had become closer since your ordeal, you have had several of moments like those. There’s plenty of time and you’re prepared to play the long game, starting with your newest idea. You pull out your phone and casually write a text while Steve is rambling on about seized research and assets.

[I’m so turned on right now].

Bonus add-on for this work: Captain Dick Down - External link to AO3

Because apparently 7k words wasn’t enough and I just had to try my hand at a little text chat/social media piece. It’s more of an embellishment. Enjoy

And if you liked this story, why not try Good Ole Stuffing, a smutty follow on for the same reader/character.

#cmmsecretsanta #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #reader insert #reader with powers #marvel fanfic #powers au #my writing #cloudy's writing

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chancellormatt · 5 years

Text

Voltron Rewrite Episode Twelve - The Trials of Leadership

Lotor, pilot of Sincline, wakes up. He groans, and tries to rise, but finds himself strapped down to the bed he is in.

“...you aren’t going anywhere, anytime soon.” A voice says.

Sincline Lotor looks up, to see Allura standing over his bed, looking down with hard eyes. The other Paladins are gathered as well. Lance and Pidge have bandages from where they were wounded fighting.

“...what happened?” Sincline Lotor asks in a hoarse voice.

“You grew mad with power. Or...maybe you were always like that.” She replies coldly. “You got yourself stuck in the quintessence field, and we left you behind.”

“...how long?”

Allura hesitates for a moment. “...more than thirty quintants.”

“Thirty quinants…” Lotor muses. “...I want to see.”

“See…?”

“Do not play games with me.” Lotor says in a voice that is half cough, half growl. “I am not fool enough to believe that a man can spent that long in the quintessence field and suffer no consequences.”

Allura bites her lip. “...fine.”

She leaves the bed for a moment, then comes back with a hand mirror. For the first time since leaving the quintessence field, Lotor sees himself.

His skin, once a fairly light purple, is now much darker shade. Twin marks trail down all the way down either side of his face. His eyes now glow with a violet hue. He is the spitting image of Zarkon.

Lotor closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. “...why did you bring me back?”

“Technically, we didn’t. Zarkon did.”

“Zarkon is dead!” Lotor hisses.

“Yes.” Allura admits. “The Zarkon of our reality is.”

He opens his eyes, and stares. “The...no...no, that couldn’t…of course. Voltron. The Comet. I should have figured this could happen. Tell me everything.”

Allura’s eye twitches with annoyance. Keith, seeing this, jumps in.

“The short of it is that Zarkon, in his own Voltron carved his way into this reality. He’s taken over much of remains of the Galra Empire. And...he is using the Alteans from the colonies as weapons.”

Lotor does not comment on this. Instead, he asks: “What will you do with me?”

“We haven’t decided yet.” Keith says.

“Typical. You Paladins always did have difficulty doing what needed to be done.”

“Is that what you call it!?” Allura nearly takes a step towards him, but Keith holds her back.

“Enough. If you have nothing of value to offer Lotor, then we’ll just lock you up and figure out what to do with you when all this is over.”

“That would be a mistake. You should free me.”

“And why would we do that?” Keith asks, narrowing his eyes.

“You don’t trust me. Understandable. But if you do not trust my word, you can at least know one thing for sure: No one, not in all the cosmos, wants Zarkon dead more than I. And unlike all of you, I’ve actually succeeded in the task of killing him once before.”

Keith looks away, uncertainty on his face.

“...fine. Go on then. Leave me locked up. When you’re ready to get your hands dirty, you know where to find me.”

The Paladins share a series of awkward glances. All except Allura, who continues to stare at Lotor with scorn.

***

“Well he sure hasn’t changed.” Keith says, walking outside the room.

“Yeah,” Lance pipes up. “He’s still totally a jerk. By the way anyone else find it weird that we just fought another version of him from-”

“He’s worse than just a jerk.” Allura huffs. “He’s a monster. I can’t believe the alteans of the Colony worship him.”

“It's all they know.” Keith points out.

“I know.” She sighs. “That’s the problem.”

With that Allura walks away. Keith makes as if follow her, but hesitates. He shakes his head, then turns to the others. “We should try to figure out our next plan of attack. For that we’re going to need information. Pidge, did you managed to get anything off the data you snatched?”

“Most of the juicy stuff seems to be heavily encrypted, so unfortunately I don’t have much.” Pidge explains. “I’m going to get to work on a decryption, but that might take a while.”

“Alright, let me know when you have something. Everyone else...I guess just take some time to relax or whatever else you wanna do, just stay alert. I want us to be able to move on a moment’s notice.”

“Roger that.” Hunk says saluting.

“Yeah, yeah.” Lance waves a dismissive hand.

Keith nods to them. “If anyone needs me, I’m going to be talking to the warlords in their camp outside. I guess there’s been some kind of trouble lately, and I’m kind of afraid to find out what it is.” Keith almost seems to shiver.

The other three Paladins wave to Keith as he departs.

“Welp,” Hunk says, “I promised my family I’d eat with them when I got back, so I’ll see you guys layer.”

And with that he departs. Leaving only Lance and Pidge. Silence swallows the hallway, as the two struggle to look everywhere but at each other. Lance clears his throat awkwardly. Pidge shifts with discomfort.

“-I” They both start to say.

The two share a grimace. Lance motions for Pidge to go on.

“I...should really get to work on that decryption.” She manages to get out.

“Oh...uh, yeah you should go do that then. I’m uh...gonna go see if Keith needs help with the...thing.”

“G-good.” Pidge stammers “...have fun.”

“I...will.” Lance nods far too formally.

They turn and walk in opposite directions, as fast as humanly possible.

“Hey Keith, wait up!” Lance yells.

Keith stops and turns, bearing a curious expression.

“Need help with that stuff with the galra?”

“Uh-”

“Of course you do!” Lance says, throwing an arm over the other boy’s shoulder. “Let’s get to it.”

“Ri...right.” Keith says, looking thoroughly confused.

***

The Twins of the altean Colony are ushered inside a Garrison cell, by a pair of guards. The door hisses shut behind them. The Twins take stock of the room, and quickly notice the cell’s other inhabitants.

“Vatta!” Dramor exclaims.

The girl stands bolt upright, and the two dash into an embrace.

“...I thought you were dead.” Dramor eventually says.

“I thought I’d never see you again.” She says into his chest.

Dramor pulls back, and looks down at her with concern. “...what have they done to you?”

Vatta hesitates. “...nothing, actually.”

Lagmor steps forward, confusion on his face. “They haven’t harmed any of you?”

“Yet.” says Gratva in a gruff voice. The older altean sits in one corner of the room with a sour expression. “Give ‘em time. They’ll be torturing the information out of us before long. Probably were just waiting to get there hands on more of us.”

“Yes...you probably are right…” Lagmor says, thoughtfully.

Dramor’s eyes grow hard, and he looks down at Vatta whom he still holds. “I won’t let them.”

“And how you gonna stop ‘em?” Gratva asks.

“I...don’t know.” Dramor admits after a moment.

“Escape?” Lagmor says in a low voice.

Gratva scoffs. “They haven’t let us out since they put us in here. Face it kiddos, we’re at their mercy. At least until Lotor comes to rescue us.”

“Yes…” Dramor says, troubled. Vatta squeezes his hand comfortingly. It softens the hardness of the boy’s expression, but does not dispel it entirely.

The alteans grow silence, with each of them dwelling on the words spoken.

***

Pidge sits down at a computer. She pulls out the small drive out of her pocket. She reached to insert it, but cringes from the pain in her shoulder. She switches the drive to her other hand and inserts it into the computer. She types into the command prompt, “run decryption.”

Decryption running… The computer reads out.

A loading bar along with a time estimation appears.

This task should be completed in: 48 hours.

Pidge lets out a long sigh. She shifts in her seat. Then gets up and paces. After a minute of this, she leans over to look at the screen. The load time had not changed.

Pidge lets out a huff. She grabs a stick note off a nearby table and writes: “Do not touch!!” on it. Then she sticks the note on the computer, before walking back out of the room.

Pidge walks through the hallways, alone, looking bored. She nearly walks into Allura when she turns a corner.

“Oh, Pidge.” Allura says, a little startled.

“Allura.” Pidge nods. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I was just…” Allura gets a distant look. “...gathering my thoughts. I think I might go try to talk to alteans again. It seems a futile gesture, but leaving them alone seems worse.” She shakes her head, as if clearing away a mental fog. “Sorry, I’m sure you have duties to attend to without me holding you up.”

“Not really.” Pidge shrugs. “The decryption of those files I stole is gonna take another two days. I’m not supposed to exert myself too hard because of my shoulder, so it's not like I can train or anything. For once, I’m not really sure what to do with myself.”

“I see…” Allura studies the other girl for a moment. She opens her mouth to say something, then hesitates.

“Come on, out with it.” Pidge urges.

“...very well. I was wondering if you would like to join me. In talking to the alteans, I mean.”

Pidge looks at her dubiously. “Why would you want me there for that? It's not like I know anything about altean culture.”

“No, and maybe that’s a good thing. I think...I could use a fresh look on this situation. You aren’t as close to this, so maybe you’ll look at it more objectively than me. Besides, you are the smartest person I know.”

Pidge scoffs. “I’m smart with computers and tech. People...not so much.”

“My point still stands. You might be able to see this from an angle that I won’t.”

Pidge thinking about it for a moment, then shrugs. “Alright. I did say I wasn’t busy.”

“Let’s get to it, then.” Allura says, standing up a bit straighter.

The two girls walk down the hall, together.

***

Keith and Lance step outside, to be met with the sight of the new Castle of Lions. The construction appears to be nearing its completion, and the Castle now towers over the base below it.

“Woah.” Lance says.

“Yeah. It's really coming together.”

“You can say that again.” Lance stares up, and siles slightly. “Takes you back a bit doesn’t it?”

“...sure does.” Keith smirks and shakes his head. “Come on.”

He leads Lance to the base of the Castle, where a camp has been set up. Under one makeshift pavillion, Coran stands in front of a holotable, opposite Skriel.

“Ah, hello there Keith.” Coran greets.

“Grant Regent!” Skriel says, bowing.

Lance rolls his eyes.

“How are things coming along, guys?” Keith asks

“Splendidly!” Skriel proclaimers. “I never thought an altean would have much of anything of value to say, but shockingly this one isn’t a complete idiot! This altean modular tech has opened up some interesting possibilities.”

Coran raises an eyebrow and strokes his mustache. “Well I’d never consider a galra to be a reliable source of information, but Skriel here, actually had a decent idea or two. We might even be onto some sort of...collaborative effort.”

“Sounds like you guys are getting along well…” Keith hesitates. “...I’m more concerned by the ones that aren’t getting along so well.”

Skriel shuffles uncomfortably. Coran massages his mustache, with a troubled expression.

Lance only looks confused. “Wait, what’s going on? Who’s not getting along?”

“There have been some, totally and completely minor...disagreements between the men.” Coran says.

“You see, they don’t seem to like us warlords and our men. Especially those Blades of whatchamacallit. They’re far too uptight if you ask me. So we were all trying to kill each other up until a dozen quintents ago? Get over it already.”

Keith sighes. “Where’s Kolivan? Or my mom?”

“Both out on mission, I’m afraid.” Coran shrugs. “Always work to do.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Keith shakes his head. “I’m not sure what to do about this.”

“Why not just talk to them?” Lance asks. “I bet they’ll stop if you order them to cut that crap out.”

“I’m not their leader, Lance. The warlords might follow me, and I am one of the Blades. But I’m not their leader, Kolivan. He respects me as head of Voltron, but that's not the same as being in command of the whole Blade of Marmora.”

“Whatever you say.” Lance sighs.

“Besides…” Keith turns to face Skriel. “...somehow I don’t think these ‘disagreements’ are entirely one sided.”

Skriel looks offended. “Are you implying that my men would ever be anything lower than absolutely profession when interacting with-”

“Yes.”

“Okay you’ve got me. The conflicts are coming from both sides. But Grand Regent, I really think you are more worried about this, than is necessary. Both our men, and the Blades are galra. We fight, it's what we do.”

“Not with allies. The next time this happens, let me know.”

“Very well, Grand Regent.” Skriel bows again.”Your wish is our command.”

Another eye-roll from Lance. Keith nods to Skriel and Coran, then walks outside. Lance follows him.

“Must be nice having people bowing and calling you ‘Grand Regent,’ huh?” Lance says after a moment.

“Not really.” Keith sighs. “But I guess someone’s gotta do it.”

Lance looks at him sidelong. “Still, if you’re gonna be in charged, you might as well have fun with it.”

Keith opens his mouth to reply, but never gets a chance.

“Keith!” Ryner yells, running over to meet them.

“What’s up?” Keith asks.

“We’re having a bit of a resource crisis. You see with the construction of the Castle, we’re running low on jump-projectors for repairs on the rest of the ships.”

“We’ll...go take a look. Might not be able to fix everything right now, but we can at least prioritize.”

“Alright. This way.”

Ryner starts to move, with Keith and Lance in tow.

“Still think I got much time for fun on the job?”

Lance only snorts.

***

Allura and Pidge step inside the cell. All of the alteans stand bolt upright. Their stances are still, their eyes distructful.

“Hello.” Allura greets awkwardly.

The only reply is a snort from Gratva. Pidge narrows her eyes at him.

“I am Princess Allura, for those of you that don’t know me.” She nods to the Twins. “And this is my friend, Pidge.”

“Hey.” Pidge says.

The alteans do not reply.

“Are you all...well?” Allura says, floundering.

“...are we well?” Gratva laughs. “That’s rich coming from the woman holding us captive. As if you care.”

“I do, believe it or not.” She replies, stiffly.

“Do you honestly expect us to believe that?” Lagmor speaks up. “We know of the the evils you have commited. We have heard plenty from Lotor.”

“Then tell me just what sort of horrors we are guilty of? We stood up when no one else would. We fought against the galra empire, and freed countless of worlds. And we brought dozens of different peoples together, so that when all of this is over, we can unite under the banner of peace.”

“How about when you abandoned the altean people?” Lagmor askes.

Allura hesitates. “I did not-”

“Yes,” Dramor sneers, “where were you when altea was destroyed? Did you stay and fight then? Or did you leave us all for ten thousand years, until it was convenient for you?”

“I did not-”

“Face it, Princess!” Gratva cuts her off. “You will never steal our loyalty for Lotor!”

Allura eyes fill with pain, and she looks down.

Gratva smiles. “We will never turn our backs on Lotor! Everything we have is because of him! He is our savior! Our-”

“Where is he right now?” Pidge says suddenly.

Gratva opens his mouth to reply, but Pidge beats hi to it.

“Because the way I see it, he sent all of your on missions doomed to fail, then never bothered to try and rescue you. Did you even know that the other pilots had survived before getting here?”

Dramor glances at Vatta, who stares back at him.

“Lotor...he has the entire universe to save! He cannot concern himself with-”

“Is that what you call it?” Pidge cuts in yet again. “When did saving start with all of you attacking us, unprovoked? When did we ever attack you? Or did you just trust him, when he said we’re ‘the bad guys?’ Did you ever once, question what this was all about? What you were really doing!?”

“Pidge…” Allura starts to say.

Pidge ignores her, looking across the group with a sneer. “Tell me are you all so stupid that you just buy into the first flimsy story you hear? Or are you just so scared of what’s actually staring you right in the face!? Instead you throw insults at the one person in the universe that gives half a damn about any of you lot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more miserable group of-”

“Pidge!” Allura shouts. “That’s enough!”

Pidge scoffs and turns. “You asked for my opinion? You’re wasting your time on these guys. Let’s them wallow in their delusions.” And before Allura can reply, Pidge whirls around and stalks out of the room.

The alteans can only stare, silenced by Pidge’s tirade. Allura is equally speechless. She looks at the door the girl left through, back to the alteans, then cycles between the two several times.

“If...you’ll excuse me.” Allura gives a short nod then exits the room.

Pidge is still marching down the hall, huffing.

“Pidge wait!” Allura calls after her. “What was all that?”

She stops and turns. “Did you want me to sit there and let them trash you like that?”

“Well...there’s a certain level of tact you have to use when-”

“Oh yeah, they really were responding well to tact.”

Allura cringes. Pidge sighes.

“I know...they’re like your long lost people, or whatever. And I’m sure that you must want to try and gain their trust. But you can only do so much. They’ve been brainwashed for so long, I dunno if they’d even know what to do without their ‘almighty’ Lotor. It's not your fault if they don’t realize that you care about the more than he ever did.” Pidge takes a breath. “So don’t just sit there and take it. You’re better than that. Better than them.”

Allura stares at her for several moments. Pidge shifts uncomfortably, and looks like she might turn to go.

“...I don’t like the way you said it.” Allura says with a sigh. “But I think there may be truth in your words. I can’t make the believe anything. And after so long with Lotor, maybe there isn’t much hope for them. But still...I’m not ready to give up on them. Not just yet.”

“What are you gonna do them?”

“I...don’t know.” Allura admits. “I’ve made all the arguments I can. And as you said, I can’t make them believe anything.”

Pidge hesitates. “...maybe if they don’t respond to words, there’s another way you can convince them?”

Both girls appear to be thinking. As one their eyes widen with inspiration.

***

“That took longer than I would have liked.” Keith says tiredly, walking through the camp outside the Garrison base.

Lance lets out a long sigh and rubs his eyes. “I don’t ever want to look at another ship manifest again.”

“You’re the one that volunteered.”

“Yeah and what was I gonna leave once it looked like trouble? I’ve still got my pride as a man.” Despite this, Lance plops himself down onto a nearby metal crate.

Keith remains standing. “At least we’re finally...done…” His voice gets distant, as he notices some kind of commotion across the camp.

“Come on.” Keith suddenly says, taking off at a run.

Lance groans, then rises to follow after Keith. They dash through the camp, passing by countless Coalition soldiers and workers at various tasks. It's not long before they reach the source of the commotion.

A group of ten or so galra fighting each other, encircled by a crowd of watching Coalition personnel. Half of the galra are warlord soldiers, while the other half are Blades of Marmora. Just outside the ring of fighting, galra warlords Ublok and Erva stand watching with what looks like approval.

Keith shoves his way through to the warlords.

“Why haven’t you stopped this!?” Keith demands.

“It is the galra way.” Ublok shrugs.

“It's just some friendly scuffling. They are letting out their anger. You should let them continue.” Evra adds.

“Oh yeah this really looks like a friendly scuffle.” Keith shoots back.

As if on cue, one of the Blades draws a knife. Keith curses, and dashes into the fray, grabbing the man by the hand.

“Stop!” Keith orders.

The fighting continues.

“I SAID STOP!” Keith bellows.

All freeze, looking up to stare at Keith. There is fire in his eyes. “...what are you all doing?”

The group is silent for a moment.

“They started it!” One of the warlord soldiers yells.

“That’s a lie!” A blade replies.

“I don’t care who started it!” Keith cuts in. “You’re allies! Why are you fighting?”

“Allies!?” One of the blades protests. “We fought in this war for centuries! We fought long before anyone else dared, and we risked everything to do it! Then these one’s spend the whole time serving zarkon, then Lotor, and switch sides at the last possible moment!?”

“At least we don’t cower in the dark like you lot!” A warlord soldier retorts.

In spite of Keith’s objections, they look as though they are about to return to fighting. The blast of an energy rifle stops them.

Lance stands with his rifle aimed towards the heavens. He nods to Keith. Keith nods back.

“...it doesn’t matter when you decided to fight back.”

One of the blades starts to object.

“It doesn’t matter.” Keith repeats. “Because in the end, they did.” he nods to the warlord group. “Even after Zarkon returned, with his own Voltron, they chose to side with us. That matters. Is this really how you act when Kolivan is gone? Is this how you honor your leader?”

The Blades look down without answering. Keith turns to the warlord group. “And you!”

The men nearly jump. Ublok and Erva look uncomfortable as well.

“This kind of fighting amongst allies is exactly what was supposed to end when you declared for me. No more groups, no more fighting each other for power. Galra as one people. Even those serving Zarkon now will have their chance after they’ve paid their penance for siding with him. We gain nothing if we fight each other, and stand to lose everything if we do. Is that clear?”

There is a series of mumbled, “yes Grand Regent.” He narrows his eyes at Ublok and Erva. They scramble to bow and repeat the phrase.

“Good. Now unless I’m mistaken, I’m pretty sure you’ve all got work to do.”

The group disperses immediately, with each going their own way. Keith lets out a long sigh.

***

“Where are you taking us, Princess?” Dramor asks.

“To some sort of interrogation, no doubt.” Lagmor says.

“Or maybe she’ll sick the little green one on us again.” Gratva mutters.

A glare from Pidge makes him avert his gaze.

“I am going to show you something, I think you all should see.” Allura states, not rising to the previous comments.

She walks through the Garrison base, alongside Pidge, with the alteans. The latter are in power-cuffs and flanked by guards. The group comes to a metal door at the end of the corridor.

Allura takes a breath before opening the door, allowing the sunlight to spill inside. She steps out followed by Pidge, then with some hesitation, the alteans.

They are immediately met with the sight of the Castle of Lions. Gratva immediately gasps.

“It...it can’t be…” He stammers.

“What? What is this oddly shaped ship?” Lagmor asks.

Gratva shakes his head. “...when I was but a boy my grandmother showed me a painting she’d made of something she’d seen centuries earlier. It was said to be one of the grandest ships ever built: The Castle of Lions. It looks the same, and yet...what is wrong with it?” He looks at Allura with puzzlement.

“Unfortunately, the original Castle of Lions was destroyed. But it's soul was preserved. It's plans and data were sent here, to earth. We have constructed a new Castle from the original design. The effort has been overseen by Coran, the grandson of the original Castle’s architect.”

As if on cue, Coran picks that moment to walk up along with Romelle.

“It's true.” He says. “Although your friend Romelle here has been instrumental in her help.”

A look passes between Romelle and the other colony alteans. It's a look of cautions uncertainty.

Coran pushes onward. “I still remember my grandpapi giving me the inaugural tour of the newly finished Castle of Lions, over ten thousand years ago back...back on altea.”

Gratva says nothing, as he stares at Coran. His gaze inevitably returns to the nearly-completed Castle ship.”

“...this proves nothing.” Dramor says after a moment.

“I agree.” Lagmor says “So you rebuilt an old ship. Anyone can reconstruct something from plans. Even if you are who you say, you are still our enemy.”

“I didn’t show this to convince you of anything.” Allura says, staring at the Castle herself. “I’m not revealing this to you so that you’ll turn coat, and join the fight on our side. I just thought you should see a piece of your own culture. That...and I hope that you’ll realize that while you may not consider me a friend, I am not, nor will I ever be your enemy.”

The alteans are silent. “...would you like to see the inside?” Allura asks after a moment.

Gratva blinks with surprise. “You’d...let us?”

“The guards would have to remain, but yes.” Allura nods.

“Construction is not finished, but most portions of the ship can be toured.” Coran adds.

Gratva hesitates only for a moment. “I...I would like to see that. Very much.”

One by one the other alteans start to voice their agreement. Dramor and Lagmor remain as holdouts.

Dramor looks about to voice an objection, when Vatta tugs on his arm. He looks down at her and something seems to pass between them. Eventually he sighs.

“I...also would like to see the ship.”

Lagmor lets out a sigh of his own. “I suppose I will as well.”

“Very well.” Allura nods to the group. “Coran will show you the way. I do not think it's a great assumption to say that it would be his honor.”

“You are correct, Princess.” Coran smiles.

“You...will not join us?” Vatta asks.

Allura shakes her head. “I would rather that you all have time to think on my words, and be able to see the ship without distraction. Besides…” She looks up at the Castle again. “...I rather think I’ll wait until it's finished.”

Silence hangs only a moment before Coran breaks it.

“Alright then, you lot, let’s go see the genius of my grandfather at work!”

The alteans follow Coran, though many shook glances back at Allura. They are quickly out of sight, lost in the crowds of Coalition personnel.

“So...it worked.” Pidge says.

“That remains to be seen.” Allura replies uncertainly.

“Oh come on, they were eating out of the palm of your hand.”

The ghost of a smile appears on Allura’s face. “If they were, it only succeeded because you so ruthlessly cut them down first.”

“Well If there's one thing I’m good at besides science, its verbally cutting people down.”

They both laugh.

“...thank you.” Allura says finally. “Really. I was too...attached to the alteans to be firm with them.”

Pidge shrugs. “Just treat me to some hot coco sometime.”

“Hot...coco?” Allura says with confusion.

“Oh we definitely gotta get some hot coco now.”

“Yes, we’ll have to do something like that sometimes…” Allura’s voice drifts off as her gaze catches on Keith and Lance walking further down the camp. “...may I ask you a question of a rather...awkward nature?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you think Keith is doing?”

“Come again?”

Allura sighs. “Keith. He..he was thrust into this position of his. And I think for what it’s worth he’s done well. But I do...worry about him. He seems to take everything on himself. I know what it's like. I’m worried about what might happen if…” She shakes her head suddenly. “...forget it. Probably just idle thoughts.”

Pidge looks at Allura then over to Keith. When Pidge looks back at Allura she notes the look in her eye.

“...you’re really concerned about him huh?” She says.

“...yes, I suppose I am. He’s helped me when I needed it, and I just want to know if there’s something I can do to pay him back. Even if it's something small.”

Pidge nods slowly. “I guess...you just gotta wait for the right chance. And don’t let it go when you see it.”

“I see. Is that what you do?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“And how does it work out?”

“I’ll...let you know.”

***

“Nicely done.” Lance claps Keith on the shoulder.

Keith shugs. “I’m more concerned it happened at all.”

Lance shakes his head. “You never ceases to amaze Keith.”

“How’s that?”

“Because you actually seem to be getting pretty good at this whole ‘leading’ thing, and yet seems to hate it all the same. You’ve never stopped acting like you’re just holding the seat for someone else. Who else is gonna do it Keith?”

Keith opens his mouth.

“I swear if you say Shiro, I’m gonna punch you in the mouth.”

“So you think I should try to...be more comfortable. As a leader.”

“As an everything, man. You’ve always been so uptight. Like, ‘oh look at me, I’m Keith. I’m a tough guy with a dark backstory.’ It gets old after a while.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve summed up my personality in just a couple of sentences.” Keith rolls his eyes.

“You know what I mean. Just like...I dunno loosen up once in a while. Do something fun.”

“Like...” Keith says, his gaze drifting over to where he sees Allura, standing along with Pidge. Both have steaming mugs in their hands. “...what?” Keith blinks as if having forgotten what they were talking about.

Lance notices, following Keith’s line of sight to Allura. He looks back and forth between the two. His eyes widen.

“No way…”

“What?” Keith asks.

“Do you...do you have a thing for Allura!?”

“Wh-what!? N-no!” Keith eyes shoot involuntarily towards Allura.

Lance’s eyes widen more. “You totally do. I know that look, I used to have that look!”

“Shut up dude.” Keith turns away.

“Oh noooo, there’s no way I’m letting this one go.” Lance throws an arm over Keith shoulder. Keith shrugs him off.

“Lay off man. I don’t...even if…” Keith shakes his head. “...we don’t have time for that kind of thing. I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”

Lance sighs and shakes his head. “Keith, Keith, Keith, what are we going to do with you?”

Keith eyes him oddly. “...hypothetically. And I’m definitely not saying I do...but if I did feel something vaguely resembling what you’re talking about...wouldn’t it bother you? I mean you liked Allura for a really long time.”

Lance hesitates before replying. “...if you’d asked me that not too long ago, you’d be right.” He glances back at the two girls. In truth he only looks at one of them. “But I’ve...come to a realisation, I guess.” He chuckles. “Anyway, long story short, no. Allura never was the girl for me. It wouldn’t bother me if you wanted to pursue something with her.”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a while.

“...it's not a good time. And I wouldn’t know what to say.”

“Well when I talked to her it was literally the worst time, and said the worst possible thing. You’ve got a low bar. My humble advice? Just see if she wants to hang out or something. Don’t spring anything crazy on her, and I think you’ll do alright.”

“I’ll think about it.” Keith shrugs. “Or I would if I actually liked her.” He actually manages a smile.

“A smile? From Keith? There we go people, my wok here is done!”

“Yeah I’m sure you got other girls’ hearts to break, right?”

Lance hesitates. “...sure.”

Keith looks confused by the comment but doesn’t push the matter.

“Anyway,” lance continues. “I’m gonna take off now. Think about what I said. Live a little.”

“I...think about it.”

Lance chuckles, and walks away. Keith turns back to the two girls. Pidge appears to be saying her goodbyes and walks back into the base. Allura stands alone, looking up at the Castle of Lions. Letting out a long sigh, Keith walks over.

“Hey.” He says after moment.

“Hello.” She smiles.

“Did you uh...make any progress with the alteans today?”

“I think...I think I did.” Allura nods. “And how have things gone on your end?”

“Tiring. But nothing too out of the ordinary.” Keith shugs.

“I see.”

Both are silent for a time, as they stare up at the Castle ship. The sun is getting lower in the sky, and starting to turn it to a light orange color. Keith’s eyes occasionally flicker over to Allura. He takes a breath.

“Are you...hungry?”

Allura looks over with suprise. “Hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“I...suppose I am.” She says, as if having just noticed.

“There’s this...place a few miles off base. Nice restaurant. Shiro took me there when I broke the academy flight speed record. You uh...wanna go?”

“Yes.” Allura says immediately.

“You sure?” Keith says with surprise.

She nods.

“Al...alright then. Let’s go.”

“Let’s.”

***

Inside a dark base, rimmed with violet lights, a group of druids are talking amongst themselves.

“We should side with Zarkon. Haggar was our leader, and she stands beside him.” One says.

“That is not the same Haggar.” Another says. “She has been replaced, I’m certain of it.”

“All the more reason we should stay out of it.” A third one chimes in.

“Gentlemen.” A new voice says. “Allow me to save you the trouble of this discussion.”

The whole group looks up, to find Prince Lotor of Darktron, standing on a platform above. The scar on his face is still fresh, and the eye it crosses is still shut.to his side, is the ever stoic Raimon.

The druids stare for a moment.

“Kill him!” One shouts.

And with that, all summon bolts of violet lighting and hurl them at Lotor. He only smiles.

Raimon steps forward, and throws out both hands. The bolts crackle against his hand for a moment. Then, they are overwhelmed by Raimon’s own blue lightning that turns back on the druids. The blue bolts strike each of the druids, sending them sprawling.

“...thank you Raimon.” Lotor says, leaping down to the druid’s level. He grabs one and pulls him up by the collar it's hood.

Prince Lotor grins, an expression that is quite menacing with the new scar. “Almost two years ago you and Haggar created a weapon that you used against Voltron, to devastating effect. I’m going to need it…”

Author Update: Wow, it's been a while! Sorry about that, I’ve been super busy working on another project. What you might ask? My first original novel! Yep, those of you who are long time followers on my Wattpad might remember a little story called “If I Were Strong,” well it's two drafts later, and there are many changes (including the name). I’ll have some updates for anyone who’s interested. Anyway, thanks for being patient. I know it's been a while now since the end of voltron so I’m going to try (keyword TRY) to start wrapping up this fic. We’ll see how long that actually takes, and how many episodes it's gonna be(might be a little crazy now that we have TWO Lotors to deal with). Till then, thanks for reading this far, hope you all enjoy the end. See ya.

#voltron #kallura #keith #allura #plance #lotor #prince lotor #fix it fic #season 8 #voltron season 8

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