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stark---contrast · 1 year

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Simple Biology

For @bulkyphrase who won my stevetony fic auction in this year's @marveltrumpshate ❤️ Summary: Tony gets hit by sex pollen and Steve helps him out. Rating: Explicit | Smut, dubcon Word count: 9.8k [ao3 link]

“You ready?” Steve asked.

“Come on, Cap. When am I not ready to blast some bad guys?”

Steve heard a repulsor whirring to life somewhere over his shoulder. Trusting Tony to cover his back, Steve tightened his grip on the shield, took a deep breath, and kicked the door in.

Steve advanced into the room while shielding himself and Tony, the Iron Man suit bathing everything in familiar blue light, and—

Nothing. The room was nearly empty—abandoned. What little furniture remained made it clear that this used to be some kind of greenhouse and not the top secret weapons development facility SHIELD had told them it was.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Tony said, repulsors powering down. “J, scan for weapons, computers, secret panels—any tech that's not where it's supposed to be. Hell, throw in another thermal scan of the building, in case we missed some Hydra goons creeping around.”

“As you wish, Sir.”

“Tony, I… I don’t think there’s anything here,” Steve said. “Looks like bad intel.”

He took another glance around the room. There were plants lined up on desks along one of the walls, though most of them were wilted. A few office chairs and desks were scattered around, with broken computer screens and lab equipment laying on the floor. The most advanced technology remaining in the room seemed to be the high-powered lamps hanging above the plant section.

“Fuck,” Tony said, popping the faceplate of the armor, “This isn’t an evil Hydra lair. It’s a goddamn weed farm.”

“Tony,” Steve chastised.

“I mean it's clearly not cannabis—oh come on, don't give me that look, you went to art school,'' Tony said, and Steve didn't protest. “But, damn. All this trouble just for a couple fugly office plants?”

They probably should have been happy that there was nothing nefarious going on. But even Steve was feeling a little bummed: he'd been prepared for battle, and with the anticlimactic revelation it was like all his adrenaline had nowhere to go.

Though it was Tony who had been the most invested in this raid. Even if his name hadn’t come up in the mission brief, it only took the words “weapons development” for him to tense up during Hill's mission brief; and Steve couldn’t blame him. Bad guys worldwide had an uncanny ability of getting their hands on Stark tech and twisting it into something evil.

“Well, this was a waste of time,” Tony said, kicking at a beaker on the floor. “What an utterly stupid, inconsequential way to spend a Wednesday afternoon. Does Fury think I don't have anything better to do? Seriously, Pep's gonna have my head for canceling that seminar again.”

Steve ignored Tony's complaints and turned to leave. “We should report back.”

“I mean, we could take some samples of these,” Tony said, approaching the plants. “Get Bruce a souvenir so he doesn’t Hulk out while we bitch at Fury. You know, make this mission not a complete waste of Avengers time and resources?"

“SHIELD can do the grunt work,” Steve said. He frowned at the sight of Tony leaning over one of the plants; something felt off, but he couldn't pinpoint the cause. “Don't touch anything. Let’s just go.”

“Maybe Hydra's distilling the plants for some kinda super-evil-but-really-just-mildly-inconvenient poison elsewhere?” Tony kept going, not even listening. “Or, Jesus, even worse, what if some hare-brained aspiring scientist was inspired by good ol’ pal Killian's work—”

And that was when Tony, the most intelligent man Steve had met in his life, touched one of the mystery plants like an idiot.

Immediately, one of the flower buds burst open and spewed pollen right in Tony's face.

“Tony!”

Steve leapt across the room, tackling a coughing Tony away from the worst of it. But in the scuffle, they bumped into a table and even more flowers erupted into a thick cloud. Steve couldn't help inhaling the substance but he shoved his hand over Tony's mouth and dragged him away.

“Tony!" Steve called out. "God, Tony, are you okay?”

Steve’s throat felt dry and he blinked pollen from his irritated eyes. Yet it was nothing compared to Tony; he looked like he could barely stay upright much less breathe, even now that they were out of the thick of it and Steve had a hand on Tony's shoulders to steady him.

“I, uh, agh,” Tony coughed, tears in his eyes.

“Hold on,” Steve said. “I’ll get you out of here. Please, just hold on.”

“I think I figured it out,” Tony wheezed. “They were—they weren't using my tech. They were making bioweapons.”

Tony erupted into another coughing fit and Steve’s heart sank into his stomach.

Tony got exposed to a Hydra bioweapon. Now, he was hacking his lungs out—what if he choked, or went blind? Or died? God, why did he have to touch the damn flower!?

Tony coughed violently and then spit out a glob of pollen goo. He followed up with a raspy breath, his face red since the faceplate had offered no protection, because rather than stay safe Tony had lifted it like an idiot.

Focus, Steve chastised himself. He could berate Tony later; for now, he just needed him safe.

“Tony, we have to leave,” Steve said, forcing his voice to be level. “There might still be traces of the poison in the air, and we can’t have you get more exposed.”

“I’m—I’m fine. I think.” Tony rubbed his eyes, then blinked them open. “J, scan my vitals, would you?”

“Your pulse is elevated and there is breathlessness and low oxygen from the coughing, but your blood is clear of toxins, Sir.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they were wrong; maybe these were just regular flowers, and the worst Tony was left with was a runny nose.

“Sir, I don't wish to alarm you," JARVIS added. "But your body temperature appears to be rising at an abnormal rate."

“Shit,” Tony said. “Now that you mention it, it’s getting a little stuffy in this armor.”

“Stuffy?” Steve said. “Tony, what’s going on?”

“I feel…” Tony grimaced and reached a gauntleted hand over his shoulder. “Antsy. Itchy. This isn't—wow, this really isn’t good. Reminds me of spring break in '86, when me and Rhodey had a really bad acid trip. Have I told you about that? What am I saying, of course I haven't—"

“Your heart rate is continuing to increase," JARVIS interrupted. "I fear an allergic reaction to the unidentified substance is taking place."

“Fuck," Tony commented. "Get me outta this armor.”

“What?" Steve balked. "Come on, we've gotta go—”

Steve choked on the rest of his sentence when the armor hissed open and Tony stepped out. He was wearing nothing but his form-fitting black undersuit: the one that left nothing to the imagination, though Steve had spent an embarrassing amount of time picturing just what lay underneath.

Steve shook his head. Focus, soldier.

“JARVIS, send the—” Steve started.

“God, it's hot in here,” Tony said. “It’s not just me, right? It's like a sauna in here.”

And that was the point that Tony apparently decided to start stripping: unzipping the second skin of the underarmor like from one of Steve’s numerous fantasies and shrugging off the top half, exposing broad shoulders and tanned skin.

“Captain Rogers?” JARVIS prompted.

“Right. Send the Avengers alarm,” Steve said.

“Very good.”

“Jesus, fuck, I’m sweating bullets here,” Tony said, and he was panting now, his chest naked and sweaty, and Steve—

Steve stared.

It was still weird to see Tony without the arc reactor. Steve knew it meant he was healthy, which was amazing, but there was something beautiful about the reactor: like a physical reminder of Tony's genius.

Not that Tony wasn't beautiful like this, too. The mess of scars and sparse hair on his chest took nothing away from how utterly sinful he looked: skin flushed and chest heaving, with dark nipples, firm muscle, and a slight softness around his waist.

"That's…that's better, gotta love that nice, cool, secret-Hydra-lair air," Tony babbled, his eyes hazy, like he was no longer even registering that Steve was there. "But—but, fuck, it's still so hot, everything, everything's burning and I—I just…"

Tony groaned, and his hips moved, making an aborted thrust into the air. Steve's gaze followed the movement, and, wow, the undersuit really left nothing to the imagination.

Tony was hard, straining against the tight fabric of his pants. Steve’s neck flushed hot and he quickly averted his eyes: Tony was in pain, and his body was just confused. This was no time for Steve to act on his repressed feelings.

Unfortunately, Tony just then seemed to notice his arousal, and immediately dropped a hand down over his pants.

“Oh, god,” Tony moaned. "That feels, that's so good, holy shit."

Tony closed his eyes and started palming himself shamelessly through the thin fabric. And Steve just watched, horrified and aroused, as his friend massaged his dick in front of Steve in the middle of a mission and holy hell, how was this real?

Just then, something clicked into place in Steve’s brain and he suddenly knew exactly what was happening.

“Tony—Tony, listen to me. I think you were drugged,” Steve said, managing to keep the rising panic out of his voice. “We need to get you out of here. JARVIS?”

“I have contacted the Avengers. Miss Romanoff gives an ETA of thirty-three minutes and requests that you stay in your position.”

“No, that’s not… we need to get him out! Come on, Tony!”

Rather than listen to Steve, Tony just kept masturbating, which decidedly was not helping.

“Tony, you have to listen to me!” Steve grabbed Tony by his shoulders.

The moment Steve's hands made contact with Tony's flushed skin, the reaction was instantaneous.

Tony jerked and looked at Steve like a man starved. And Steve had seen a lot of articles and interviews of Tony posing with a smirk and seductive eyes, but the infamous Tony Stark take me to bed look had never been directed at him before.

Yet right now, Tony's pupils were blown wide and his eyes were half-lidded, ogling Steve like he wanted to eat him.

"Steve," Tony breathed, like his name was a revelation. "Oh, god, Steve."

And, Jesus, Steve was strong, stronger than almost anyone else, but for Tony he'd always been weak. He could feel his resolve crumbling by the second under that heated gaze.

But...Tony was compromised. Tony didn't truly want this; he'd never looked at Steve like this when he was in his right mind, and he was only moaning Steve's name because of the drug.

"I, I don’t know what’s happening." Tony swallowed. "But I need to come—god, you don’t understand how much I need to. Please, please make me come, Steve, you have to, I—I can't."

Tony sounded pained and he clutched at Steve’s arm like a lifeline.

Steve's hands were trembling as he tried to hold himself back. Desire thrummed through his body. It had been so long since Steve had felt like this that he briefly wondered if he'd been affected by the pollen too.

But he knew that wasn't true. He felt aroused, yes, and high-strung from worry, but he was still in full control of his body. The serum made him immune to almost anything, probably having burned through the drug in seconds, and everything that Steve felt was simply because of Tony.

Tony made an impatient sound in his throat and squeezed Steve's biceps almost painfully. And that was when Steve made up his mind.

"Okay," Steve said. "Okay, let me take care of you."

He already knew he'd regret this later. But if the alternative was to keep Tony in pain, well, Steve would gladly bear the consequences of his actions.

"Thank you," Tony sighed, sounding genuinely relieved as he let go of the death grip on Steve's arms. "Thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou."

Steve nodded stiffly and discarded his gloves before reaching for the hem of his uniform.

"You have no idea, fuck, my body, it's just—" Tony kept blabbering. "I've never felt like this, like hnnnnnngh."

The guttural sound Tony made once Steve's shirt came off was enough to make him flush all the way down to his now-exposed chest. Though Steve had aimed to get undressed efficiently and clinically, his stripping appeared to be having an inadvertent side effect—much like Tony's had on him.

Steve carelessly flung the shirt to the side and as soon as he did, there were hands grabbing at his shoulders and a very warm, still very shirtless Tony pressing up against his naked torso.

"Oh my god," Tony said. "Oh my fucking god, we're really doing this, I get to—I really get to touch you."

He sounded awed as he looked down between their shirtless chests, where Steve's bigger torso pressed up against Tony's lithe muscle. And then, Tony's hands were sliding down, and—

Tony squeezed Steve's pecs and Steve bit back a shamefully eager moan.

"Fuck," Tony groaned. He pressed his face against Steve’s neck, panting hot and open-mouthed against the skin. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm, I'm so hard, and you're so—so hot, Jesus, how are you so hot?"

Tony was almost sobbing. His dick pressed against Steve's thigh, indeed hard enough that Steve actually worried Tony was going to come like this.

"Hey, Tony, hey, it’s okay," Steve said, trying to keep his tone soothing. "Let me—let's get you out of that suit, yeah? It looks pretty uncomfortable right now."

Tony's breath shuddered against Steve's neck before he managed a jerky nod. Steve carefully slipped his hands inside Tony's undersuit, still bunched up around his waist, and pulled it down.

"Good—that's good. Ease up a little?" Steve said.

Steve gently loosened Tony's grip on him so he could crouch and help Tony step out of his pants. Tony's cock bobbed hard and red in front of Steve's face and he flushed and quickly sat back on his heels to gauge Tony's situation.

Tony was already looking at him, trembling like a leaf. He was also naked, and gorgeous and, god, Steve wanted to do so many unspeakable things to him.

So Steve grabbed Tony by the back of his unsteady legs and leaned back, and then they were falling, until Steve's back hit the cold concrete floor and Tony was straddling him.

"What—what just happened.'' Tony blinked, like he hadn't even registered the movement.

"I, uh." Steve swallowed. "Wanted us to get more comfortable."

I've been fantasizing about you on top of me for the last two years, he strategically left out.

"What…oh,'' Tony said, seeming to notice the sight before him: a half-naked Captain America flushed and pliant under him. "Oh, god, Steve, you look…"

Tony didn't finish the sentence, opting instead to grind down against Steve with a filthy moan. Steve bit back any noise of his own, watching as Tony's cock slid hard and slick over his abs.

"You're so hot," Tony said. "Beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, I—mmh, you're so hot, it's not fair."

Tony was panting now, touching Steve all over: palming his abs and biceps, running callused fingers over Steve’s collarbone. Tony's speech was getting more incoherent by the minute, and Steve should probably be more worried about that, about Tony losing whatever wits he still had about him to the drug.

Instead, Steve's cock throbbed in his pants and his heart fluttered happily from Tony's mindless praise.

"You, uh. You too," Steve shot back lamely.

Rather than react to Steve's lackluster compliment, Tony chose to start massaging Steve’s pecs.

“Oh, wow, that—that's, yeah,” Tony said, gently squeezing the muscle and making Steve flush. “Jesus, you’re built like a god. Fuck, they should make…make statues, dedicated to your chest—America's chest.”

Well, that was… Steve wasn't sure how he felt about that idea, but at least Tony was talking more.

“Th….thanks?"

"Mmm," Tony commented, and then pushed his pecs together.

The simple action made Steve fidget in both embarrassment and arousal. Tony really liked his chest, huh?

“Oh,” Tony made a sound of awe, kneading Steve’s pecs and licking his lips. “Can we—can, can I—”

Tony was already shuffling up, his leaking cock bobbing over Steve's chest and making his intentions known loud and clear.

Oh. Tony really liked Steve's pecs.

"Yeah," Steve heard himself say. "Yes, Tony, god, anything."

He barely got the words out before Tony’s dick slid into the crevice of Steve's pecs, and, oh.

"Shit—fuck, this…" Tony panted. "Christ, Steve, your tits."

Steve swallowed a hot flash of shame and watched Tony set a rhythm thrusting between his pecs. It was filthy, watching the way Tony's cock disappeared between the mounds and then popped up at the top, the head red and leaking.

This was one thing that Steve had never done before, that he never saw the appeal of before now. He’d always thought it’d awkward or at the very least uncomfortable; but Tony was leaking like a faucet, quickly coating the space between his pecs in slick precum and making the slide wet and easy.

“Steve—fuck, Steve,” Tony said, reaching for one of Steve’s hands. “Hold—hold them together, like this, nice and tight, yeah?”

Steve’s ears burned with how red his face must have been. “Like this?”

He grabbed his pecs and squeezed them together around Tony’s cock, just like Tony had done.

And Tony went wild.

“Ah, ahh, oh god,” Tony moaned, sliding his cock between Steve’s pecs with renewed vigor. “Just, just like that, god, that’s a amazing—so, so tight, so good, oh, oh fuck.”

Steve never thought anyone would enjoy this so much. He didn't know he would enjoy this so much, but as he watched Tony’s face go slack with pleasure, felt his slick cock fuck desperately between his pecs, Steve’s neglected erection throbbed in his pants behind Tony’s undulating body.

It was humiliating, in a way, presenting himself for Tony this way and having Tony shamelessly use him for his own pleasure; but it was a good kind of shame, the kind that made Steve shiver and flush all over.

And then Tony, hands now free to do as he pleased, pinched Steve's nipples and Steve was toast.

“Oh, god,” Tony moaned. “Steve, Steve, your tits—your tits are fucking fantastic. I've always wanted to, to do this to you. You're so sensitive—feels good when I do this, doesn't it?”

Steve moaned and twitched under Tony's hands. Yes, his nipples were sensitive, embarrassingly so, and it had always been a point of insecurity. But Tony didn't seem to mind: his entire being radiated lust, and he was rock hard between Steve's pecs, looking down at Steve like Steve was his entire world—

Tony twisted his nipples hard and that was it. Steve came, a startled yell punching out of him as his hips lifted off the floor and he shot untouched into his combat pants.

Through the blinding pleasure, Steve tried his best to keep his pecs pressed together for Tony, to make it good for him. Dazed from his orgasm, he still kept looking at Tony, at his slick cock and wild eyes.

“Holy shit, you, you came? You came just from your tits, oh, sweetheart, you're so good, so sexy, this is so much better than I ever imagined, I—fuck, Steve—”

Tony came with a loud groan, painting Steve’s chest in messy spurts and landing on his neck and his chin. Steve moaned with him through it even as the finality of the situation started to set in.

This was it. Now it was over, and they only had to wait for the others—

“Fuck,” Tony said. "It's not working."

Steve looked down only to see Tony still hard. Which wasn't unusual for Steve's serum-enhanced body: he could usually go a good three or four times in a row, but…

Tony was only human. Tony was a normal man, at a mature age, and his cock definitely shouldn't stay rock solid after just coming his brains out.

“Why,'' Tony nearly sobbed. “Fuck, I'm so hard it hurts.”

Steve watched Tony's face twist in pain, watched him writhe on top of Steve in clear discomfort, and had a silent battle with himself.

Steve knew he bore full responsibility for the situation. Tony was practically incapacitated, drugged out of his mind, while Steve remained immune and fully conscious of his actions.

It was bad enough that Steve had allowed it to go this far. He should have suggested that Tony settle down and wait for backup to arrive or, worst case scenario, Steve would forcibly carry him out of this place.

But at the same time, Steve wanted. He'd wanted Tony for so very long and now that he had him, however briefly, he didn't know if he was strong enough to resist. Because watching Tony suffer was worse than the pain of any battle wound or asthma attack Steve had ever had to endure. He might not be what Tony wanted, but at this moment, maybe he was what Tony needed.

It was a flimsy excuse, but it made Steve feel a little better when he gripped Tony's thighs and said “fuck me.”

“I did,” Tony whined. “I did, and it was amazing, but I'm still, I need more.”

“No, Tony. Fuck. Me,” Steve said.

Because of the drug, Tony's genius brain was slower than usual to catch up. But when he did, Tony's eyes went wide and he let out a quiet gasp.

“You—you'd let me?" Tony asked breathlessly. "Shit, Steve, are we—you mean you’d really let me…?”

Deciding that actions might get the point across better than words, Steve wordlessly lifted Tony off his lap and shucked off his uniform pants along with his underwear. The reminder of the stickiness in his briefs sent a rush of shame through him, but he gave Tony no such indication.

Without fanfare, Steve turned around on all fours. The concrete floor was still uncomfortable, but better him bear it than Tony.

“Oh god, oh my god,” Tony moaned behind him.

Callused hands palmed at Steve's ass, spreading his buttocks. Steve didn't know if it was him or Tony that was shaking.

“God, you look so good. So tight."

Tony circled his rim with a finger and Steve jolted, grunting in surprise.

“I cant believe you’d—fuck. Fuck, I’ve wanted this so long, and I wanna make it good for you, but I—I don't have anything, and…”

Yeah, well. Steve knew neither of them had anything to make this easier, but he also knew his body well enough to be sure he'd manage. Besides, Tony was still wet, leaking constantly—it had to be a side effect of the drug—and though it might chafe a little in the beginning, Steve could take it.

He wanted to take it, for Tony.

“I don't need anything,” Steve said. “Just go for it.”

“Oh, fuck,” Tony moaned, and then he shifted behind Steve, and—

Steve let out a startled yell when he felt a tongue prodding at his hole.

Tony wasted no time, licking at his ass like a man starved, with a loud and filthy moan like this was pleasure for him and not Steve.

Steve bowed his head and tried to suppress his whimpers; he was sensitive all over, and this was no exception. Tony kissed and lapped at his ass, breath ragged and goatee scratching against Steve's perineum, and it felt incredible.

“Oh, oh god,” Tony panted. “Your ass, Steve, I can't—”

Tony made a choked whine and roughly grabbed Steve’s buttcheeks to spread them wide before diving in. He wiggled his tongue into Steve's body, stretching his hole deliciously, and Steve couldn't, how was he supposed to hold on when that was Tony’s tongue inside him—

With a scream, Steve came again, splattering onto the concrete and clenching around Tony's tongue.

Tony worked him through it, licking at him inside and not allowing Steve's clenching body to slow him down. Steve realized that Tony was moaning, a constant sound and vibrations against Steve's clenching rim.

Tony pulled off and was immediately back to running his mouth. “Holy shit, that was hot, so hot, you’re so good, fuck, Steve, I can't… I'm so hard, I, I think I'm actually gonna die if I don’t get to fuck you, please, please let me fuck you.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder. Tony was fisting his own cock; the tip was flushed dark and almost purple, and Tony looked like he was in agony, grimacing while he roughly tugged on his length.

“Put it in,” Steve said. His voice was gruff, like he was giving an order in the field, telling Tony to put on the suit.

And Tony whimpered “thank you, thank you so much” and scrambled to obey, lining himself up with Steve's hole and pushing.

Steve grunted at the pressure against the tense muscle. It was a tight fit, and not an easy ride even with Tony's leaking cock and the spit still clinging to Steve's rim.

But any discomfort Steve might have felt was drowned out by the filthy, unabashed moan Tony let out as soon as the head popped in. His hips immediately stuttered forward, nudging his cock further inside and forcing Steve to take more, feeding his cock into Steve's clenching body.

“Oh fuck, oh, that’s it, you can do it, baby, god, you're taking me so well,” Tony murmured.

And Steve bit his lips to muffle a whine, because it was good—it was perfect. He'd always liked it rough, and like this he could feel everything. But he had to keep his voice down: Tony could never know how much Steve loved being taken like this, how his leader had fantasized about being on his knees and used by Tony.

Tony eventually bottomed out and then he stayed in place, trembling all over. Steve was already back to full hardness, because how could he not be, with Tony around him, inside him, surrounding him everywhere.

“Steve… Steve,” Tony groaned. “You feel amazing, so tight, so fucking tight, and I can't, I want to make it good for you but I can't.”

“Do it,” Steve rasped. “Fuck me. I can take it.”

And that was all it took. Tony pulled out and pushed back in, making Steve gasp and stretching his hole further, forcing his body to adapt. Tony moaned and then did it again, harder this time, setting a punishing pace fucking into Steve's body, the obscene noises of their moans and skin slapping against skin filling the room.

It was better than Steve had ever dreamed. He was so turned on it felt like he was affected by the drug too; shame burned hot on his face but he didn't stop, only braced his arms against the floor and rocked back onto Tony's cock.

Steve came again at some point: not really registering it, other than the pained whimpers Tony made as Steve clenched around his cock. It prompted Tony to grab his hips brutally and pump faster, harder, coaxing Steve's overstimulated body back to arousal.

“You're so good, so amazing, I love you,” Tony said between thrusts. "God, Steve, I love you, you’re perfect.”

Steve flushed and ignored Tony's blabbering: he had to be really out of it to be speaking like that. Though that fact didn't register with Steve’s cock, which was already chubbing back up, half-hard and twitching with the sweet words spilling out of Tony’s mouth.

“God, Tony,” Steve moaned. “Don’t stop.”

“Never, never gonna stop, gonna keep fucking you until I die, you—fuck, Steve, you feel so good,” Tony said.

His cock slammed in and out of Steve’s body, making the concrete crack under Steve’s hands as he dug his fingers into the floor.

And then Tony bowed over him, chest to back. The new angle of thrusts nailed Steve’s prostate and he cried out, loud enough that he’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“Oh, oh, darling,” Tony panted into Steve’s sweaty neck. One of his hands left Steve’s hip, circling around to grab at his cock and making Steve jolt. “One more,” Tony said, tugging on Steve's dick with uncoordinated movements. “Please, sugar, one more. Come on my cock, you clench up so nice, so good for me.”

And Steve was helpless: the words, the assault on his prostate, the hand on his cock, they all blended together into blinding pleasure until he came with another scream.

This time, Tony followed, grabbing Steve’s hips and fucking him hard and deep through the release. Tony spilled into his clenching body, a ragged moan tearing out of his throat while his nails dug into Steve's hips hard enough to break skin.

After it was over, once Tony's thrusts stilled and he slumped over Steve's back, Tony sobbed out one last “thank you” and promptly passed out.

And Steve lied there: sweaty and covered in his own come, with Tony's finally softening dick still inside him and blood pricking at the scratch marks on his hips.

That was when the door slammed open with a crack of thunder and a sob broke free from Steve as he realized what he had just done.

—

The team found them like that: naked and collapsed together in the abandoned room, the evidence of Steve's depravity all over them.

Clint and Thor stopped in the doorway, uncertain how to proceed. Meanwhile, Natasha approached without a word and helped lift Tony's unconscious body away from Steve.

Steve didn't trust himself to speak, so JARVIS took it upon himself to inform the others of Tony's exposure to the unknown substance while Steve shamefully collected the discarded parts of his uniform.

Clint pulled out a mask and volunteered to take a sample of the plant—Steve didn't question why he carried a gas mask in his quiver—while Natasha wrapped Tony in Thor's cape and the god easily carried him out.

Natasha used her override code to get JARVIS to pack up the armor. Because, god, they all had overrides to Tony's tech. Tony had given them codes, because he trusted them with his armor and his life, and Steve had—

"Come on," Natasha said as soon as Steve was dressed. "I can't carry the suit."

Steve nodded stiffly and picked up both his shield and the suitcase-sized cube that the Iron Man armor had morphed into.

–

A strong aphrodisiac.

That was what Bruce, after analyzing the sample, had deduced it to be.

"It's unlike anything I've ever seen," Bruce said. "Like an overdose of Viagra in airborne form. With Tony's medical record, he was lucky to make it out without damage to his heart."

His…his heart? God, Steve could have given Tony a heart attack, with—with what he did.

"So…" Clint broke the heavy silence that had settled over them. "Sex pollen?"

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Natasha smacked Clint upside the head.

And apart from a few sympathetic looks aimed at Steve, nobody brought up what happened in the Hydra base.

—

Steve couldn't bring himself to face Tony.

Upon waking up, Tony had been discharged from medical after only a few hours. The toxin had already cleared itself from his system and his heart—thank god—was unharmed despite the potent drug. Steve's cuts and scrapes had healed before they'd even made it back to the tower, and despite both him and Tony being okay physically…

Steve would never be able to forgive himself.

Tony had asked for consent. Even drugged out of his mind, he had asked Steve before touching him, before getting himself off on Steve's body, and before taking him.

Meanwhile, Steve had just taken advantage.

He didn't know how much Tony remembered. It didn't change the severity of Steve's action, but for Tony's sake, Steve hoped he didn't remember Steve forcing himself on him. Tony had enough bad memories without Steve added to the mix: he'd suffered too much for one lifetime, he'd trusted Steve, and Steve—

And Steve had betrayed him.

Had betrayed him like Stane and Hammer and the rest of those weasels, shown his true colors as soon as Tony's guard was down.

And so Steve hid like a coward: spending all of his free time in the gym or holed up in his room.

—

It was a week before Steve forced himself into action.

He'd heard from the others that Tony had spent much of the past week at the tower, which was unusual. Normally, he'd travel around to different business meetings around the world or at least be busy with countless obligations in New York.

Any other week, it would have made Steve's day to know that Tony was here in their shared home, but now it felt oppressive. Like Tony was using his presence to remind Steve that he gave him a home and he could just as easily take it away.

That only cemented the fact that Steve didn't deserve to live in the tower. He didn't deserve to be near Tony, and how the team left him unsupervised was beyond him.

Yet, no matter how guilty Steve felt, he couldn't stop thinking about that day.

The serum had always made his libido difficult to manage and Steve couldn't go many days without bringing himself relief. But now it was somehow even worse; his body demanded attention several times a day, like his dick hadn't gotten the memo that not only was what happened between Steve and Tony a one-time-thing, it was also morally despicable.

It wasn't like the shame was new to Steve: on the contrary, he'd known for years that it was wrong to think about Tony when he masturbated, because Tony was his friend and decidedly did not see Steve that way. But now? Steve had a mental movie reel—curse his eidetic memory!—of himself having sex with Tony to resort to.

And so every day, Steve pleasured himself to the images and memories of himself sexually assaulting his teammate, and it was disgusting.

But he also came faster and harder than he’d ever done before this. He only had to think about the feeling of Tony inside him and the memory of Tony’s goatee scraping against his neck, about Tony pleading one more, Steve, one more, you tighten up so nice around me when you come.

On the seventh such night in a row, Steve looked down at the sticky mess in his hand and knew that this needed to stop.

Steve grit his teeth and set for the workshop.

—

Despite the late hour Steve found Tony in his workshop, tinkering away.

It was a familiar sight that instantly made Steve feel more at ease. Steve didn't often come down here, but even he noticed the slight disarray in the workshop: some machines had been moved from their usual spots and cardboard boxes had inexplicably appeared around the place.

But Tony's head was bobbing with the music and he appeared intently focused on his work, which was a good sign.

…Unless Tony hadn't eaten or slept again and was only doing this as a distraction from the pain and betrayal—

Steve forced himself to knock on the glass wall between them before he chickened out.

Tony looked up and as soon as their eyes met, the fake smile Steve recognized from press conferences and SHIELD debriefs plastered itself onto Tony’s face.

“Steve!” Tony's voice carried through the speakers above the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure of Captain America in my humble workshop?”

Steve resolutely ignored the flash of something the word pleasure caused. “We need to talk.”

Tony’s smile appeared even more forced. “Well, come on in then.”

“I think it's best to keep a wall between us,” Steve said, shame hot and unpleasant in his gut. “I don't trust myself around you.”

Tony's face fell, the fake pleasantries replaced by something cold and unreadable.

“J, close off the floor.” And then Tony seemed to catch himself. “No, I mean—only let Steve out. Don't let anyone else in.”

God, Tony really wanted him gone that badly. Steve would try to make this quick, but he needed to apologize properly.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said, his voice breaking. “I know that probably means nothing, but I am so, so sorry. There's no excuse for what I did to you, and I know I need to leave the team. You have every right to press charges—”

“Woah, woah, what, hold up.” Tony raised his hands. “Is… is this some new branch of reverse psychology? Advanced victim blaming?”

Steve frowned. “No. I mean it.”

“Then why the fuck is Captain America standing here and apologizing for me raping him?”

Steve flinched like he’d just been burned. He didn't want to use that word, had shied away from it like a coward, yet that's exactly what had happened.

Except… Tony had it the wrong way around.

“Tony, I… I think you're confused.” Steve said. “It was the—the other way around. I wasn't affected by the drug.”

“Don't lie to me, Steven,” Tony snarled. “Do you think it's gonna make me feel better if you claim you were sober enough to consent?”

Steve floundered for an explanation. Luckily, he had unexpected backup.

“If I may,” JARVIS interrupted. “Sir, like I've stated previously, Captain Rogers was not compromised by the substance.”

“No, no, that's wrong,” Tony waved off. “Calibration error. We were both hit, and it wore off before we got to medical, so it didn't show up in Bruce's tests.”

“But I wasn't,” Steve said. “Tony, you were the compromised one. I retained full bodily autonomy the entire time. The serum makes me immune—you know that.”

“Yeah, right. So you went face down, ass up just for the hell of it?” Tony snarked.

Steve's face flushed hot but he didn't protest. What was he supposed to say? Yes, Tony, and I very much enjoyed getting railed by you while you were drugged?

“Uh,” Tony said into the silence. “Cap. This is the part where you yell at me and say you're not gay, and that I'm a terrible human being who coerced you and who should be locked away, just so I can never hurt anyone again. God knows I've earned it, with my track record.”

The last part was muttered, like it wasn't meant for Steve to hear.

“Tony.” Steve steeled himself. “I think the drug messed with your memories.”

“Oh, no, I remember everything in very vivid detail,” Tony said ruefully.

“Well, I…” Steve cleared his throat and tried not to think about what he had done with his own memories. “What happened a week ago is that you got exposed to a drug that made you aroused. I was immune, so when we… When you propositioned me and we slept together, that was me taking advantage of your state. You couldn't consent.”

Confusion flashed on Tony's face as his brain worked to piece together the information.

“You're not lying,” Tony said. “You've always been shit at lying, and now…it doesn't look like you are. Are you lying?”

“I'm not,” Steve said. “I wouldn't lie about this.”

“Then why?” Tony frowned. “Your teammate gets hit with a sex drug and starts rubbing up on your, and you…let them fuck you? Do you think that's your Captainly duty or something? That if it’s on your watch, you need to help your team like that, because fuck, Steve, somebody needs to teach you about consent if you'd drop your pants for me, or any of us, and—for fuck's sake, it could have been the Hulk!”

“No!” Steve said. “I wouldn't—I didn't, not—not because of duty. I knew exactly what I was doing and who I was doing it with. I was fully in my right mind. You weren't. Which means this is my responsibility.”

Tony tilted his head comically.

“You…you let me fuck you… because you wanted me to fuck you?”

Steve sighed. “Yes.”

“What the fuck,” Tony said, again as to himself. “What the fuck, Steve, you—you even let me fuck your tits!”

Steve flushed but stayed strong. “Yes.”

“And—and when you came four times, that…that wasn't the drug?”

“That was because I liked it.” Steve's face was beet red. “The…the four times, that's… the serum. It's normal.”

Tony stared. And then stared some more.

“You… liked it?” Tony said. “Jesus, Steve, I was terrible! I just chased my own pleasure like some kind of animal. And, and we did it dry, that can’t have been good for you, oh, god, I'm so sorry—”

“You're wrong.” Steve blurted. “I—my body can take a lot. If it wasn't good for me, if you'd hurt me, I could have easily stopped you.”

“But you didn’t,” Tony said, then frowned. “Why didn’t you, again?”

“I told you; I liked it.” Steve cleared his throat. “I liked it so much that…that, after, I've touched myself to the memory of you on me. Around me. In me.”

Steve kind of felt like curling up and dying after that confession. But, finally, Tony didn't seem upset anymore. If anything, he was starting to look more curious.

“You... What?”

“Daily. Several times a day. It's… a problem,” Steve forced the words out. “I came here because...because it's wrong. I thought it would stop if you yelled at me, if you told me just how disgusting I am for betraying your trust.”

“No, no, god, Steve, no,” Tony said. “That's…extremely flattering, actually. I, uh, I mean. Same. I tried not to think about you when I… yeah. But how was I supposed to resist? You're literally my wet dream come true. I'm a bad, bad man and this is no exception.”

“You're not a bad man, Tony,” Steve said. “I'm glad you—I'm glad you have fond memories of what happened. Maybe it helps to deal with it.”

“So…you liked it.” The ghost of a smile flashed over Tony’s lips. “Even the…well, the parts where I had as much finesse as a fourteen year old Tony who jerked off at his Cap poster.”

“I liked it,” Steve said, resolutely ignoring the fluttering of hope in his chest. “All of it. The only thing I would have changed is… well, that you'd have been there, uh, mentally. Other than that I…I, uh, like it rough.”

“You like it rough,” Tony repeated again. “So I…didn't brutally rape a virgin Captain America?”

“None—neither of those.” Steve cleared his throat. “Not the…you didn't force yourself on me, and, uh. Not a virgin. Not for the past seventy years—the, uh, the army's a good place for…experimenting, especially with a new serum-enhanced body.” Steve blushed. “So, I, ah, I've definitely been with fellas before. And when you said Captain America isn't gay…it's not, well, exactly true.”

Tony's mouth was comically slack until he shook himself out of it. “Okay. Okay. I'm going to open the door,” Tony said. “You can leave anytime, but I physically need to open the door, right now, because I can't just watch you stand there and be all—all bashful and reasonable. So, door, okay?”

Steve nodded and JARVIS took the initiative to slide the door open.

Tony took a hesitant step forward, and that was the cue Steve needed to stride into the workshop.

“You…” Tony stared at him, only a few feet between them. “You're really not mad at me.”

“No, Tony, never,” Steve said, then frowned. “You sure you're okay? This must be disorienting for you. I'm so sorry for what happened—”

“Nope, nuh-uh, no señor,” Tony said. “You don’t get to be sorry. You liked having sex with me? Well then imagine how I felt, getting to live my favorite sex fantasy of thirty years and have the whole thing ramped up to eleven because of sex pollen.”

Steve flushed. “Oh.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Tony groaned dramatically.

“Oh, god." Tony rubbed his forehead. “How am I supposed to live with the fact that I know just how far down that blush goes? Wait, no, sorry, that's inappropriate—fuck, I cant believe that you wanted to have sex with me. What a lapse in judgment, huh?”

Tony was grinning at him, an attempt at deflecting that made Steve frown.

“I've wanted you for a long time,” Steve said. He didn't realize the gravity of the statement until Tony's eyes went wide. “I—I mean. I thought that was obvious, from the way… from how I acted.”

“I'm dreaming,” Tony said. “Or I'm dead and went to heaven. The drug was poison and I died instantly. What else could this be? I’m just surprised I went to heaven, because, really, that’s the only explanation for why someone like you would ever want me.”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Steve said. “You're…you're important to me. And I don’t like hearing you put yourself down.”

“You're still not lying,” Tony said, amazed. Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I'm glad we got this whole mess cleaned up. Thanks for being so understanding, that… it means a lot, Cap.”

And, just like that, Tony promptly turned back to his work.

“Oh,” Steve said, disappointed. “That's…that's it?”

“Well, yeah?” Tony glanced at him. “We just established we had an enjoyable tumble in the sheets—concrete?—together, and neither of us has to feel guilty about it. And, that? About two hundred and fifty percent better than I ever anticipated this conversation going. So we're good, right?”

Steve stamped down harder on the hope inside him.

“Right," Steve said.

Tony tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Unless...?”

Steve swallowed. I'm in love with you, he should say.

“What are the boxes for?” he asked like a coward.

“Oh, those.” Tony chewed on his lip and looked at a half-open box. “Well, I was kind of in the middle of moving out of the tower.”

Steve’s heart felt like it was sinking through the floor below him. “Because of me?”

“Yes—well, no, technically because of myself and how I thought I’d scarred you for life,” Tony said. “I mean, if I really had forced myself on you, I wouldn’t have any right to stay here. To be around you.”

“But…Tony, this is your home.”

“No,” Tony said, his expression firm. “It's all of our home, and if I fucked up, I should be the one to leave.”

Steve was surprised at the determination behind Tony's words. At the same time, he was just glad that he got here in time to stop his plans of leaving.

“But, well, obviously I no longer need to,” Tony said. “Which is amazing, and—and is gonna have a very high risk of making me emotional if I allow myself to think about it, getting to stay here and not having you hate me.” Tony swallowed.

The thought of Tony fearing Steve hating him was somehow even worse than the week Steve had spent thinking Tony never wanted to see him again.

“God, Tony. Never,” Steve said.

“Well, anyway.” Tony cleared his throat. “I was gonna leave you with some of this stuff in case Bruce or the spy kids needed to tinker with something. I was planning to just finish up this project and then be on my merry way, but now I have some bots to unpack and a spare penthouse apartment to gift to Pepper. So, uh. Thanks. For not kicking me out.”

Steve's eyes were misting. Tony would really have picked up his whole life and left his home and his team, his family, because he thought he'd hurt Steve.

“What was the project?” Steve asked, not caring if his voice was a little unsteady.

“Oh, these?” Tony turned around to his workstation. “Just some new tech for the team.”

He grabbed what looked to be some kind of visor. “This is a retractable filter mask,” Tony said. “It slots into a new earpiece and automatically deploys when it detects certain substances.”

Steve nodded, feeling just as awed as he always did when Tony showed off his inventions.

“The other one's an arm strap,” Tony said, pointing at what looked like a simple collar. “It monitors toxins and foreign substances in the blood and sends an alert to JARVIS and the team if someone’s in danger. I'm gonna integrate it with Bruce's lab to automatically synthesize any known antidotes. And it’s recalibrated to account for organic matter and supersoldier serum, but, y’know, maybe don't wear it during one of Thor's mead-drinking contests or you could trigger a false alarm. Because god knows—or maybe they don't, ha—what's in that stuff.”

Steve's heart throbbed with emotion. Tony always looked out for the team, spending days and nights making sure they were safe on the field. How did Tony ever think that the Avengers would kick him out? They needed him; Steve needed him.

But he couldn't say that, could he?

“These are great, Tony,” Steve said, trying to keep the adoration from bleeding into his expression.

“I made them for you,” Tony said, and it felt like Steve had been punched in the gut. “If I was gonna get kicked out, at least I wanted you to be safe. So that nobody could do anything like that to you again, which...yeah, seems kinda like a moot point now.”

The confession had Steve reeling. He could no longer keep the affection from bubbling up and threatening to spill over.

Tony thought Steve would want him gone, would hate him, and as his last act as an Avenger was to create gadgets that would protect Steve in the future?

“But, hey, they should still prove useful,” Tony said. “And I figured I'd throw in ones for the whole team, too. Since bioweapons might be in our future and—”

“I love you,” Steve blurted out.

“—and I'd really hate for Hydra to get a jump on us again, and.” Tony suddenly paused. “Wait—hold up. What did you just say? Because—because I admit I'm not really known for listening to people, but I could’ve sworn you just said…”

Tony trailed off and Steve swallowed and steeled himself.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve repeated.

Tony blinked. “You really liked that sex, huh? Wow, maybe I should get drugged more often, if it’s enough to actually make people fall in love with me out of the blue. Cupid’s bow, magic dick, what's the difference, right?”

Rejection. Though Steve knew it was coming, it still hurt. And maybe he was digging his own grave, but he needed Tony to know the full truth.

“—I mean, I always wanted a superpower, but come on, how do you brand magic dick in a way that's not a PR nightmare—”

“It wasn't just the sex,” Steve said.

Tony's sentence screeched to a halt.

“I…I've felt this way for a long time,” Steve said. “Way before last week. It wasn’t the sex—even if that, uh, was very nice.”

Steve's face felt too hot. God, he was a mess.

“When I say I want you, I don't mean just your body,” Steve said. “I want—god, Tony, I want all of you. And that's why it was so hard to resist, when you looked at me like you wanted me too.”

“I did,” Tony blurted.

“You…did?” Steve asked.

“What do you mean, you did? Of course I did—do. I do want you.” Then he laughed, somewhat hysterical. “Listen to me, I do, I do, you'd think we were getting married or something.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to be stunned into silence.

“God, this is surreal,” Tony said. “I've literally had my tongue in your ass and now I can barely even say ‘hey, by the way, I like you.’"

Steve flushed but decided not to comment.

“Well, since we're having this heart to heart.” Tony sighed. “And since I don't have control over the shit that leaves my mouth on a good day, much less a drugged-into-extreme-horniness-day, I'm ninety-nine point three percent sure that a week ago I, uh, told you exactly how I feel about you—how I've felt about you for a long time. In very vivid, excruciating detail.”

“I…” Steve swallowed.

You're so good, so amazing, I love you—god, Steve, I love you, his supermemory helpfully provided.

“You wouldn't be the first man to say things he regrets during coitus,” Steve said.

"Well, I'm not claiming I haven't been beating myself up over it for the past week—even if it wasn't my main concern." Tony looked away. "But, I, uh, the things I remember saying? All true. And—and not just about your tight ass—"

Steve made a strangled noise.

"Right, fuck, shit. Inappropriate. Shutting up now," Tony said.

"I, uh." Steve cleared his throat again. "So if you… can… would we… uh."

"Okay, I know I said I'm shutting up," Tony said. "But it would actually really help if at least one of us could string together a coherent sentence. So, I humbly ask that you say what's on your mind, before I end up talking more about my tongue in your ass."

This time, Steve only huffed out a surprised chuckle.

"I was just wondering if I could kiss you," Steve said.

Tony immediately perked up, a grin pulling at his lips. "Oh—oh Cap, Steve, honey pumpkin."

He strode up to Steve, oil-stained hands coming up to rest on Steve's shoulders.

"I completely, one hundred percent understand why you'd feel the need to ask, after—well, after," Tony said. "But let me assure you, that effective immediately, you have my full permission to kiss me whenever you want. Well, maybe not when we're fighting bad guys, because that's gonna leave you open for an attack and we know how I feel about you getting hurt. But any other time, I swear, even in the middle of a board meeting—"

Steve smiled as Tony kept going. But since the genius showed no sign of stopping his rambling, Steve decided to use his newfound kissing rights straight away.

"—And, honestly, fuck anyone who tries to tell me it's inappropriate to make out with you in public. Because, hello, have they hmmgh."

Tony made a surprised noise in the back of his throat when his sentence was interrupted by Steve's mouth on his. But he quickly adapted, wrapping his hands around Steve's neck and returning the kiss with a pleased hum.

And Steve realized that as nice as the sex had been, he'd never actually got to kiss Tony during it. Steve had thought he wasn't allowed, like that would be crossing a line. It would no longer have been just physical, but rather something intimate. Something deliberate.

But now he got to kiss Tony, because this was no longer about just the sex—it had probably never been just about the sex, for either of them.

Now, there were Tony's soft lips moving against Steve's own, Tony's goatee scratching against Steve's clean shaven chin and a devious tongue barely dipping out to tease at Steve's top lip. And Steve could do nothing but let out a deep, satisfied moan and slant his mouth, melting into the kiss.

"We're doing this?" Tony asked when they pulled apart for air. "The—the kiss kiss hold hands go on dates and yell at Tony for buying strawberries again? Or, well, you're probably not allergic to anything, which is a definite plus, because I can't accidentally kill you with gifts. Unless a giant plushie falls on you, but you're probably strong enough to handle that."

Steve took a moment to reorient himself. His mind was still reeling from the confession and the kiss, but it would figure that Tony's had already moved a lightyear ahead.

"I don't know about the berries and plushies," Steve said, "but I do know I wanna ration you."

"Ration?" Tony was grinning. "Oh my god, that's incredible. Haven't heard that one in—well, ever, and honestly I'm not fluent enough in forties slang to be completely sure it means what I think it does—"

Steve kissed him again, because it both got Tony to stop talking and because kissing Tony was thoroughly enjoyable. And Tony did say he had permission.

"It means I want you to be mine," Steve murmured.

"Well, then, I am very on board with that plan." Tony smirked. "And it just so happens that I'd also be very on board with taking a break from work and moving this to the couch. Maybe put the shop in blackout and be a completely mature adult and make out with my new boyfriend for half an hour."

Steve chuckled and steered them towards the couch. "That's a very specific thing to be on board with."

"What can I say?" Tony winked and pulled Steve down to sit beside him. "I'm a futurist."

Steve smiled and leaned in for another taste of Tony's lips. Unfortunately, he barely had time for a quick peck before Tony was talking again.

"For the record, I'm also on board with absolutely anything that happens on this couch or maybe even against one of these lovely workbenches," Tony said. "I mean, after the tongue in ass action there's really not much to be modest about—"

"You really do love bringing that up."

"Absolute highlight of my life, will never shut up about it." Tony grinned. "But, anyway, I just needed to say, when—when, if, hopefully?—we end up sleeping together again… I'm usually a much, much better lay than what you saw the other week."

Steve laughed. "I thought you did just fine."

"Oh, just you wait." Tony was smirking now, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Wait until you see me with actual brain capacity that's not just 'ooga booga put cock in Steve.' I—well, I'm not gonna be able to repeat the party trick of multiple orgasms, but, I'm gonna make sure you get yours. Not to brag, but I haven't had any complaints in that department before."

Steve smiled and placed a comforting hand on Tony's thigh. "I know you'll be amazing. No strange flowers or questionable Hydra experiments needed."

"Speaking of…" Tony said. "Do you think Bruce still has some of that pollen? Asking for a friend."

"Tony."

"Okay, fine," Tony sighed, his head slumping down on Steve's shoulder. "No performance enhancing sex drugs."

Steve nuzzled closer to murmur in Tony's ear. "I don't need an aphrodisiac to make you come harder than you have in your entire life."

It caused Steve no small amount of pleasure to see Tony flounder and honest to god blush. And then, Steve was taking advantage of Tony's slack mouth to finally kiss him again.

And once Tony collected his wits, callused hands pushing Steve down to lay on the couch while Tony climbed on top of him, Steve only smiled against warm lips and revelled in the pleasant feeling of déjà vu.

Because Steve already knew that this time—and all the other ones that followed—would be even better than the last.

#mth 2022 #stony #stevetony #steve rogers #tony stark #stony fic #marvel trumps hate #superhusbands #fic #starkfic #nsfk

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tenleaguesbeneath · 2 years

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A Pony, A Superhero, A Wrestler, and a Mutant Walk Into a Bar

So! I’m actually running this thing!

The general gist is that you’ll be exploring this weird fairyland (the Gardens of Ynn, a depthcrawl adventure by Emmy Allen) using characters from pretty widely disparate sources. If this turns into an ongoing thing, I reserve the option of opening up other otherworldly settings for people to explore.

Exact time(s) tbd depending on player availability but we’re looking at the weekend of the 17th-19th and the first half of the following week, through wednesday the 22nd. I might run multiple sessions to get everyone in provided I can get enough people in each session to make it fun. Actually, I’m hoping for that. This will be over Discord and Roll20. Send me an ask or reply to this post saying you want to sign up and I’ll send you the join links when all that’s set up.

Characters can be from pretty much any game that uses the familiar six stats and has both levels (so that we can use legend advancement because I am not converting experience points) and a similar concept of what a level 1 character is. Explicitly allowed (I’ve read the system and it meets the requirements) are D&D5, D&D3, Pathfinder, Stars without Number, Esoteric Enterprises, and any retroclone.

The adventure locale is an otherworld, Ynn, that can be reached fairly easily from anywhere. The adventure begins with everyone magically grouped together having come through portals from their respective homes into Ynn. Expect weird and whimsical NPCs and deadly traps. Expect your own cleverness to be more important than whatever is written on your character sheet for navigating, surviving, and most importantly plundering Ynn.

Even if your character comes from a high-tech setting, you can’t bring high-tech weapons into Ynn. When you cross the doorway, guns become toys (foam LARPing weapons, on the other hand, become deadly real in Ynn). Whether this transformation reverses on the return journey, and whether your character is surprised by it, is more variable (rule of funny applies). Other high-tech equipment might be similarly affected (GM’s discretion)

I’m generally going to be pretty lax about chargen (I kinda have to be, given the diversity of rulesets) as long as you’re being fair to everyone else at the table. So for attribute generation, assume that someone’s going to be bringing a character built on the D&D5 standard array and you’re not supposed to look obnoxious standing next to that. If you want to roll, that’s fine too. Starting level is 1.

I expect that I will have to make at least some things up as I go to match characters’ rules to the situations facing them (saving throw tables vs saving throws as modifier vs DC, for instance), but I am standardizing on increasing AC and positive attack bonuses; convert THAC0 accordingly.

Bring a picrew/other dollmaker illustration of your character, preferably already cropped into a circular token with a transparent background.

See you in the Gardens!

#a pony a superhero a wrestler and a mutant walk into a bar #the gardens of ynn

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the-dragon-chronicler · 7 months

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Response 03

Prompt: An archeologist accidentally unleashes an ancient curse during an excavation.

Response: Ya know, we always joked that this is how humanity would end. With deadly viruses, the deaths of beloved celebrities, and fire sprouting like weeds, I, at the very least, assumed we'd all be cleansed by a god or something by now. But no! We're all being damned by some sort of demon or something.

I blame my boss. An "American man," ya know? He's definitely an "American man," all right. He is the stupidest smart man I know! Of course, we told him to leave the stuff alone, but no. He wanted to dig up that tomb. He wanted all the 'untold riches'. Never mind the fact that the interpreter read the words "black," "annihilation," and "death" a good twenty times.

And of course, boss man had to desecrate the fossil by picking up both the talisman and the medallion and wearing them both.

Honestly, he looked ugly as shit.

Anyway, this all started a few days ago. We were sent to this "abandoned mine" deep in the Rocky Mountains and when I say deep, I mean deep. We had started near Santa Fe on Tuesday. It's now Wednesday of the next week and our outside team told boss man that we're still near Santa Fe. We had been walking for the majority of these passing days. We even took pictures of a lot of things as we walked. There were some pretty good ones. There was one of Sammy, a junior archeologist, pretending to trace some symbols on the wall; and another one of Johnson laying in an empty grave and us pretending to dig him up. Those were fun.

But back to the point! We questioned boss man a few times as to how we were going to know when we reached the fossil. He said that we'd know when we heard somebody singing.

Now, before you all ask, we all took this creepy ass job because they promised us two-hundred dollars for every hour it took us to find the fossil. I accepted because I'm a broke college graduate who decided to work for their uncle's company. Sammy has to pay for his sister's school. Johnson, compared to us, was just a greedy bastard. I wasn't all that close to the other crew so I couldn't tell you why they took the job.

It took us another two days to reach what we now know as a tomb. It wasn't anything special at first. It was a large, closed-off, room. The walls extended so far above us that the light of our flashlights couldn't hit anything. There were letters and symbols decorating damn near every inch of those walls. After a few minutes of getting more familiar with our surroundings. We set up a few different dig sites. All of us first found pieces of a stone tablet. Sammy had the smart idea of having our interpreter piece it together and translate it. Such a smart kid. After that, we all kept finding rat skeletons.

We didn't even question it at the time.

We honestly should've.

We ended up with five pretty big piles of them. After around five or so hours of digging, boss man struck gold. All we were supposed to do was document the existence of the damn thing.

And now, we're in present day. Only Sammy and I are still alive. This...thing keeps asking us questions. Wants to know about our aspirations and families and shit. Sammy has it distracted while I type out this distress message.

Please.

If you're getting this, please send the bastards who sent us down here. It's already killed people it deemed "unsatisfactory and unworthy" both inside and outside this mine. It showed us what it did...

God...no. There is no God if this thing could do that.

Damned thing kept mumbling about "Untouchables" too. I'm gonna assume those bastards are still alive. They constantly had all this tech stuff on.

Fuck. It's coming towards me. Please someone find them.

#writing prompt #original writing #promptober #short story #writblr

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newstfionline · 1 year

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Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Seas have drastically risen along southern U.S. coast in past decade (Washington Post) Scientists have documented an abnormal and dramatic surge in sea levels along the U.S. gulf and southeastern coastlines since about 2010, raising new questions about whether New Orleans, Miami, Houston and other coastal communities might be even more at risk from rising seas than once predicted. The acceleration, while relatively short-lived so far, could have far-reaching consequences in an area of the United States that has seen massive development as the wetlands, mangroves and shorelines that once protected it are shrinking. An already vulnerable landscape that is home to millions of people is growing more vulnerable, more quickly, potentially putting a large swath of America at greater risk from severe storms and flooding. The increase has already had major effects, researchers found. One study suggests that recent devastating hurricanes, including Michael in 2018 and Ian last year, were made considerably worse by a faster-rising ocean. Federal tide gauge data from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration suggest that the sea level, as measured by tide gauge at Lake Pontchartrain in New Orleans, is eight inches higher than it was in 2006, just after Hurricane Katrina.

Congress Today Is Older Than It’s Ever Been (fivethirtyeight) Older members of Congress are notorious for their lack of familiarity with modern technology. Late last month, at least three different representatives in a hearing on TikTok called the popular app “Tic Tac,” a breath mint available in many store checkout lines. This is only the latest in a long line of amusing tech-related congressional miscues: Back in 2006, Alaska Sen. Ted Stevens described the internet as “a series of tubes,” and Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer copped to his struggles when in 2022 he held up his flip phone and said he was “not very tech-oriented” during a speech on the Senate floor. Don’t expect such unfamiliarity to change anytime soon: As it turns out, Congress today is older than it’s ever been. Across all senators and representatives, the median age of the 118th Congress is 59 years old. The median senator is 65 years old, a record high; the median representative is about 58, for the fourth Congress in a row.

25 years after Good Friday Agreement, cold peace prevails in Northern Ireland (Washington Post) “Peace walls,” they call them. Separation barriers topped with spikes. They were supposed to come down by now, 25 years after the Good Friday Agreement ended the horrors of three decades of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland. But still they stand. As a symbol, embarrassment and necessity. On Lanark Way, the barrier separates the mostly Catholic Falls Road from the mostly Protestant Shankill Road. A faded mural reads: “The more we sweat in peace, the less we bleed in war.” It is both a popular tourist site and a scene of what locals call “recreational rioting.” The rusted gates open every morning and close with a clang at 10:30 p.m. every night, effectively limiting free movement in a modern European capital. In the communities on each side, people say that Belfast is a far, far better place than it was during the Troubles—when Northern Ireland was the scene of petrol bombings, targeted killings and mass rioting that left 3,600 people dead, 47,000 wounded and many more living with the heavy load of their memories. But they are also skeptical of the celebratory mood as President Biden, former president Bill Clinton and other luminaries descend on Belfast this week to mark the “tremendous progress” brought by the U.S.-brokered Good Friday Agreement. There is peace now. But it is a cold peace.

Fancy a dip? An Olympic reboot for Paris’ toxic River Seine (AP) Even before he has dipped his toes into the murky waters of Paris ′ famous but forbidden River Seine, French triathlete Thibaut Rigaudeau is already fielding questions from disbelieving friends. “Are you scared of swimming in the Seine?” he says they ask him. “It looks disgusting.’” For decades, it was. Though immortalized in art, literature and song, and cherished by lovers who whisper sweet nothings or tearfully part on the privacy of its banks, the river was too toxic for most fish and for swimmers, largely useful only as a waterway for goods and people or as a watery grave for discarded bicycles and other trash. Swimming in the Seine has, with some exceptions, been off-limits since 1923. Now, however, a costly and complex cleanup is resuscitating the Seine just in time for it to play a starring role in the 2024 Paris Olympics.

Russia plans electronic call-up papers to help mobilisation (Reuters) Russia will soon draft men into the army by sending them electronic call-up papers via an online portal in addition to traditional letters, according to draft legislation due to be debated on Tuesday that aims to facilitate mobilisation. More than 300,000 former soldiers and ex-conscripts are believed to have been called up since President Vladimir Putin announced an emergency draft last year to support Russia’s “special military operation” in Ukraine. Currently, conscription papers in Russia have to be delivered in person by the local military enlistment office or via an employer, but the proposed changes to legislation would see conscription papers being sent via recorded mail and online. Once an electronic summons is received, citizens who fail to show up at the military enlistment office will be automatically banned from travelling abroad. The initial announcement to introduce mobilisation prompted thousands of draft age men to flee abroad last year.

Lethal Surprises Hidden in the Grass: Russia’s Trip Wires and Land Mines (NYT) With a practiced calm, a Ukrainian de-mining expert gingerly pushed aside stalks of dry grass, revealing a lethal surprise—a hand grenade rigged to a trip wire, waiting for someone to heedlessly step on it. The discovery, near the Ukrainian town of Lyman, was just one small development in a wider cat-and-mouse struggle between mining and de-mining teams that is becoming a pivotal element in Russia’s war in Ukraine. Mines, trip wires and booby traps are go-to defensive tools for Russia’s military, inflicting grievous wounds on infantry or stalling armored vehicles. Easy to rig, bury in dirt or cover with debris by the side of a village road, they are devilishly hard to find. Ukrainian land is covered in thousands of Russian mines, trip wires and booby traps. An area four times as large as Switzerland is unsafe because of land mines, the United Nations has estimated. They kill or maim hundreds of civilians each month. In March, land mines killed 226 civilians and wounded 724 others. Throughout Ukraine, about 350 de-mining teams work continually.

When exactly will India surpass China as most populous? (AP) India will surpass China’s population this month. Or maybe in July. Or, perhaps it’s happened already? Demographers are unsure exactly when India will take the title as the most populous nation in the world because they’re relying on estimates to make their best guess. But they know it’s going to happen soon, if it hasn’t occurred by now. China has had the most people in the world since at least 1950, the year United Nations population data began. Both China and India have more than 1.4 billion people, and combined they make up more than a third of the world’s 8 billion people. “Actually, there is no way we can know exactly when India will surpass China,” said Bruno Schoumaker, a demographer at Université catholique de Louvain in Belgium. “There is some uncertainty, not only about India’s population, but also China’s population.”

Myanmar’s Forgotten Crisis (Foreign Policy) Myanmar’s ruling military junta on Tuesday carried out a devastating airstrike on the village of Pazigyi, located in the country’s rebel-held northwest Sagaing region, killing at least 100 people, including around 30 children. Images from social media showed decimated buildings and roadways. The Tatmadaw, as Myanmar’s military is known, acknowledged responsibility for the strike but said it had targeted “terrorists,” not civilians. More than 13,000 children have been killed since the military took power, and over 17,500 people have been arbitrarily detained. At least 17.6 million people need humanitarian assistance, and tens of thousands more have fled to neighboring nations. Although the coup initially drew international media attention and condemnation from Western governments, attention has since waned, eclipsed by crises elsewhere, including in Ukraine. And Myanmar’s military leaders have taken advantage of this. Tom Andrews, the U.N. special rapporteur on the human rights situation in Myanmar, said, “The junta are like mushrooms; they thrive in the dark. I think because of the lack of attention, there is a lack of political will.” In this way, he fears the lack of an effective international community response will only worsen the crisis.

US, Philippines hold largest war drills near disputed waters (AP) American and Filipino forces on Tuesday launched their largest combat exercises in decades to be highlighted by a ship-sinking rocket barrage in waters across the disputed South China Sea and the Taiwan Strait, where Washington has repeatedly warned China over its increasingly aggressive actions. The annual drills by the longtime treaty allies called Balikatan—Tagalog for “shoulder-to-shoulder”—will run up to April 28 and involve more than 17,600 military personnel. It will be the latest display of American firepower in Asia, as the Biden administration strengthens an arc of alliances to better counter China, including in a possible confrontation over Taiwan, an island democracy that Beijing claims as its own. That dovetails with efforts by the Philippines under President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. to defend its territorial interests in the South China Sea, which China claims virtually in its entirety, by boosting joint military exercises with the U.S. and allowing rotating batches of American forces to stay in additional Philippine military camps under a 2014 defense pact.

Egypt secretly planned to supply rockets to Russia, leaked U.S. document says (Washington Post) President Abdel Fatah El-Sisi of Egypt, one of America’s closest allies in the Middle East and a major recipient of U.S. aid, recently ordered subordinates to produce up to 40,000 rockets to be covertly shipped to Russia, according to a leaked U.S. intelligence document. A portion of a top secret document, dated Feb. 17, summarizes purported conversations between Sisi and senior Egyptian military officials and also references plans to supply Russia with artillery rounds and gunpowder. In the document, Sisi instructs the officials to keep the production and shipment of the rockets secret “to avoid problems with the West.” Dozens of highly classified U.S. military and intelligence documents have been leaked online, revealing a detailed picture of the war in Ukraine, as well as analysis and sensitive information on Russia and other countries—from classified sources. The leak has far-reaching implications for the United States and its allies.

Yemen’s peace prospects (Foreign Policy) The world’s worst humanitarian crisis may have glimpsed hope for the first time in almost a decade. Saudi and Houthi officials met in Sanaa, Yemen’s capital, this weekend to discuss peace talks for the nine-year war. Oman mediated the discussion. The talks centered on reopening Houthi-controlled ports and Sanaa’s airport, rebuilding infrastructure, and establishing a timeline for foreign forces to exit the region, among other issues. This break in tensions comes after China successfully negotiated a reopening of relations between Saudi Arabia and Iran, the latter of which supports the Houthis.

Research with exotic viruses risks a deadly outbreak, scientists warn (Washington Post) When the U.S. government was looking for help to scour Southeast Asia’s rainforests for exotic viruses, scientists from Thailand’s Chulalongkorn University accepted the assignment and the funding that came with it, giving little thought to the risks. Beginning in 2011, Thai researchers made repeated treks every year to remote caves and forests inhabited by millions of bats, including species known to carry diseases deadly to humans. The scientists collected saliva, blood and excrement from the wriggling, razor-fanged animals, and the specimens were placed in foam coolers and driven to one of the university’s labs in Bangkok, a metropolis of more than 8 million people. The goal was to identify unknown viruses that might someday threaten humans. But doubts about the safety of the research began to simmer after the virus hunters were repeatedly bitten by bats and, in 2016, when another worker stuck herself with a needle while trying to extract blood from an animal. What if they encountered an unknown virus that killed humans? What if it infected their families and neighbors? In spring 2021, the Thai team’s leader pulled the plug, deciding that the millions of dollars of U.S. research money for virus hunting did not justify the risk. “To go on with this mission is very dangerous,” Thiravat Hemachudha, a university neurologist who supervised the expeditions, told The Washington Post. “Everyone should realize that this is hard to control, and the consequences are so big, globally.”

#headlines #news

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coffeebeannate · 4 years

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From This Prompt List

“If a person is destined to have a soulmate in this life, they will find that one of their eyes has changed colour, reflecting the colour of their anticipated soulmate.

For this to occur, the two must be in close proximity to one another (most studies say no less than several miles, but others claim that there have been some variations), and that, upon meeting, the eyes will revert to normal.

In some legendary, and notable cases, the eye colours will remain heterochromatic for the rest of their lives.

Of course, keep in mind that these stories are not always the same, and not every couple has a soulmate status. And that there is nothing less valid about non-soulmate couples.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, hastily closing the cover over his tablet, “Ah, sorry, can I help you?”

“The computers broken, again.” His co-worker sounds the most interesting combination of annoyed and sheepish, “Do we have to call tech support?”

“No, no, let me take a look, it’s alright.” Standing up from the desk, “The one we use for catalogue searching?”

“What else?”

He sighs, muttering curses under his breath, “Thing is about as good as a piece of scrap metal, at this point.” Resigning himself to an afternoon tinkering with the world’s most stubborn library resource computer. “It’s alright, go back to work, I’ll let you know if it decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Nicky, call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem” Facing the not-ancient but absolutely useless desktop, “You going to behave, or do we have to fight?”

Predictably, the computer blinks at him, Nicky sighs again and settles before it.

---

It isn’t that Nicky hates his life. Because he doesn’t, and despite what people might think, he’s fairly content. Working full-time as the head librarian might seem like an outdated job, but Nicky’s only 32, and he likes to argue that libraries are a vital part of society. Upgraded as they are, and some facets available entirely online. Besides, he had a degree in the stuff, and plenty of practice.

Andy might’ve had a series of interesting names for his life. His small apartment, three cats, more books and tech than is strictly necessary for a single man to have, and a car that is really a ridiculous thing, but it runs and he loves it and maybe the radio doesn’t work and it has no AC and the heater is also dying, but it’s a good car and he happens to find it charming.

He’s fine.

He’s dated, some one night stands, but nothing sticks.

“Are you reading that book again?” Andy asks, when she catches the soulmates book opened up on his tablet for what is definitely not the 10th, 12th, let’s not talk about it time.

“I think it’s comforting,” Nicky retorts, catching her look of disbelief.

“You know that in most cases, that shit’s a load of crap, yeah? Quynh and I have been married for eight years, no issue. She’s my soulmate, magical eyeballs aside.”

“I know I know..I just think it’s sweet.”

Nicky does not tell her that, for the last six or seven months he’s been glued to the damned thing. Everything feels antsy. He’s not an anxious man at all. His life has never felt empty, nor hollow. And yet, a few months back everything started feeling weird. Like he just couldn’t settle. Bee’s beneath his skin. Ghosting sensations across his scalp. Tingles.

He’d casually mentioned it during his yearly physical, but the doctor determined nothing out of sorts physically, and Nicky had been delaying calling a psychiatrist.

“Maybe you just need a change of scenery.” Andy suggested, stirring too much sugar into her coffee. ‘Maybe your library is finally getting to you.”

Nicky had declined to respond, but filed it away in the back of his mind regardless.

The morning that it happens, Nicky is running late, and doesn’t bother to look in a mirror much beyond ‘brushing teeth and running a comb over hair” before heading into work.

They’re finally upgrading the useless front computer, and he has to let the techs inside. Meaning he’s supposed to be at work an hour before he’d usually be, fiddling with his keys and muttering apologies as he opens the door fifteen minutes after he was supposed to let them in. Offering to buy them coffee for the troubles.

He’s that sort, after all.

He stands in the early morning crowd rush at the cafe yawning and buzzing, body thrumming with tension he can’t pinpoint, nor understand. It’s ridiculous and by the time he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar order, he feels much like he’s about to explode from it all.

The techs are thankful for their coffees, at least, Nicky tries to do some work in his office, and by the time he finally takes a break from his unsatisfactory work, it’s nearly noon.

There, in the libraries Men’s Room, is when he finally notices it.

His left eye isn’t grey, or green, or blue.

(Or whatever true colour his eyes seem to think they are)

It’s dark brown. So dark Nicky can barely see any other colour to it beyond pupil.

He blinks. Splashes water across his face, scrubs his cheeks.

It’s still there.

He takes a selfie with his camera, and stares.

Still there.

It’s still there after work, and the next day, and the Friday when he meets Andy for their usual after work time at the bar, Andy staring at him.

“So it’s not a contact?”

“No, I don’t wear contacts, or glasses! You know that.”

“You think your flowery soulmate shits legit then?”

“What else could it possibly be, Andy?”

Andy studies her beer, for once, she has no answer.

---

It is an extremely boring Wednesday morning when Nicky scrolls through his emails and finds something that bothers him for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s from one of the other departments, and it’s about the national art show being hosted at their oh so esteemed library. Nicky’s library is a popular venue because the building is historic and has a nice receiving room.

That’s not what bothers Nicky. He looks forward to this show. And it’s the first time he’d be in charge of much of it since becoming head librarian some eight months back, but no, it’s the shows headline artist that is prickling at him for yet again, reasons he can’t discern.

Nicky scrolls past the necessary details, but keeps going back to the beginning.

Headline Artist: Mixed Mediums. Classics with a Twist. Yusuf al-Kaysani

Nicky saves the email.

Again, no reason at all.

“Do you think it means anything?” He asks Andy and Quynh while four beers in and sitting on their couch.

“Some artist’s name you’ve never even met or heard of?” Quynh snorts, ‘Yep, definitely cracked some universal secret code there Nicky.”

He sighs, “Hand me another..”

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

“Sorry, are you uh,,Nicky..Genova?”

Yes, okay, that does sound odd. But to his credit! He was named Nicolò thank you very much. His mother had made some comment about classics, traditions, blah blah.

“Yeah! Sorry just let me-”

He’s at the top of a ladder, fiddling with a birds nest, of all things. The outside of the library (again historic building) attracted plenty of them.

“Take your time, I don’t usually yell at people on ladders, on principle and all.”

The voice is nice.

It’s the dumbest thought Nicky has had in his head in months.

“Good practice, that.” Finally gasping the nest, starting to climb down the ladder, “Okay!” When he’s returned to solid ground.

“So, what can I do for-”

Nicky, quite elegantly, forgets how to think. Or breathe. Or do anything appropriately life sustaining like that.

The man before him, nice voice man, his brain helpfully supplies. is..gorgeous. And see, Nicky has SEEN gorgeous men and is nicely partial to them. But this man is gorgeous, attractive and, most distractingly, has one blue-grey-green who actually knows eye, and one dark brown one.

And! Nicky notices, has completely lost his own ability to speak. The two of them seem to amend this moments later by pointing at each other’s face mostly rudely, stunned and confused.

Nicky seems to find intelligent language first, but only manages to say, “..Are you Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

The equally stunned gorgeous man confirms this, and Nicky is quite sure he either faints, or dies.

(He does neither of these things, thank you very much)

“..It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.” Yusuf says, finding actual intelligence far before Nicky does. Nicky just swallows.

Their eyes never reverse to their birth states.

Not at the first date.

Not at the proposal.

Nor the engagement party.

Or the wedding.

10 years later, Andy remarks that ‘the most romantic bastard she knows’ would indeed, find an even MORE romantic sap, and that they’d have the perfect book romance.

Joe’s cleaning out the closet one evening when he finds a well-worn paper back version of the novel that Nicky had read endlessly on his tablet all those years ago.

“Hey babe, you never told me you had a paper copy of this.”

“Hmm?” Nicky pokes his head out of the bathroom, “I do? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit worn out.”

Joe flips open the cover of it, peering down into the slightly musty paper, reading aloud and finding his way to join Nicky at the vanity.

“Before reading this book, we must advise and remind that soulmates in this manner are rare, and that there is little scientific study to show a truth. Please do not fret if you never fall into this concept.”

Nicky hums, accepting the arm to his waist, the familiar kiss to his cheek, ghosting along the side of his lips.

“Go on,” Nicky says, casually.

“You know this story, my heart.” Joe chuckles, but continues.

“This rare phenomenon has been observed throughout history..”

#the old guard #kaysanova #au #soulmates au #prompt fic #prompt fics #fanfic #fic #nate does writing #oops this got longer than i anticipated #old guard au #nilefreemans #bi-leigh-bi

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skzsauce01 · 4 years

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In Fair Verona︱Chapter 11

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: violent thoughts; conspiracy to murder; actual murder

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST this is the end!︱chapter list

A glooming peace this morning with it brings.

The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.

Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things.

Some shall be pardoned, and some punishèd.

For never was a story more woe

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

With its stalks of purple-blue flowers, monkshood is undeniably a beautiful plant. Jisung tends to it every day, despite his mother’s insistence that she should be the one taking care of her gift. He merely shrugs, and by Thursday evening, the monkshood is sitting on his bedroom windowsill.

It’s all part of his plan, of course; Jisung has other intentions for the plant other than making the house look pretty. When his parents are soundly sleeping, Jisung clears his desk of homework and textbooks and brings over the potted monkshood. He double-gloves his hands and begins pulling out the flower. He almost feels sorry for doing so, but it’s going towards a greater cause. Once its roots are out of the soil, he puts them down on an old cutting board he found stashed in a kitchen cabinet. He picks up the fruit knife he bought yesterday and begins dicing the root as finely as he can. His desk light is dim, and he strains to see the tiny wisps.

Jisung smiles to himself as he continues his work. The sound of the knife against the wooden board is soothing to hear, and he’s pleased by his progress. He places all the bits into the mortar and pestle he stole from the chemistry stockroom, and he begins grinding it into a powder. He’s careful to not inhale any of the dust by tucking his nose into the collar of his shirt the entire time. He regrets not putting on a face mask before starting. The grinding process produces gravelly noises, and he pauses in fear of being caught. There’s no reason to worry when both his parents are heavy sleepers, but beads of sweat form at the nape of his neck anyway.

When he’s satisfied with the results, he carefully tips the powder into a vial identical to the one used by the play. It’s more than he needs, so he puts the extras into a ziploc bag. In order to hide the extreme bitterness of the root, he spoons some sugar — from his home kitchen, not stolen — into the vial as well. He rubs the extra grinded root around the lip of the vial, making sure that all of it is covered. He then caps and shakes it until it mixes into an unassuming light brown powder. Tomorrow he’ll complete the final steps of his potion making.

He wipes down everything around him, making sure to leave no trace of any of the monkshood. The plant is effectively dead now after his work, so he disposes it into a trash bag along with his stained gloves. If his mother asks about the flowers, he’ll say it died since he overwatered it. Then, bag in his hand, he creeps out to the garbage bins set out for trash service and drops it in.

It’s 3 AM, and he needs to wake up in three hours, but he doesn’t even feel close to tired. There’s a renewed sense of energy and purpose coursing through him. He spends the rest of the very early morning lying in bed instead of sleeping. It’s likely that he’ll regret it, but the adrenaline keeps him bright-eyed until the sunrise.

He’s nearly all prepared for the final showing of Romeo and Juliet.

—

However, before the final showing can begin, Jisung needs to get through the Saturday show. He leaves his own vial in his desk drawer and puts on his crew shirt over his hoodie. He arrives before the mandated call time, and like last week, certain actors are running lines while the scarce few members of the tech crew hang around in the back of the auditorium. Felix is demonstrating some kind of fancy footwork to Minho in the wide aisles, while Chan and Jeongin are watching with interest. He supposes that Minho’s alright, despite him being friends with Hyunjin. Speaking of Hyunjin, he or you are nowhere to be seen, so Jisung assumes the two of you are cuddling together somewhere.

Why, yes, he is still a little bitter. Not as much as monkshood root though.

As the time approaches 5:30, the rest of the crew arrives, and Minho has to return to the stage to rehearse the fight scene again. Chan’s the one who stays by the lobby doors to let crew members inside this time. You and Hyunjin eventually emerge from whatever dark corner you were cozying up in. Jisung heads backstage, and he’s essentially forced to watch the two of you flirt with each other while the other actors run lines. Hyunjin intertwines his fingers in yours, touching your knuckles and teasingly bringing them up to his lips. You take your hand back at the last second, only letting a ghost of kiss brush across your skin. It ends with strawberry red cheeks and shy laughter.

It’s a good thing that he didn’t bring the monkshood and sugar mixture with him. He would have replaced the prop with it in a heartbeat. He’s over you, he says to himself. Just in a different way.

The comms in his ears are noisy, and they grow noisier when the doors open. Audience members start coming in, and the countdown begins.

Soon, the main curtain goes up. The magic of the play — if there was even any to begin with — has died for Jisung, and he doesn’t pay too much attention to it anymore. He can hardly believe that he once compared you to the sun. Hyunjin has massively improved in the balcony scene, and you gaze lovingly at him, no acting required. A mess of emotions — envy, anger, disgust, possibly love — resurface, and Jisung snaps his eyes back to the gardening forum he was reading yesterday. He concentrates on the words on the screen.

Depolarization. Immediately. Burning. Paralysis. Asphyxia. Severe.

For most of the show, he is. When the death scene occurs, he fantasizes about the revised version that will be happening tomorrow night. He feels his spirits rise, and he replays the moment in his head over and over again. He doesn’t even realize the play ends until the lights go out and the audience starts cheering. He jerks out of his daydream and mockingly claps for the cast. You hold hands with Hyunjin and bow on stage, and the room grows louder. Hyunjin smiles at you, and before you can change your mind, you stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. You bury your face in Hyunjin’s shoulder, while everyone goes wild. No one but Jisung has seen the two of you kiss off script before.

Jisung holds his own head in his hands, trying to stop his head from pounding. His whole body dissolves into shakes, and he’s angry at the reason why. He can’t have you, and the whole world seems to think you and Hyunjin are the perfect fit. He can’t take refuge in the restroom this time since there are bound to be people inside.

“Jisung?” Yugyeom asks. He gently touches his shoulder, and Jisung flinches. He takes his hand back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he bites out. “Just got a headache.”

“Oh. You want water or something?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

He rushes out of the auditorium and to a nearby water fountain. He drinks and drinks, water dripping from his chin and onto the linoleum floor, forming small puddles. He looks and feels like a feral animal. With the back of his hand, he wipes the lower half of his face.

Then with a straighter posture and a false aura of cheeriness, he heads to the back of the auditorium as he normally would. You and Hyunjin are missing, and he can only imagine what is happening between you two now — illicit kisses and possibly more. He sinks down into the cushy seat, willing it to swallow him. All everyone wants to do is talk about the curtain call.

“Ryujin was right,” Chan says. “He really is in love with her. Did you guys see the way he looked at her?”

Jeongin pretends to swoon. “They’re actually Romeo and Juliet.”

“You are paying attention to the play, right?” Ryujin says.

As anticipated, they banter over Jeongin’s poor word choice and semantics. Jisung sinks lower into his chair until only the top of his hair is showing. Changbin, sitting beside him, nudges him and gives him a look that says, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Headache,” he lies before changing the topic back to you and your love life. “You think they’ll last?”

Ryujin and Felix nod, Seungmin and Yugyeom shrug. No one explicitly says no. Jisung is disappointed in his friends and eager to prove them wrong.

A few actors come to return their mic packs, and you’re among them. You’re out of your costume and in a familiar hoodie. Jisung looks away, doing his best to remain calm. You look like you want to talk to him, but he injects himself into Changbin and Jeongin’s conversation, leaving no point of entry for you. You eventually give up, and you’re out of his sight soon enough. Hyunjin comes down the aisle minutes later and compliments Felix for his great work.

Hyunjin is closest to Felix out of everyone in the tech crew, but Jisung can’t help it. The question, “What about the rest of us?” bitterly slips out.

Hyunjin looks taken aback, but he nervously laughs it off and assures him that everyone else was just as good. The lighthearted atmosphere fades away and is replaced by an awkward tension. Luckily, Mr. Gi saves the day by announcing that it’s time for notes. Hyunjin scurries away, grateful to be out of that situation, and everyone else, Jisung included, is relieved that they can focus on something else.

After notes, Jisung doesn’t drive home immediately. He sits in his car, which is right behind Hyunjin’s. You’ve been letting Hyunjin drive you home recently, and he expects the same thing to happen tonight. He’s holding onto a tiny thread of hope that you will break up with your new boyfriend or come to an epiphany that Hyunjin is not the right person for you. If something like that does happen, he decides, he’ll change his plan and only target Hyunjin. This is truly your final chance to change your fate.

Nothing of the sort occurs. He watches from his rearview mirror as you get into the passenger seat of Hyunjin’s car. After Hyunjin himself gets in, he tugs at the collar of your — his? — hoodie and pulls you in. So, Jisung watches as your two silhouettes become one. Before he can spiral out of control, he starts his car, revving the engine as loudly as he can to try to break the two of you apart. He tears out of the parking lot before he sees what happens next.

It doesn’t matter though. It wouldn’t change anything.

—

Sunday. D-Day.

Sunlight streams in through his bedroom window, and when he checks his phone, it’s nearly 2 PM. He stayed up until four, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. The melatonin he took before going to bed didn’t kick in until it was too late. Now he groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and stretches until he hears all the bones in his spine pop. The rest of his morning, or rather afternoon, is standard. He rotates between feeling the effects of not enough sleep and being feverish of what’s to come. His heart skips beats every time he thinks about you and Hyunjin’s final scene together. He takes out the vial of monkshood from his desk drawer and gets to work.

Again with double-gloved hands, he carefully fills the vial with water from his bathroom sink. He counted the number of drops of green food coloring Yugyeom added last week, and he drops in the exact amount with the coloring he stole from the culinary classroom. Next he adds more powder around the rim and caps it shut. He shakes it, and the mixture turns into a sickly green. He then wipes the outside of his false vial before disposing of his gloves and tucking the container in his hoodie pocket. The cast and crew shirt he wears over it is bulky, and the lumps it forms conceals the bump made by the container. On his drive to school, he touches it with his free hand to ensure it’s still there.

He’s early again, so he sits with his unsuspecting and unassuming friends in the auditorium. He wants to swap and prepare the vials already, but he doesn’t want Yugyeom to dump them out by accident. For the next ten minutes, he endures Changbin’s complaints about math and the pterodactyl screeching from some minor characters on stage.

Before the tech run through begins, Jisung heads backstage and reorganizes the props in a haphazard fashion so that when Yugyeom sees the mess, Jisung can swoop in and offer to change out the water. Yugyeom gladly lets him take care of it.

Jisung does exactly that, and no one is none the wiser. Both the poison and Juliet’s sleeping potion are laying innocently on the prop table. He smiles at his deft work and cheerfully helps Yugyeom with the rest of the reorganization process.

“Thanks, Jisung,” he says as he sets the swords to the right side. There’s still a clutter of props around. “You’re a lifesaver.”

How ironic. However, he keeps his mouth shut about it. “No problem.”

“Yeah. It was all neat last night, too,” he laments.

Jisung fake sympathetically nods, and Yugyeom continually sighs. They fortunately finish before the doors open, and there’s even time left over for Jisung to pester Felix in the comms.

You and Hyunjin arrive backstage at the same time. Jisung mindlessly replies to the remarks from Felix as he watches the two of you out of the corner of his eye. Hyunjin is being more open about his affection, and you don’t seem to mind one bit. His arms are wrapped around your shoulders, his chin rests on top of your head. You’re babbling to Ryujin about something while your hands are holding onto Hyunjin’s forearms. Jisung’s almost numb to the feeling of anger at this point, and he looks elsewhere.

The lights go out, and the main curtain goes up for the final time. There’s thundering applause before the lights turn back on to reveal the chorus members on the stage. Jisung returns to his usual schedule of following instructions from his stage manager and floor chief and scrolling through his phone. He’s diligent that night, running on and off stage with set pieces. He sees you trying to approach him while waiting, but he pretends to be engrossed in whatever silly conversation is happening in the comms. You finally catch him off guard when you’re finishing up your costume change.

He gets up to drink water — he told Changbin beforehand — and you tap him on his arm. You’re barefoot, and your new shoes are lined up neatly by your feet.

“Hi, Jisung,” you nervously greet. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to apologize for being rude about not taking your hoodie a few nights ago,” you quietly say. You don’t even look at his face; your eyes are pinned to the wall. “You were trying to be nice, and I’m sorry for the way I acted. And…” The next part comes out in one rushed breath. “I’m sorry if I led you on. I never meant to do that. Hyunjin mentioned that he thought you were interested in me, and I just wanted to let you know that he and I are dating now.”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean ‘okay?’”

“I understand,” he says, though the monotone voice he uses indicates otherwise. “You didn’t lead on at all. We’re good.”

“Oh! That’s— that’s good!” you reply. You seem relieved, and a little bit of your usual sunny personality is back. “Are you going to District 9 after the show?”

The conversations you have with him always go back to two things: food or the play. He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I am. I gotta go.”

“Oh! Sorry!” You step to the side and let him pass.

At the water fountain, Jisung drinks an excessive amount of water, more and more liquid dripping down his chin. He imagines what it will be like when Hyunjin takes the last sip of his life. Will you notice him struggling to stay alive? Will you care? Or will you let the show go on and suffer the same fate yourself?

He heads back and broods in his seat. You have already forgotten about him and are whispering to Yuna about the upcoming scene. He turns the volume of his headset up and joins in on the chatter to forget about you. Jeongin is muttering about how he’s hungry already, and Chan mentions that he can buy something to eat during intermission. Jisung offers to buy him something if he can name the lead actors of the play. Jeongin sighs with exasperation, while everyone else snickers at the joke.

During intermission, Jisung buys a bag of chips from the concessions table and waits in the lobby with Jeongin as he eats. He has nothing better to do in that time.

“This is definitely worth being yelled by Ryujin all those times,” he remarks. “Want one?”

Jisung hasn’t been able to view chips the same way since the first day of rehearsal. He keeps seeing Hyunjin tossing the bag to you and you stupidly smiling at him. He only bought chips for Jeongin since it was the cheapest item available. A bit of anger bubbles inside him, but he tamps it down. “I’m good.”

Jeongin nods. He tips the bag back and catches all the crumbs on his tongue. He then crumples it up and tosses it in the trash can. “See you after the show.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Jisung, instead of waiting by the soundboard, goes backstage and waits with the rest of the floor crew. There’s a group of people — made of actors and tech crew members — playing Word Chains together. You’re sandwiched between Friar Lawrence and Yugyeom.

“Hey, Jisung. Wanna play?” you ask. You still seem a little scared of him based on the way you shrink, but you’re trying to play nice.

Jisung plasters on a false apologetic smile over the snarl that’s threatening to form. “The show’s going to start soon.”

A wave of murmurs breaks out, and everyone scrambles to get ready. Yugyeom goes to reorganize the props again, and you ask Ryujin to retie the ribbon in your hair. Jisung is mildly pleased by the chaos he has created.

Intermission ends, and the play resumes with Juliet meeting Paris. The death scene is only one act away, and it’s suddenly starting to sink in that tonight will be the last time he’ll ever see you walking, talking, speaking, breathing again. And you don’t even know it.

Something inside him relishes the power he holds over your life and Hyunjin’s as well. His fake smile transforms into a real one. Jisung rests his hands behind his head and counts down to the awaited scene. As each scene passes, his heart thumps louder and louder in anticipation.

Yugyeom hands Hyunjin the vial for the last scene, not knowing there is true poison swirling in the water. Hyunjin puts it in his pocket and walks onto stage on cue. Jisung can barely contain his excitement in the moments leading up to Hyunjin drinking the poison.

He lovingly cradles your face with his hand before bringing his lips to yours. It’s the final show, and Jisung supposes he wants to go out with a bang since he kisses you, deep and slow. There’s a mixture of sighs and gasps from the audience. Even a few of the tech crew members are shocked at his brazenness.

Then he brings out the poison, and the audience watches with bated breath as he brings it to his mouth. A preteen girl shouts, “Don’t do it!” and Jisung experiences heart palpitations before realizing that the message is not about the real poison. Hyunjin hesitates momentarily before swallowing, most likely surprised by the sudden flavor. Then he sharply inhales and clutches his chest. He barely gasps his last line before dropping dead. He falls back with a heavy thud. No one expects it to be real.

“Wow, he’s going all out for the last show,” Jisung hears Chan comment.

A wicked grin spreads across Jisung’s face. He imagines the burning sensation in his mouth followed by numbness. The confusion he must have felt! He must have regretted not listening to the girl. Did he assume that it was just some sick prank that would be over in a few minutes, or did he realize what was to come? Did he think of you and what your fate would be?

It doesn’t matter though. Hyunjin’s own lips, tainted with the monkhood powder, will be your downfall.

Even though you’re right by him, you don’t know of his death. You recite your lines, and every word you say about Romeo could very well be about Hyunjin.

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end. —

O churl, drunk all, and left no friendly drop

To help me after? I will kiss thy lips.

Haply some poison yet doth hang on them.

To make me die with a restorative.

You gently brush the stray locks of his hair from his forehead and lean down. It’s dead quiet, no background music or whispers from the audience. You kiss him slowly, letting the unknown poison reach you.

Thy lips are warm.

When Jisung catches a glimpse of your face, you look uncomfortable. The tingling effect from the monkshood is starting to make your lips swell, and you nervously lick them. Jisung chuckles to himself. Despite all the physical effects you’re feeling, you continue the scene like nothing’s wrong. You pick up the prop dagger and stab yourself, falling back like Hyunjin.

Though Juliet is supposed to be dead, Jisung can see your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. His own heart is racing as he watches you dying in real time. Your fingers twitch and then falter as you reach out for Hyunjin to check if he’s alright. You must have realized that something is off. However, you can’t shout for help. He knows that your tongue and mouth have gone numb and that the shining light of positivity in you is hoping that it’s all a temporary experience. There’s more shallow gasps and then you stop fighting. Your chest stops moving, and Jisung can hear the sound of a heart rate monitor flatlining in his head.

The rush of euphoria he gets sends him over the edge. Love never made him feel this good. How helpless you must have felt when you could only stare at the lights above you and pray for the sweet release of death. Did you silently beg for the pain to stop, or did you ask for forgiveness?

Jisung lets out a shaky breath and holds his head in his hands. He’s done it. You and Hyunjin will no longer torment him anymore. His grin trembles, his jaw shakes, and he wants to laugh, to celebrate. The actors on stage continue like the two of you are still alive, unaware of the corpses right by their feet.

The lights go out one last time, and the audience erupts in cheers and applause. There’s a stampede of people rushing onto the stage for the curtain call. The rumble of footsteps does not disturb you or Hyunjin from your resting place. The cheery music Chan selected plays, and Jeongin turns the lights back on, revealing a crowd of people around you and Hyunjin, still lying on the floor.

Minho rolls his eyes and kicks at his friend with his foot, saying out loud, “Romeo! It’s me, Mercutio. You’re in heaven now.”

Everyone laughs, thinking it’s an elaborate joke they planned. Even in the comms, Mr. Gi asks, “Did you guys know they were going to do this?”

There’s a resounding chorus of “No.”

“Juliet, why don’t you kiss him awake?” Minho suggests when Hyunjin doesn’t move. Jisung is impressed by his improv skills.

Neither of you even twitch. The audience is eating it up and chanting, “Kiss him! Kiss him!” A few of the actors join in with Yuna being the loudest.

Yeji sighs when it becomes apparent that you aren’t going to stop. She bends down, breaking the immersion, and shakes you. “Hey, c’mon.” When you don’t move, she shakes you harder. “Y/N!”

“You too, Hyunjin,” Minho adds. He nudges him with his foot. “It’s not funny anymore.”

There’s panic in their voices, and no one knows if it’s still part of their mini sketch or not. Jisung glances at Changbin, who is also just as confused as everyone.

“Drama kids being drama kids?” he shrugs.

“I guess,” Jisung replies, hiding the sly note in his voice.

Then comes the revelation. Yeji’s stunned whisper comes over on the speakers: “She’s not breathing.”

For a second, there’s only the cheerful curtain call song. Then there’s chaos — people leaping out of their seats to leave, people too much in a state of stupor to do anything, people screaming, people rushing on stage to double-check. On the outside, he curses with Changbin and consoles Yugyeom who’s pale and looks like he’s ready to throw up. Jisung pretends to be in shock, but on the inside, he’s shouting with glee at the reaction to his handiwork. While Mr. Gi is frantically calling an ambulance, Minho quickly drops to his friend’s side and reports the same thing as Yeji: “He’s not breathing either.”

Another wave of panic hits the auditorium. Minho starts screaming at Hyunjin, begging him to wake up. Yuna has collapsed next to you, and she and Yeji are shaking you violently, pleading for you to stop whatever it is that you’re doing. Chan has the sense to turn off all the mics, so no one has to hear amplified banshee wails from everyone. At least one person faints, and Yugyeom runs to the restroom, one hand clasped around his mouth.

Jisung thinks it’s a glorious scene.

He was right though. You and Hyunjin are — sorry, were — the perfect actors for Juliet and Romeo. Like Shakespeare said:

All the world’s a stage;

And all the men and women merely players.

~ ad.gray

Thank you all for reading! I really didn’t expect the amount of attention this story received, and I hope you all enjoyed it. I know some of you were expecting a happy ending, but here on this blog, if it’s over 5k, someone’s probably going to die :P

Thank you to ad.gold who edited it all and made sure all the details were accurate! Sorry I forgot mic tape existed.

(Shameless self promo time) If you liked this story, you might like:

1000 Roses (ad.gray) - a theatre AU featuring stage manager Chan, lead actress Y/N, all fluff, and no murder; no connection to “In Fair Verona.”

Squirrel and Wife (ad.gold) - (to heal your heart) a fluffy royalty AU featuring princess Y/N and knight Jisung.

Magic Words (ad.gray) - (to heal your heart) if you want to see Hyunjin being resurrected; it’s fluff, I swear; no connection to “In Fair Verona.”

42nd Moon (ad.gold) - (if you’re a masochist and want to shatter your heart further) a werewolf and soulmate AU featuring Jisung and Hyunjin where there may be murder.

Apologies in Advances (ad.gray) - (if you liked getting your hopes up and being let down; the title is important) secret agent AU featuring Minho and Y/N who hate each other but are forced to go on a mission together.

#stray kids #skz #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #stray kids han #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids au #theatre au #high school au #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #yandere #20200923

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deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday 1

I’m posting two WIPs today because they’re both currently being absorbed into another fic and will never again see the light of day in this form! So here is the first one!

This BOTW scene, but written in a modern fantasy way is: Link saves Zelda from a Guardian with a pot lid, which is a scene from Zelda’s diary.

Goes along with this other scene that happens a little later with this same Link and Zelda where Link gets assigned to guard Zelda personally.

~~~

“Hrmmm,” Robbie hummed to himself as he looked through Zelda’s notes. “This is interesting, I’ll admit that. But the way I read it, it’s too flawed. Tell me more. Let’s think this through.”

Robbie was the lead researcher on Project Guardian. His posture was perhaps the most telling part of his personality; his hands were always on his hips, straight backed, almost like a superhero. When others would cross their arms to think, Robbie would go straight into his superhero pose and hum loudly to himself.

His goggles held his white hair back from his face. The goggles were a staple of every one of his outfits. He worked more with the large machinery, building prototype after prototype until he was forced onto a break by anyone higher than him, or Purah, who technically matched his position.

Both were young, doctorates before they were even out of their twenties and neither yet nearing thirty. Both Sheikah, ensuring that the artifacts were treated with the respect and reverence that their culture demanded. Both the brightest minds in all of Hyrule.

Zelda felt intimidated near them, but she was learning from the best. So when the Robbie asks you to tell him more, one tells him more.

“Okay, my idea is that we come up with some kind of injectable serum that we place markers in. When the Guardians go to attack the threat, but they see, say, me rather than a Yiga for example, they’ll scan for the presence of that marker and cease to fire on me. Instead, they’ll attack the real enemy.”

“Hrmmmm,” Robbie said, though he’d just read all this in her notes. “Money and funding for such a task aside, how do you propose we go about injecting nearly 30 million people?”

“Mandate it, of course.”

Robbie scoffed, forgetting for a moment that he was speaking with the Princess of Hyrule. If she wanted to mandate the injection, of course she could.

“You will have those who refuse,” he said instead. “Or those too unhealthy or who reject the serum for whatever reason. Perhaps it’s toxic to our first trial participants. Perhaps it won’t work as well on a Sheikah or a Rito as it will on a Hylian. You must also think of some other, faster, more effective ways.”

Zelda sat at the desk, resting her hand on her cheek. “I suppose it could be a type of paint. Something that goes onto a person rather than into them.”

Robbie surpressed a laugh at the Princess’ expense. “Well, perhaps someone forgets their paint? Maybe the weather will wash it off. Or someone cannot afford it. Or runs out. Perhaps the Guardians attack them, and their children. What then?”

“Fine,” Zelda hissed, getting his point but feeling frustrated. It had been such a good idea, she thought. “I don’t know. If only we could set them to auto-pilot, then we could—”

Robbie smiled, knowing where her mind was going before she even got there.

She stopped, her mouth open. “We need pilots. We need a conscious mind to control them. The large ones we excavated… those would be too wild to use without a pilot, even if we theoretically could. A pilot would negate those fears. They’d see friend from foe.”

“How many pilots can we afford to train?”

That had Zelda stop immediately. “I… I don’t know.”

Robbie didn’t expect everything from her. “I don’t think we can have each Guardian with their own pilots. We start with four, one for each of the four larger ones. We take samples, record data, and see if we can synthesize a program for an autopilot. If we can, then I think we should work on incorporating that into the smaller Guardians. Perhaps we can have a lead Guardian each time, and those would have its own pilot, and a string of others will follow?”

“See,” Purah said, looking up from her phone where she’d been taking notes in the corner of the room. “Told you she had a good idea.”

“You did indeed, Princess,” Robbie said with a winning smile. “I’ll get straight to work on it. I’ll draft a proposal and send it to your father immediately so we might be able to recruit the first pilots who will champion this project. I’ll have it in to him by tomorrow.”

“Dr. Robbie,” a researcher said, coming in with a tablet. “You asked for a briefing on the latest trial run?”

Robbie hesitated, not wanting to ignore the presence of the Princess.

But she read the room. “Don’t worry,” Zelda said, standing up. “We should be going anyway. I look forward to hearing how the proposal goes.”

“I’m sure you’ll know before me, Princess. Good night.”

“Night, Robbie.”

Purah led Zelda out from Robbie’s office, taking the route past the prototype Guardians.

Researchers were mulling around, some in lab coats, some in street clothes, all of them looked busy. And most of them had their eyes on her as she passed by.

“Next time,” Zelda muttered, “we take the quieter route.”

“Understood and agreed. Come on, let’s go to my lab. I can show you the Slate I’ve been working on.”

But they didn’t get the chance.

A deep scream rang out, crying “look out!” to anyone within earshot. Perhaps it was instinct from being in the dangerous lab often, but Purah took a flying leap forward behind one of the pillars that held up the balcony of the second floor, unsure what she was looking out for.

But Zelda didn’t have that reflex.

Instead, her head shot around, looking for the threat so she could hide in the most appropriate location. Was it a Yiga attack? Should she find something to defend herself with? Was it a chemical spill? Did she need to take heed at all if it was simply a broken glass that someone nearly stepped on.

So she didn’t see the red laser aimed in her direction, and worse, she didn’t see the blue beam of energy that followed it.

When she was knocked backwards, she was surprised to find herself on the ground at all, let alone to find someone lying on her, covering her entirely from the blast.

The white sleeve of his lab coat was smoking, burned nearly clean off and exposing singed skin beneath it, fabric melted into his flesh, and hairs on his arm gone. His hand shook, and he dropped a large piece of Sheikah tech that looked far worse than his arm, a hole burned clean through the thick piece of metal that had taken the brunt of the impact off them both, though his arm appeared to have suffered regardless.

When Zelda noticed those two things, her eyes widened, and her heart sped up. “Oh Goddess!” she breathed, her head falling backwards with a harsh thud before she remembered the man on top of her. “Are you okay?”

Her hand went to his chest to help push him up, and she felt something hard under her hand. Something hard that she knew... something like the body armor her guards used. She let her fingers move. Solid, not human flesh; definitely the armor. Her eyes darted immediately to his ear next. And above his blue earring, she saw that her suspicions were confirmed. His ear wasn’t empty, but a very familiar earpiece with a wide hidden by his disheveled hair and low ponytail that had hidden it.

He was not a scientist. He was one of her undercover guards.

“How did you get to me so fast? Where even were you?” she asked, finally understanding why some strange scientist had risked his life to reach her. But she and Purah had been alone on this side of the room. Everyone kept their distance. Everyone stayed out of reach, and he’d been there in an instant.

He stood up, off her almost as quickly as he’d dove in front of her in the first place. “Are you alright, Princess Zelda?” he asked, oozing formality and professionalism, as if he hadn’t just nearly died. He offered her his hand before wincing and retracting it, offering her his other, non-singed one. As if nothing had happened. As if she’d simply tripped.

Now, she was stunned into confusion, trying to put the events in order, to relieve them and understand. She blindly accepted his hand and felt a shockwave of energy pass between them, sending a harsh shiver down her spine that had her attention immediately shift to the man who’d saved her.

He was slightly older than her, though it couldn’t be by much. She was almost surprised her father actually employed any of the younger agents to be her guards. She’d only ever really noticed the older ones. But this man was familiar somehow, though she was sure she’d never seen him in person before today. He could have been her guard in the past, expertly blending in as was his job. But she suspected something more.

His blue eyes were brilliant and captivating. Alert and on her, like he was thinking something about her rather than simply waiting for her to answer him, his eyes were straight out of a crayon box, like the lightest and purest of the blues had been picked for his eyes, one that a child would use for the daylight sky. But the color wasn’t all that was intense about them. It was in the way he looked at her, like she held the answers to the world. His gaze was that intense. It was unnerving.

“Yes,” she finally managed. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He managed a short nod and stepped backwards, allowing her to pass. Purah had grabbed onto Zelda, rambling about how she needed to get checked. But Zelda’s eyes drifted to the burned Sheikah tech on the ground. A hole had gone through the metal. His arm had been burned. And he’d gotten to her in time.

He was good, apparently. Good at his job. Too good. She’d have to be more alert to the locations of her guards.

“Was he near us?” was all Zelda could ask Purah as they headed out of the building, the other researchers proceeding to clean up the mess.

“I don’t know. Your guards are always near us. But Zelda, are you okay? That could have killed you! That was nearly the end of your life!”

Zelda chuckled nervously, rubbing at her hand, still feeling the agent’s in hers. But what she didn’t realize was that the attack from the Guardian hadn’t nearly been the end of her life, but it was the start of it.

#wip wednesday #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #botw #botw au #link #zelda #purah #robbie #writing

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peter-parkers-passport · 3 years

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Flower Child (Peter Parker x ofc)

Chapter 11: Just a Nobody

I’m really sorry I haven’t been consistent in updating on this platform, I think I’ll just mass update on here and catch up to speed? Idk, it’s a lot and again, I’m sorry. I’m trying to find inspiration to write!

warnings: Peter being rude, angst, depictions of anxiety… sorry 😬, mentions of death

The pair of them didn’t leave the greenhouse until midnight that night. Papers had been scattered around a workbench in the greenhouse under a single lamplight, covered in formulas that had been scratched and edited past legibility. Lila and Peter made an incredible team, much to their surprise, and within just a few short hours, a new webbing formula had been made.

Peter also walked her home, despite Lila reassuring him that he didn’t have to. He merely brushed off her attempts and bid her goodnight at her door. And despite the crazy events, like her almost dying, she went to bed with a smile on her face. Her crush was a superhero, how could she not?

When she went to school the next day, Lila was tired but cheerful. A light kind of air sat in her chest and put her in a good mood, even with the whispers of what happened the day before following her to her locker. She supposed the feeling of falling in an elevator made things like school more enjoyable since they were a part of living, but she attributed her happiness mostly to the two boys who walked quickly over to her locker as soon as they saw her.

“Hey, Lila,” Peter said, lips twitching in a nervous smile.

“Hey, guys, what’s-?”

“So you know?” Both Lila and Peter looked to Ned, whose expression was unreadable. “About-“ His voice lowered into a whisper, “-Peter’s sticky situation?”

A patch of red grew on the boy in question’s face, and he sent an exasperated stare his friend’s way. “Dude, come on, at least think of a better code name.”

“So you know?” Ned asked Lila again, to which she nodded apprehensively. Her eyes flickered to Peter, who offered an apologetic shrug. When she looked back to Ned again, he looked relieved. “Finally. I’ve really needed this, I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it a secret-“

“Ned,” Peter said, “You found out last week.”

“- I thought I was gonna blow it, but I didn’t. And now I can talk to you about how totally amazing this is.” Ned inhaled deeply, launching into a slew of questions. “So how did you know it was him? Are you psychic? Did you psychically connect to Peter, and that’s how he saved your life? Do you have, like, a spider-link now?”

“N-No, it wasn’t anything like that,” Lila answered him, Peter giving her a thankful look that she interrupted Ned’s questioning. She tucked her hair behind her ear before continuing, “Peter disappearing the night before, y-you having the Ch-Chitauri core, and - and the Stark Internship. Just… a lot of it d-didn’t add up.” Lila looked around them to see Michelle walk through the front doors. “Look, I’d b-better go before MJ gets suspicious but I’ll see you guys for fourth.”

Peter and Ned said their goodbyes while Lila walked down the hallway to her friend. Before she could reach MJ, however, Lila was stopped by Betty Brant, who had a fiercely determined look on her face. “Lila,” she practically addressed, her tone was so formal.

“B-Betty,” Lila swallowed, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Wh-What’s up?”

“Midtown is running a story on the survivors of the almost-tragic Washington Monument scare yesterday. I need to know that you’ll be available for lunch to answer a few questions with the rest of your team. I would do it now, but I don’t have my co-host.” The last sentence ended with a note of bitterness, and Lila tilted her head in concern.

“Oh n-no, where’s - where’s Jason?”

Betty rolled her eyes, “His mom called him out of first period for some stupid dentist appointment and wouldn’t cancel. I’ve told him time and time again that his mom doesn’t understand how brutally competitive journalism can get in the age of technology.” Her eyes narrowed at the apparently sour thought. “Like, she doesn’t even know how embarrassing it was to see Principal Morita’s fall after the floors were waxed with new wax on Flash’s Snapchat story first. That should’ve been our story, but no, Jason had strep throat.” Her tone grew mocking and she put air quotes around “strep throat”. There was a beat of silence, and then, “Anyways, so I’ll see you at lunch?”

At this point, Lila had been daydreaming of a way to get out of the heated one-sided argument. “Sure.”

Satisfied, Betty nodded. “Good. And don’t talk to anyone else about what happened.” She strode away, leaving Lila feeling slightly confused as she walked over to where MJ was standing, watching the whole interaction.

*****

It didn’t go unnoticed that Lila was becoming fast friends with Peter and Ned. Soon enough, in the span of the next two days, they popped up nearly everywhere in her daily life. For some, it was a welcome addition to Lila’s friend count (now up to three). For others, it was a topic of slight confusion.

“I’m not, like, unhappy for you or anything,” Sophie commented one evening in the flower shop. She was watching Peter and Ned leave through the front doors, the cooler air from the outside falling at their feet. “I just didn’t know you were so close.”

Lila and the boys had just brought over some chemicals they’d nicked from school, and finally perfected the stronger webbing for Peter. It was all discreetly put away in a box tucked underneath spare gardening supplies. The box in question was placed in a corner, out of sight and hopefully out of anyone else’s minds that weren’t Peter’s, Lila’s, or Ned’s.

The door had shut by the time Lila turned back to Sophie, a light blush on her cheeks. “Falling in an e-elevator is a surprisingly easy way to m-make friends.” The flicker of suspicion in Sophie’s eyes disappeared almost immediately at Lila’s reply, and for a moment, Lila had the gut-twisting sensation of guilt. It was confusing: she wasn’t actually lying to Sophie, but she was hiding the truth. Plummeting to her death with Ned by her side did craft a strong foundation of friendship at a remarkably fast rate. And being one of about four people who knew Peter’s secret identity also warranted spending more time together than what was considered normal. Only, she couldn’t tell anyone that last part.

Lila hated that her cover story for spending time around the two boys was her near-death experience, but even she couldn’t deny its effectiveness. Sophie stopped asking questions after her comment, and soon started addressing them with the same familiarity as she would Michelle or her dad.

Michelle, whose skepticism came as easy as breathing, wasn’t as easy to persuade. MJ knew Ned was in the elevator with Lila, and her interest in them hanging out didn’t extend farther than a simple statement of, “Ned needs to download the free VPNs I sent you. I don’t want my network data accidentally getting monitored by the government because he’s using the WiFi at your shop.” Which was fine with Lila, Ned would be one less thing to worry about in regards to her most perceptive friend.

However, with Ned deemed not a problem, MJ’s wariness was focused on Peter. If she thought he was sketchy before, it was nothing compared to how she felt after he started to hang out with Lila. Michelle wasn’t much for holding a conversation with people she didn’t know, but the times where she did talk to Peter, it almost always was staged as interrogation. Lila felt sorry for Peter, for she knew MJ was intimidating, and too smart for her own good. She also knew that Michelle’s intention was a heavily-veiled protectiveness for her friend.

Ted Landry seemed to be the only person in Lila’s life who wasn’t suspicious of her new friends. In fact, he was completely clueless. Peter being around Lila more was merely a correlation to him personally checking on her the night she got back from D.C. The worst part was that Ted told Lila that the reason Peter was starting to be around her so much was because he had a crush on her.

“It just seems kind of obvious,” Ted said, ignoring the choking noises Lila emitted after hearing her dad’s thoughts. He merely patted her on the back as she tried to dislodge the granola that she accidentally sent down the wrong pipe. “I practically did the same thing with your mom, we became inseparable.”

Lila wished above all that her dad’s thoughts were the truth. But the brief look in Peter’s eyes that appeared whenever Liz walked by the three of them in the school’s hallways sent those thoughts crawling on all fours to the back of her mind.

*****

Over the next few days, Lila grew privy to the information Peter was gathering over the last week as Spider-Man. It all started with the bank robbers that accidentally decimated Delmar’s bodega, which Lila learned were capable of doing so with the acquisition of illegal weapons. Weapons that happened to have access to alien technology.

Peter and Ned explained that someone was stealing alien technology and fashioning weapons to distribute on the black market. Their target was Damage Control, whose existence was to be the clean-up crew of the Avengers.

“For lack of a better term,” Peter went on, fiddling with the screwdriver in his hand. That Wednesday evening, Peter had Ned and Lila over after he had perused the streets of Queens as Spider-Man. It was then the two boys filled Lila in on their mission. “But basically this department’s been confiscating all the alien tech and Ultron mess for the past eight years. And the helicarriers in Washington? They’re still working on that stuff.”

“And this guy in the wingsuit… the birdman?” Lila asked, trying to keep up with the nearly unbelievable tale.

A spark emitting from one of Peter’s web shooters had him diving back with his screwdriver. Ned, meanwhile, took the reigns. “We’re pretty sure he’s their leader. But they’ve got this stuff nearly on lockdown. Peter figures he must’ve been doing it from the beginning.”

Lila looked back over to Peter, “Do you know who he is? O-Or any kind of clue?”

The web shooter made a clicking noise that seemed to satisfy Peter. He turned away from his desk and set his eyes back on Lila. Shaking his head, he answered, “No, I’ve got no idea. And he got away with some of the stuff that was in the Damage Control trucks. Best guess, I’ll just have to catch them when they’re out selling this stuff again.” He paused, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. And after a moment, he added as an afterthought, “You didn’t happen to catch what Puth assigned for homework, did you? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Peter, dinner’s on the table - Lila!” May poked her head inside Peter’s door. Lila whipped her head around to see her large grin, and heard Peter hastily slam his desk drawer shut to hide his web shooters. “I had no idea you were here!”

“Hi, May,” Lila smiled, a pale pink dusting her cheeks. “H-How are things?”

“Finer than wine, honey. I feel so bad, I would’ve made more food if I’d’ve known you guys were going to be here.” Her lips pursed briefly as an afterthought came to mind. “Actually, it might be better if you guys hit the road.”

Peter stared at his aunt exasperatedly, “Oh, c’mon May-“

“Uh-uh,” her expression was suddenly stern when her eyes fell on him, “If you’re going to ditch class, then you’re not going to have friends over.” She softened her gaze when she moved back over to Lila and Ned. “You guys need a ride home?”

Lila grabbed her backpack, eyeing Peter and feeling confused. Why would he ditch class? Peter’s eyes met hers before answering her with a jerk of the head to his desk, where the web shooters lay hidden.

“No,” Lila finally answered, brushing off Peter’s answer with a wave of dismay. “N-No, thanks. My neighborhood’s just f-five blocks over.”

*****

Betty Brant released her story on Thursday morning. Apparently Jason actually did have a pretty awful tooth infection, and wasn’t able to co-anchor her story until then. When Lila walked into school, the conversation, which had just begun to die down, picked right back up, and attention was back on the academic decathlon.

Everyone at Midtown pretty much knew of Lila and her inability to confidently socialize with peers, but that didn’t stop them from pointing at her while poorly concealing whispers. So she was left to navigate the crowded hallways alone, doing her best to ignore the eyes that followed her and the sounds of the news story reporting on her brush with death. One thing she did manage to catch was Jason saying, “Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, thanks to Spider-Man. Up next, the Spider mania is sweeping the school, how can you show your Spider spirit?”

And Jason wasn’t wrong. The talk of Spider-Man was re-invigorated at the school news’ story, and if they weren’t talking about the decathlon team, they were talking about Spider-Man. Some people wore shirts they bought from street vendors, and talked about how amazing he was. Flash was the biggest proponent of this, boasting about how Spider-Man made a harrowing rescue, pulling Flash out of harm’s way just in time, and giving him a fist bump right afterwards. All of which was untrue, and Charles and Abraham we’re glad to remind everyone around Flash of the fact.

Lila felt a deep sense of pride as she made her way down the stairs and past the mural. She knew Peter must’ve been at school, and hearing all of the positive thoughts everyone had on his secret identity. She could feel it in the air: pride. A sense of pride that one of New York’s own was a hero, a champion of Queens. Even Lila herself felt that pride, but for other reasons entirely.

She ran into Ned first, who was beaming at the television screen in the corner of the hall. The two of them shared a knowing smile, and the pair launched into a quiet conversation about it in the otherwise loud hallways. Ned spotted Peter ahead of the two of them, and pushed around the students in his way. He and Lila met Peter at the foot of the stairs, all three grinning from ear to ear.

“Dude, dude, dude, what is it like being famous when no one knows it’s you?” Ned asked.

Rather modestly, Peter smiled and gripped the straps of his backpack. “It’s crazy,” he whispered, looking around to make sure other people weren’t listening.

“Crazy,” Ned repeated, almost in awe. “Should we tell everyone?”

Peter still smiled, but his head tilted a little in confusion, “No.”

“Should I tell everyone?”

“No, dude, that’s not a good idea.”

Ned looked to Lila, “Lila could tell everyone.”

“I-I would not,” Lila said, briefly panicked. She felt better seeing Peter let out a breathy laugh. “Really, I w-wouldn’t do it.”

Ned sighed, his hopes dashed. “Well, come on, we’re gonna be late to class.”

Lila was prepared to bid them goodbye, since their classes were on opposite sides of the hallway, but Peter didn’t follow Ned. “I’m not going to class.”

Ned looked at Lila and looked back, apprehensive, “You're already in so much trouble for ditching the decathlon-“

“P-Peter, you can’t keep d-ditching school-“

“Would you listen? I figured it out, right?” Peter’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m going to see if my suit can go back to the deal I walked in on the night of Liz’s party and find out where those guys came from. Maybe they can lead me to the wing suit guy, and then I can catch him!”

“But we have a Spanish quiz,” Ned argued.

Peter looked at Ned with an expression that felt a little belittling. He was tired of arguing and clearly didn’t see why Ned and Lila would want him to stay in school. It was a kind of reckless determination that didn’t sit well with Lila at all. “Ned, I’m probably never going to come back here. Mr. Stark is moving the Avengers upstate. So, when I bring this guy in-“

“Dude,” All the excitement from the morning was gone from Ned. “You wanna be a high school dropout?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Peter assured him, even though that’s exactly what it sounded like.

“Ned’s right, Peter, you can’t - you can’t just skip school t-to fight crime. High school’s important-“

But Peter wasn’t listening. In fact, he started walking away. “I am so far beyond high school, right now.” And as he turned to a pair of doors that led to the exit, Principal Morita stood in his way.

“Ah, Mr. Parker,” he said, already walking back down the hallway. “Come with me, my office. Ned, Lila, get to class.”

*****

“Here, c’mon,” MJ pulled at Lila’s arm. The girls had a free period, and usually spent it in the library. Lila has fully planned on spending it pretending to do her homework when in actuality she was just going to worry about Peter.

Skipping school just wasn’t like him. Lila thought he was getting caught up in his situation. True, it was extraordinary beyond belief, and there was no way to tell how she would handle it, but she thought Peter had more grit than what he was showing. School was important, almost if not equally as important as the crime Peter fought in the afternoons.

And then there was the issue of Tony Stark, and Peter’s idea of where he stood. Peter had the mindset that he had to prove himself to Tony Stark in order to be fully accepted into a world he’d always dreamt of, but that made little sense to Lila. In her mind, Tony Stark already was accepting of Peter. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have given Peter the suit.

Those were the thoughts Lila distracted herself with in her first two periods, anyway. She’d planned on delving further into her worry during her free time next period. That is, until MJ changed their plans. “And where are we going?” Lila asked, allowing herself to be steered by her taller friend.

“I’ve been sketching the kids in detention,” she answered, ”Lila, they’re the perfect inspiration: they basically all just sit and wonder if they’re lives are going to spiral out of control. Like first, it’s detention, next it’s prison. I mean, you can’t get that kind of raw panic anywhere else.”

“I’m slightly worried you seem so excited about this,” Lila muttered, filing into the classroom where detention was being held. Coach Wilson was already perched at the desk, the TV on the stand waiting to play the Captain America tape that was at the ready. Michelle sat at the edge of the classroom, and Lila sat with her, already pulling out her homework.

She thought she got a few odd stares from the one or two kids that were further in the room, since Lila had never been in any kind of trouble in her life. Even though her presence wasn’t mandatory, she was still unsettled at the thought of being so close to a trouble she had no interest in ever being a part of. She only felt slightly better when Peter walked through the door as the bell rang. He eyed her suspiciously, and seemingly answered his own question when his gaze slid over to Michelle, who was already sketching away.

Peter looked antsy. Sitting in his seat, Lila could see the tension in his shoulders as Coach Wilson lazily went over the rules of detention from his desk chair. He proceeded to play the clip of Captain America lecturing the kids in detention, but Lila could tell Peter wasn’t taking in a word of it. She was considering shooting him a text when suddenly he shot up and grabbed his backpack. He marched out of the room without another word.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lila made the decision to go after him. She told Michelle she’d be right back and hurried after her friend. When she caught up to him, he’d reached the row of lockers where he hid things and lifted it one-handed. Despite her worry, Lila watched him in awe, having to take a second to adjust to the fact that he did actually have super strength.

When the moment ended, her sense caught up to her. “Peter!” She called out, jogging the rest of the way up to him. He turned, impatience dotting across his features. “You can’t go.”

“Lila, I don’t have time-“

“But you do,” She insisted. “Y-You do have time. You can’t just - just leave.”

“Yes, I can,” Peter actually rolled his eyes. It stung Lila more than she thought it would. “Look, you don’t understand, I’ve gotta do this for Mr. Stark. Now, I’ve really gotta go.”

He tried to turn away, but in a bold move, Lila grabbed his arm, “T-Tony Stark is a c-certified genius, and even he stayed in school. Why can’t you?”

“Because when the Avengers move upstate, I’ve gotta be there. The best school I could have would be by learning from him. Who knows, maybe - maybe I’ll get a tutor or something-“

“P-Peter, you’re chasing a-approval from someone who already gave it to you. I mean - look at what y-you’ve already done. The whole school’s b-been talking about it for the entire w-week.”

“Lila,” irritation at still being in school was what made Peter grow short. Lila flinched at the tone. “You don’t get it. I can do so much more if he could just see it, that’s why I’ve gotta go.”

“You do so much, Peter. You - you saved my life twice-“

Peter snapped, “Lila, stop. I’ve made up my mind. I can’t just be Peter Parker anymore, you know? I finally have a chance to prove that I’m so much more than just a nobody now. Because while that might be fine for you, it’s not for me.” The words left his mouth harsh and bitter before his mind could even keep up. Peter didn’t even realize what he’d said until he watched Lila take a step back.

White hot anger burned her skin and flushed her face. Hurt came quickly after, and Lila blinked furiously to stop the tears from rushing to the surface. She released a short breath and made eye contact with Peter. He felt bad, she could tell, but he didn’t offer any kind of apology.

So much for being friends.

“You w-wonder what that life is like, Peter? Being an - an Avenger?” Her voice was quiet, more quiet than normal, but the emotion seemed to amplify it down the empty hallways. “I’ll t-tell you. It’s staring d-down at people who are dead for the sole r-reason that pure evil just likes it that way. It’s being unable to s-save the people you love most, and l-living with that when all is said and - and done.”

“Lila, I-“

She angrily brushed the lone tear away that managed to escape. “You wanna hear wh-what I think? I think that if - if Tony Stark wanted you to b-be like him, he would’ve given you an I-Iron Man suit. Instead he gave you the Spider-Man suit. But what do I know, r-right? I’m just a nobody.” She gave Peter, the boy who broke her heart, one last look. “Good luck out there.”

And she turned around, walking away from Peter Parker with a few tears falling down her face.

#peter parker #spider-man #tom holland #mcu x ofc #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #spiderman x ofc #spiderman homecoming #spiderman #peter parker x ofc #marvel

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djchika · 4 years

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Alex Appreciation Week Day 5: wanna go for a ride (smut/fluff) | music

(aka a snipper from what appears to be a Pretty Woman AU)

When Alex left Roswell for the last time, he’d prepared for a life destitute. Possibly a hand to mouth existence, but one that wasn’t bound by his dad’s rules. Surrounded by found family and good friends.

What happened was the opposite. Bank was all Alex had. No one he called family, barely any friends. Just a shit load of money from a dead father who forgot to remove his estranged son from his will.

Funny how life worked out.

Manes security was the crown of the Manes empire. It had been built on his father’s unwavering, paranoid insistence that the human race needed to defend themselves. Against what exactly? Alex was never sure. No one else knew either, but they still bought into the belief.

The company started with simple security solutions that branched out to tech which led to multibillion-dollar government contracts. His brothers were all happily ensconced in the family business while Alex had jumped ship the moment he could.

Or so he thought.

“What the fuck do you mean he left it to me?”

“Technically he left it to his sons, but Flint signed away everything to do with the company when he started his own business, Gregory insists he’s retired, and after his breakdown Clay gave Gregory special power attorney and Gregory’s saying Clay doesn’t want it either.”

“Well, I don’t want it! Jim, are you hearing yourself? I can’t take over my father’s company.”

“Your father had the entire board of trustees under his thumb and he kept a lot of secrets. Without one of you to figure things out they’re going to strip it for parts and sell to the highest bidder. You might not care for your father’s legacy, but the Manes Group cuts a hundred thousand paychecks across several businesses. That’s a lot of jobs on the line.”

Fuck.

That had been five years ago. Five long fucking years of going from a quiet life running a small music shop near the home town to living full time in New York city.

Nothing about his new life vaguely resembled his life in Roswell.

Well, except for Kyle Valenti.

“It’s two in the fucking morning. Go home,” Kyle ordered from where he was leaning against Alex’s office door.

“Should I even point out how hypocritical that is considering you’re here too?”

“That’s because you’re a slave driver.”

Kyle was lying through his stupid perfect teeth. Alex worked hard to make sure they were one of the best employers in the country thankyouverymuch.

Besides, Kyle wasn’t even technically his employee. Their firm, Valenti, Valenti and Son had been the company’s firm even before Alex took over.

“I’m going home after this. Leave me alone.”

“As your legal counsel I highly recommend sleep before signing any of those.” Kyle said, nodding at the stack of papers on Alex’s desk. “I’ll be back Wednesday. I already had Jill pencil me in to your afternoon so we can start discussion on the Long deal.”

Alex clicked opened his calendar. “My Monday’s surprisingly free we can do it then.”

Kyle walked over to Alex’s desk, leaning down just so he could point at Alex’s laptop monitor obnoxiously. “That’s because Monday is the day before Christmas Eve and you declared it a company holiday.”

“Right,” Alex said, pushing Kyle away. “See you Wednesday, then.”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want to go home with you for Christmas. Yes, I will be fine spending Christmas by myself. Asking me a dozen times isn’t going to change my answer.”

Alex appreciated Kyle’s concern, but going back home provided complications he didn’t want to deal with at the moment.

With a sigh, Kyle straightened and started towards the door. “Fine. I’ll see you in four days. You also have four days to get me the present you forgot to buy me so you won’t feel bad that I already left your present at your place.”

Presents. Shit. He remembered signing off a list from Jill, but Kyle always insisted that didn’t count. Maybe he could get him something online.

Seeming to read his mind, Kyle turned and pointed a finger at him. “You better make an effort of going to a store for me, jerk.”

That was how Alex ended up asking the driver to see if there was a shop anywhere that was still open.

That was also how Alex literally fell into Michael Guerin.

“You looking for something? Wanna go for a ride?”

The familiar low drawl had Alex’s heart beating wildly in his chest. He turned quickly, misjudged his center of gravity and only avoided a complete pratfall because Michael’s arms were suddenly around him keeping him steady.

The shock he was feeling was clearly mirrored in Michael’s face.

“Alex?”

The last time he’d seen Guerin was the last of summer after high school. He was being shipped off to West Point, while Michael was supposed to be on going to UNM on a scholarship.

They’d been friends in the way that two queer kids in a small dessert town naturally gravitated towards each other. Something had bubbled beneath the surface but they’d left it to simmer. Neither wanting to risk the tentative solace they found in each other.

A long series of almosts that never culminated to anything.

Alex had graduated, gone on a couple of tours, got blown up and opted for an honorable discharge.

Michael had apparently graduated, found out working with any sort of system didn’t fit him, and chose to travel the country in his truck, picking up odd jobs where he could.

When he meant pick up. He meant pick up.

Michael gave a low whistle when they entered Alex’s apartment. It was disproportionally huge for someone living alone, but it had come with the inheritance and he’d never gotten around to looking for a new place.

"Always knew you were loaded. I didn’t think you were ‘bring out the guillotines’ rich.”

“I’m not. Or I wasn’t. This was all my dad’s. I’m always afraid I’m going to find a room I didn’t know existed and find out someone’s been living there the whole time,” Alex admitted.

Michael smirked as he made himself comfortable on the leather couch. “Still not a fan of horror movies?”

“I learn from them. There’s a difference,” Alex corrected as he slipped off his tie, coat and shoes already discarded. “Drink?”

“Yeah, why not.”

Alex poured them each a glass, watching as Michael surreptitiously took in the rest of the room. He wondered what Michael assumed of him based on it. He’d never gotten around to looking for a new place and he’d definitely never gotten around to redecorating. Nothing outside of the bedroom was his aside from the baby grand he’d gotten himself as a gift a couple of years ago.

“I see your horror movie education never taught you not to let strangers into your home,” Michael said when Alex handed him a glass of whisky, neat.

“You’ve always been strange. Hardly a stranger.”

He sat down next to Michael, taking a long drink from his glass as Michael did the same. The liquid flowed smoothly down his throat, warming his body quickly. It also served to quiet the butterflies that were fluttering oddly in his chest.

“You never know what’s going on in people’s heads.” Michael smirked, eyes roving over Alex’s body.

Back in high school, with his bad boy reputation, the almost trademark smirk had been charming and innocently dangerous. Now, the slow smirk was backed with a confidence in his sexuality that was outright devastating.

Or it would have been if Alex didn’t see right through him.

“Are the lines part of the package?”

“Depends, is it working for you?

Alex raised an eyebrow before downing the rest of his drink. Michael seemed to take that as an invitation, moving both their glasses to the coffee table before straddling Alex smoothly.

It was his teenage fantasy come true. Michael was different, the cut of his jaw sharper, a dark beard where there used to be smooth skin, but the warmth of his eyes was still the same. The pull that tugged at Alex’s chest just as strong.

“Do you have rules against kissing?”

Michael shook his head with a laugh. “That’s not a thing.”

The kiss Michael gave Alex was surprisingly soft. A tentative press of lips on lips that belied Michael’s previous confidence. Alex tongue darted out, licking against the seam of Michael’s lips until they opened up for him. He tasted like whisky, like the first burst of summer rain.

It barely lasted a minute before Michael pulled back a little, eyes searching Alex’s as if to make sure he was okay.

Unwilling to examine the sudden knot behind his ribcage at that look, Alex surged against him kissing Michael slow and deep until they were both gasping for air.

“Sure this is a good idea?” Michael asked breathily even as his hands roamed, touching Alex’s chest, his neck, his hair.

“Nothing but a business deal, right?”

“Hmmm,” Michael’s hands moved to the buttons of Alex’s shirt, undoing them one by one. “Preferences? Hard nos?” He leaned in, sucking kisses into Alex’s jaw and down his neck.

Alex groaned when Michael’s mouth latched on to his pulse point, sucking gently. He could feel himself getting harder, Michael’s own erection pressed up again him. The sweet friction was making it hard to concentrate on what Michael was saying.

“You’re not going to make me sign a release are you?” he managed to ask finally. For all he knew there might be paperwork involved. He’d never actually slept with a hooker before.

The laugh that rumbled out of Michael’s chest, drew a smile on Alex’s face. “No, but it’s gonna cost depending on what you want.”’

“Consider me your booking for the night then double it.”

He didn’t even care what that amount was. Michael was worth it. Using his father’s money to pay for him was just a fuck you cherry on top.

Michael smiled, slow and filthy. “Works for me.”

(to be continued....)

#malex #michael guerin #alex manes #alexweek2020 #roswell nm #deej writes #deej writes fic #tv: rnm

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kiranxrys · 3 years

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You have been chosen! Use this ask as a free pass to rant about literally anything, regardless of whether or not someone asked your opinion! In fact, take this as someone asking your opinion! (this Free Rant card does not expire, use whenever you want)

this is a lot of fun, thank you. to be honest i’m just going to take this opportunity to rant about myself so consider this life updates with dylan plus a lot of opinions because i’m full of those. (spoiler alert: topics for this rant ended up including school, downton abbey and general rambling).

honestly until today i was considering this week to be one of those ‘wow this is the worst week of my life’ kind of weeks because it kind of went like, monday: cried in history class, tuesday: alright, wednesday: left school sobbing after exhausting and disastrous english assessment, thursday: woke up to find my computer broken (dented, hinges bent, busted screen) and none of my work done. really by that point i wasn’t even crying i was just like yeah this may as well happen you know. i came home from dropping my computer off at my school tech centre, sat down on the living room floor and proceeded to watch the entire season 5 of downton abbey while i stared miserably at the blank exercise book in front of me.

downton abbey. that’s something. has anyone else seen this show?? for those who don’t know it’s a kind of british propaganda high-budget fast food period drama about early 20th century landed gentry and how the old order is all well and good and gay people are alright but they do have to suffer a bit to make up for it. or that’s one way of putting it, at least. this article is great, if you’ve got the time to read it. anyway i first watched downton abbey at a very impressionable age and it has stuck with me ever since even though i could rant for ten times longer about all its problems than the things i like about it. because really, it’s a masterclass in tv writing messiness and weird propaganda. and yet i still know every plot point off by heart somehow.

probably the main reason i’m still attached to downton abbey (aside from it being just a familiar thing to have on the tv and not care too much about) is to do with thomas, whose defining characteristics (at least at the beginning of the show) can mostly be boiled down to evil and gay. i’m inclined to love thomas because no one else does (for sometimes fair reasons, like i said - evil) and because i think he’s by far one of the more complex characters in the show (who also doesn’t just randomly develop backwards once we hit season 6).

anyway, at the moment downton abbey is one of the few salvations in my school-stricken life. i’m sure to a lot of you at uni/college or working probably think i sound a bit mad sobbing over year 12 (senior year?? sixth form?? you sort it out) but really it is horrific. it’s only been going for 5 weeks and it’s horrific. i’ve got a mountain of work to do that i really don’t feel like doing. but i feel like i’ve lost the point here, this was supposed to be about my week from hell and how it suddenly became... not that.

today was friday and weirdly enough, it has been a really lucky day for me. i got my computer back completely fixed and nothing to pay, i only had to attend two classes in the morning and have since spent my afternoon snacking on strawberries and chocolate-covered digestives. plus i don’t even really have to think about schoolwork, because it’s a long weekend and i’m surrreeee that will be plenty of time to get it all done.

a few notes vis a vis this blog - i am desperate to write fic again, but at the moment i simply haven’t the time and have several other projects i need to finish first besides. i’m going to be absolutely tied down with work and other nonsense for the rest of march but i’ll keep my queue running here as ever, plus maybe the occasional gifset whenever i get the chance.

if you read all of this... i appreciate it? but also what are you doing with your life. but also i love you and i hope you’re well! please take care of yourself. it’ll all work out, i promise :)

#ask #anonymouus

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timeagainreviews · 4 years

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Vengence on Gallifrey

Welcome back, friends. We’re meeting up sooner than we usually do! I could get used to the idea of a new episode every Wednesday and Sunday. Wouldn’t that be swanky? In the time since part one of "Spyfall," there has been a lot of speculation and theories about what would be in store for part two. How many of your fan predictions came true? I know a couple of mine did. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Before part two aired, I revisited part one. I was curious to review O’s storyline in light of the big reveal. Would I notice any nods or giveaways to his being the Master a second time around? The answer is basically, no. Other than the Master’s reaction of "ridiculous," to the inside of the TARDIS, there’s not much telegraphing to be had. I did, however, notice some things that seem head-slappingly stupid upon a second viewing.

My pal Steve compared the episode to "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker," in that it moves so fast that you don’t have enough time to realise how stupid it actually is. One of those things I noticed the second time around was the big glass box in the middle of O’s home. My mind had kind of glazed over by that point that I never questioned how stupid it was that he would have a spring-loaded glass box in his ceiling. Now, I’m only human, but the Doctor isn’t. Why didn’t that seem weird to her that he would have a trap hanging from the ceiling? It made me think of Troll 2 when the dad walks over and grabs a fire extinguisher conveniently propped against the house. Why was it there? Because the plot demanded it.

Despite this, there is one thing I feel deserves saying. As much as I liked "Kerblam!" "The Witchfinders," or "It Takes You Away," I haven’t watched any of them since they first aired. I haven’t watched any of season 11 since my initial viewing. Regardless of any plotholes I found, I wanted to rewatch Spyfall. And I think that goes to show that despite various failings on Chris Chibnall’s behalf, he’s got me watching the show again! What then is different?

My first response would be that the stakes are higher this time around. A lot of that has to do with the fact that the Master is back. Regardless of how overused he may or may not be in the new series, their relationship has gravity. As an agent of chaos, the Master ups the tension as we have a history with him. Like with the Dalek in "Resolution," he lends a familiar element that this new era deeply needed. In these past few days, I was truly worried about how our friends were going to get out of this mess. I haven’t felt that way about Doctor Who in a long time.

When we last saw our heroes, the Doctor had been transported to the brain realm and the companions were about to crash on a plane. Through a bit of time travel, the Doctor saves the day via phone app, thus continuing the trend of the Doctor messing with Ryan’s phone. At least the dude got to keep his data this time. I found the whole sequence with the Doctor making plaques and laminating belaboured the point a bit, but it was cute.

We learn that the Doctor is walking around in some sort of synaptic realm. She meets Ada Lovelace who seems to think it's her own mind, but that was her best guess. I would complain that it was a weird design if it was a mind, but then I remember "The Invisible Enemy," and realise how much worse it could have looked! According to Ada, she’s been visiting this place since she was a wee bairn. She seems rather cool about the whole thing but is perplexed to see the Doctor.

The two flash into Ada’s timeline of 1834, where the Doctor has found herself at a steampunk convention. I found some of the steam-powered devices like the grenade to be a bit moronic. It was so unbelievable that my initial reaction was that she was in some sort of alternate history. But no, it’s just goofy. The Master discovers the Doctor survived and goes to finish the job. Before the episode, I was thinking "I hope they show the inside of his TARDIS." Turns out they already had. I guess it’s the same size on the inside. I had kind of expected it to be like Clara and Me’s TARDIS in that the diner was just part of the facade with the real bit hidden away. But no, his console is right there in the main room. Weird. Also, remember when chameleon circuits used to make TARDISes look inconspicuous? The biggest thing we ever saw it do was when the Master’s TARDIS became a truck. The coolest camouflage still goes to my man Professor Chronotis’ TARDIS in Shada. It was just a door along a wall. How cool is that? Not complaining, merely lamenting the loss of simplicity.

From within the Master’s TARDIS we see Barton confront the Master. The conversation between these two really only serves to show Barton as alive, and establish the power structure which is that the Master is in charge, which we already knew. It also establishes the existence of a sculpture that looks like something a third-year art student might have half-assed while hungover. Barton goes to intercept the companions, while the Master takes care of the Doctor. He makes a grand entrance with his tissue compression device doling out murder without reason. Did anyone else wonder why the device seemed not only to shrink people but also to turn them stiff like plastic or wood? I suppose compacting material like that could increase rigidity, but it was an odd choice.

To get the Master to stop killing people, the Doctor placates his ego by getting on her knees and calling him Master. It was, for lack of a better word- hot. Ada shoots the Master with a steam-powered gun and they get away. This was more of Chibnall’s weird relationship with guns. The Doctor says to Ada that she doesn’t approve, but the second Ada uses a grenade the Doctor is like "Hell yeah, this is my bad bitch Ada! Represent!" It’s like in "The Ghost Monument," when she hated the use of guns against a group of emotionless robots and then used a bomb to take out the same group of emotionless robots. It’s almost as though it’s not the killing the Doctor hates, it’s the inefficiency of the whole thing. "Mate, use bombs, way more effective!" Okay, Chris.

In the last five minutes of part one, I wasn’t sure if Sacha Dhawan was going to be a good Master or not. I was worried he was going to be too flamboyant, but the second he hits the screen in part two, it’s as though he had always been in the role. I really love him and Jodie Whittaker’s chemistry. It’s great to see her Doctor faced with someone truly evil, and I feel as though it’s given her a lot to work with. Watching the two of them verbally spar is nothing short of delightful.

Barton comes up empty-handed in his search for the companions, which is no sweat off his back as he is Mr Tech Empire. After a little bit of finagling with the internet, their faces are soon posted everywhere as wanted criminals. Exactly like in "The Sound of Drums," they’re going to have to go off the grid. They even take refuge in a construction site! Doing so gives them a bit of downtime to talk and regroup. In a moment of clarity, it dons on them that they don’t really know the Doctor all that well. They decide that after all is said and done, they’re going to have a talk with the Doctor. Like many people, I was hoping that they would visit this concept, as series eleven made them seem a little too keen. It was a welcome bit of character development.

Another thing I love about this scene is that Graham isn’t annoying in it. "But Natalie," you say, "I thought you loved Graham!" And you would be right, I do love Graham. But I feel like it’s worth pointing out that they didn’t ruin him. Usually with a lot of shows and movies, if something is good or popular with fans, the tendency is to overdo it. This is the same lovable dude from the previous series and I feel that should be acknowledged. One of the things I really admire about Chris Chibnall is that he really seems to know his own character’s voices. One of my biggest issues with Clara Oswald is that her personality was all over the board. We don’t get that here.

Having travelled with the Doctor for a while now, the companions decide to carry on like she would have them do. They still have their spy gear and like exploding cufflinks and Graham’s laser shoes, and their timing couldn’t have been more perfect as the baddies from part one show up. Sadly, they’re not the Voord as me and many others had hoped. They’re a species known as the Kasaavin. It’s a name that’s about as inspired as Ranskoor Av Kolos, and that is not a compliment. It’s simply a very forgettable name. I dunno what it is, but I really hate the way Chris Chibnall names stuff. He’s willing to do groan-inducing puns like "Arachnids in the UK," or "Dinosaurs on a Spaceship," but then decides to reign it in with "Resolution," despite the naming convention established in previous Dalek stories like "Revelation of the Daleks," or "Remembrance of the Daleks." Though I suppose in his defence, "Resolution," is about a singular Dalek. Either way, Graham’s laser shoes save the day. It’s ridiculous, but unlike the Master, it is a compliment when I say it.

The Doctor has now regrouped with Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage. After a bit of fangirling on her part, she goes into Doctor brain mode. She pieces together that the multiple maps of the earth are, like I had guessed, different points in time. The aliens are spying on important people throughout time, for some reason that still makes zero sense to me. Why would they care about the Earth’s technology? Wouldn’t their computers completely best our technology? What threat could humans pose to them? I thought their sights were set on taking over the universe, but now it appears their sites are set on one planet’s technology. I guess you’ve got to start somewhere.

The Doctor surmises that the Kasaavin must have difficulty keeping their form in our universe, thus a need for a machine that keeps them stable. This, of course, is the bad art student sculpture we saw in the Master’s TARDIS which has now found its way into Charles Babbage’s study. This must have been too close to the truth as at this moment a Kasaavin shows up. The Doctor uses this as an opportunity to hitch a ride off of the Kasaavin’s energy surge in hopes to end up back in the present day. As she does, Ada grabs her hand and is transported as well. Instead of 2020, they end up in the year 1943 during a Nazi blitz on Paris. Literally, the first person they encounter is another historical figure- Noor Inayat Khan. That’s gotta be some kind of record for the show- three historical figures in one episode.

After establishing that they aren’t Nazis, the Doctor and Ada hide in the safety of Noor’s home. However, it is then that the Master shows up in full Nazi regalia and orders a team of Nazi soldiers to fire into the floor and leaves. I, like many of you, was immediately confused. The Nazis weren’t known to ally themselves with people of the Master’s current complexion. However, we learn that by using a series of perception filters, the Master has disguised himself as white, which makes sense in relation to the show. We discover the Doctor and Ada narrowly averted death as they were, in fact, hiding in the floor.

On the other end of things, Graham, Ryan, and Yaz use being under surveillance to draw Barton’s people into a trap. Using Graham’s laser shoes, they steal a vehicle and head to stop Barton. Speaking of Barton, we’re treated to a deliciously dark scene between him and his mother. It was pretty obvious that the woman strapped to a chair in his bad guy lair had to be his mother, but that didn’t make it any less funny. This guy is such a piece of work that not even his mother likes him. He tells her that she is to be the first person to be subjected to his grand scheme. After being taken over by blue electricity, she appears to die. What a dick.

Back in Paris, the Doctor realises Noor is a British spy. Using her telegraph, the Doctor baits the Master by tapping out four beats- the heartbeat of a Time Lord. Unable to resist, the Master taps four beats in response to the Doctor. What happened next was one of the coolest things I’ve seen on Doctor Who in a while. The Doctor and the Master make contact telepathically, something of which hasn’t been seen in the show for years. I quite literally threw my hands up into the air with joy. Kudos to Chris Chibnall for giving me the nerd feels.

The Doctor and the Master meet up atop the Eifel Tower where they have a rather intimate conversation. We find out it was the Master who killed C in the previous episode. So yes, they did waste Stephen Fry, which officially makes me a disappoint. The Doctor deduces that the Master isn’t actually in control of the Kasaavin. Instead, the Master has merely allied himself with them, claiming to have given them a broader scope of vision. I’m not exactly sure how going from wanting to take over the universe to taking over a small planet is a broadening in scope, but stop asking questions and watch the show.

Now, remember how I just gave kudos to Chris Chibnall? Well, I am going to have to take those back. In an attempt to delay the Master, the Doctor gives him away to the Nazis. She makes them think he is a British spy and directs them to their location. However, not only does she do this, but she also disables his perception filters. So effectively, the Doctor, a white woman, gives up a brown man to the Nazis. It wasn’t enough to make them think he’s a spy, they had to also see that he had brown skin. I was honestly a bit disgusted by this. How would they even recognise him as the same guy they were told was a spy? They’re going to arrive and find a person of colour in a Nazi uniform and not know who he was. Jesus Christ, Chibnall.

The Doctor uses the Master’s TARDIS to get back to the present time, just in time to find Barton unrolling his big plan. He goes on a long speech about how we give all of our information to corporations and how we should watch who we allow to pry into our privacy. It’s the social media equivalent of "Don’t blink." It’s a very effective bit of writing on par with one of Steven Moffat’s better speeches. It’s a shame it was preceded by the Doctor selling the Master out to Nazis.

So what’s the big plan? Well, remember the spy woman in part one whose DNA had been rewritten? And remember how Barton was only 93% human? It turns out that the Kasaavin plan to rewrite the DNA of the human race and turn us into hard drives by storing information within our DNA. They do so by using our smartphones and tablets against us. In the same arc of blue electricity as Mother Barton, people all over the world begin to be assimilated. During this entire press conference scene, I’m not sure if any of the actors in the audience were given proper direction as they have the most benign faces throughout most of this. Barton, whose speech went from zero to megalomaniacal in the first few seconds, should have sent up red flags across the room, but instead, they were as serene as cows. It was bizarre.

That was it, that was the big plan. Turn people into hard drives. I think? I had to ask a few of my friends what they thought it was supposed to be because I was worried I had missed something. Were they trying to take over the bodies of humans so they could have corporeal form? If so, then why say they wanted to store data in our DNA? Why do they need so much data storage anyway? Have they got a huge stash of hentai in their universe? Were they torrenting all of Doctor Who? Seriously, I do not understand their motivation or their methods. But honestly, I hardly care, because the real star of the show is the Master.

Having waited 77 years, the Master shows up just in time to be kind of late to the show. Like, he didn’t even buy a gun in that time. I do however look forward to the Big Finish audios pertaining to that era of his life. However, in the meantime, the Doctor took it upon herself to put a bug in the Kasaavin’s system which negates their mission and reverses the conversion. She informs the Kasaavin that the Master had planned to double-cross them. As they depart from our universe, they take the Master with them, but not before he mentions to the Doctor that Gallifrey was destroyed.

After getting Ada and Noor to their respective timelines, the Doctor goes to see Gallifrey for herself. Sure enough, the once-great Time Lord society has been raised to the ground. It’s a powerful bit of acting on Jodie Whittaker’s behalf. Devastated, the Doctor returns to the TARDIS only to be greeted by a hologram of the Master telling her it was him that did it, as a sort of act of punishment or vengeance. This is a much needed source of motivation for the Master’s current rage, considering how much of a departure it is from Missy’s redemption arc. Remember the timeless child storyline I’ve been dreading? Well, I’m genuinely surprised to be sitting here today to tell you that it has piqued my interest. Having something to do with the founders of Time Lord society, Rassilon and Omega, the implication is that their legend is based upon a lie, thus the Master’s final warning to the Doctor at the end of part one.

So who is the timeless child? Well, I am relieved to say I don’t think it’s the Doctor. My wildest guess is that she was some sort of person that didn’t experience time like the rest of us and was killed to harness that power. Think Rusty Venture powering his dream machine with the heart of an orphan. Like I said, my wildest guess. The biggest takeaway from all of this is that I’m sitting here speculating about Doctor Who. With Moffat’s plotlines oftentimes leading nowhere interesting, I had grown wary of speculation. Why wonder what was next when it was most likely something disappointing? It’s nice to feel intrigued by Doctor Who again.

Upon returning to her fam, the Doctor is distant and quiet. The companions can tell something is up, but as they decided earlier, they needed to have a talk with the Doctor. The Doctor concedes and tells them the basics- she’s a Time Lord, she’s from Gallifrey, she can regenerate her body, the Master was her friend. This bit of truth on her behalf seems to please the trio as they don’t press the issue further. The Doctor throws the TARDIS into gear and we’re left lingering on her face for a moment before the episode ends.

Afterwards, my wife and boyfriend and I sat in silence. As the biggest Whovian in the house, I think they were waiting for my reaction. And in some ways, I think I was too. I really enjoyed the episode, I did. But I had my issues, which I’ve listed extensively above. My main qualms at that time were of structure. Much like the first episode, this one was clunky. The pacing was definitely better than last time, but still had issues. But otherwise, I needed to think about what I had just seen. I liked the anti-fascism angle, save for the Doctor selling out the Master to the Nazis. And there were a lot of great callbacks to classic Who. My wife had checked out at the DNA storage bit because she’s a giant nerd and was feeling nitpicky about the science in a science fiction show. But it was Duncan whose comments I think were the most on point. He told me that he, as a casual viewer, was lost throughout much of the episode. For him, a little bit of explanation peppered throughout the episode would have gone a long way.

One of the most persistent flaws in classic Doctor Who is that oftentimes they would explain what was happening within the final episode of a story, leaving you in the dark for the first few episodes. In the same way, Spyfall had left him feeling lost. I even said it recently that I am not the kind of fan Doctor Who needs to please. I will watch the show regardless of its quality. If someone as fanatical as myself was feeling confused, imagine how my boyfriend felt. It is, as he said, why people start tuning out. The show is on course to what may possibly be one of it’s best seasons in years. I’m hoping that the next few episodes give us a bit of breathing room before throwing us back into the deep end.

#doctor who #Jodie Whittaker #Thirteenth Doctor #Sacha Dhawan #The Master #Graham O'Brien #Ryan Sinclair #yasmine khan #yaz #spyfall #gallifrey #ada lovelace #noor inyat khan #charles babbage #kasaavin #Time and Time Again

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cornfedcryptid-archive · 4 years

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WIP Wednesday

I got tagged by @ranawaytothedas...and for once I actually have something to share. Shocking, I know! lol

Imma gonna tag @bakedsweetroll, @dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd, @lesbianeliksni, and @ironbullsmissingeye, @elveny, and @roseategales.

It’s two things I’ve been working on off an on the past few weeks (neither of which have been edited/there’s bits that still need added). Both of which require me deep diving into lore...the problem is there’s very little on Mithrax! Why do you do this to me Bungo!?

Begin Again-a time travel AU I have with Raven and Solas

“Can you do it?”

“If it was all of you, yes. But what you’re asking is something entirely different. You’re asking me to rip you from your body and send it back to the you in the past. There’s no guarantee that it will work.” Dorian paced the length of Josephine’s old office in Haven. But it had been years since the ambassador had sat in the chair. Neither could remember the last time they had seen any of the others from the Inquisition.

The years following the Exalted Council had not been kind to Raven or Dorian. Years of thwarting Solas at every turn took everything they and what few allies still survived had. They all knew the end was drawing near and if they didn’t act fast, southern Thedas would fall.

Dorian stopped his pacing and turned to Raven. He studied his oldest and closest friend for several moments. She looked more rundown and haggard than when they had last seen each other four months prior. New scars, not from Raven’s blade, peppered her body telling more than their conversations did. The topic of her missing eye was avoided on pain of death. They were losing and Dorian knew Raven would go to even more drastic measures if needed, some of which would be worse than what Solas had done.

But not even Solas could have foreseen what would happen with the Veil fell. Her memories of Redcliffe paled in comparison to the atrocities that now spread across the land. The Evanuris were free and roamed the lands like a plague. Whatever plan Solas had had failed. It had been weeks since she had seen him on the edges of her dreams, and she feared the worst.

“There’s a small moment, when you’re harvesting a person when you feel their soul almost literally in your hands. All you would need to do is cast your spell right at that moment. We know where my body and Solas were at that time. It’s the only chance we have Dorian.”

2. Zero Hour-Just the start of something I’ve been wanting to do with Mithrax and a certain someone that hasn’t been seen in a while. *wink* *wonk*

“Something was pinging my scanners the last time I was on Titan, and I found this. Do you have any idea what it is?” Arete tossed a vaguely familiar device to Z-9, who caught it with his free hand.

“It’s a fallen transponder.” The exo studied the device, memories of this technology slowly coming back to the surface. “There’s an encrypted message on here.”

“Can you solve it?”

“I can. By why does it matter?”

“It was in the area where I met that captain who gave me the methane reactor. I had locked the door behind me and there were hive all over the place. It wouldn’t have been easy to regain access to that room. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I found it.”

“You and your hunches,” Z chuckled. He turned his attention back to the transponder, his own curiosity fueling his actions more than her request.

“When have I ever been wrong?”

“I know. I’m just giving you shit. Someone has to keep you humble, don’t want your notoriety going to your head.”

“If anyone has let my notoriety go to their head it’s you,” she snorted.

“Not everyone has the pleasure of being in the Pussycat Dolls. We’ve saved the Last City and galaxy how many times?” A ding from the device drew both of their attention to the screen. “It seems your hunch was right again. There’s definitely something important on here but it’s requiring six access nodes…whoever left this must have wanted you or someone to find it.”

“Why?”

“The clues point to areas we’ve patrolled that have known fallen activity.”

“I don’t understand the need for a scavenger hunt that sends us all over the galaxy.”

Three days later, Z and Ari found themselves at the ruins of the old tower. None had been back to the tower since the Red War. Repairs to the guardians’ home was nowhere near to being underway, the main focus of the city’s construction crews was the city itself. Guardians had to make do with hammocks and cots wherever they could stow them. Others, like Ari and Z, preferred to sleep in their ships or were off world too often that the makeshift sleeping arrangements didn’t bother them.

“I don’t like this at all,” Z grumbled. “This whole thing just screams of a setup.”

“That may be the case. But if the information we found on there is right, we can’t let SIVA tech fall into fallen hands. I am not in the mood to fight another Aksis.”

“I’d rather not deal with another zamboni of death. One is one too many!” Z loaded a clip into his sniper and followed behind Ari at a distance. Once through the door he took aim at the dreg that was squatting in their line of sight. Before he could pull the trigger, a captain materialized and killed it.

“Wait! Don’t shoot him!” Ari stepped towards the captain, but before she could take a step he had transmatted out of the area.

“What the fuck? I am seven kinds of confused right now.”

“You still think this is a set up?”

“Yes, but not the kind that I was originally thinking.” The transponder in Z’s pocket started to beep. He pulled it out, the screen illuminating his face.

“Looks like we only have about twenty minutes to get wherever we’re supposed to get.”

“Is it telling you where we need to go?”

“Yeah, hold on. Hey Ham, you know where this is?”

Ham materialized over Z’s shoulder and looked down at the transponder. “I believe I know the location. It is outside the Vanguard’s secret vault. The quickest routes have been blocked by layers of rubble.”

“Can we just fly there?” Z asked.

“That would be ill advised. If they are truly after the vault, we can’t simple fly in. We’d alert whomever is breaking in and they would destroy our ketch before we got close enough to transmat in.”

“Is there a route to get there that’s open?” Arete asked.

“The most recent scans I’ve received from the underground network plot a path. There will most likely be fallen along the way.”

“Is it too much to ask that the bad guys don’t do bad guy stuff for just one evening?” Z shouldered his sniper and took off at a jog behind Arete.

“Now Z, I thought you like the notoriety from doing things like this? You’ve been with me for every raid.”

“True. But a man’s gotta have a day off. I’ve been spending all my time whipping Glow Worm into shape.”

“He still letting you call him that?” she chuckled.

“I told him the day he can best me is the day I’ll stop calling him that.”

#My writing #wip wednesday #listen I know it's at the very end of the day #and I should have done this hours ago #but listen #my life is lowkey highkey midkey a big of a dumpster fire atm #so cut me some slack #let's all just be happy that I have something to share this week #that will hopefully be posted posted by the end of next week #*fingers crossed*

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andrea-c4c · 4 years

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Week 20: Learn& Test& Build& Repeat

Nov 4-8, 2019

Monday

The team was a bit slow to reconvene on Monday after a weekend together at CANUX. We did a NextGENTravel team-wide retrospective on last week’s Design Sprint.

Tuesday

Tuesday officially kicked off the FWD50 conference here in Ottawa.

According to the organizers, FWD50 is “more than an event. It’s a conversation between public and private sector about what we can be when we steer progress towards our better selves.” This three-day event featured a variety of speakers talking about digital transformation, particularly in the public sector.

A sampling of Tuesday sessions topics included:

Governing From The Edges: Digital Change, Inclusion And Impact In British Columbia

The Good, The Bad And The Ugly Of Government Of Canada Innovation Work

Technology, Trust And Talent For The Digital Age

Exploring Next Generation Citizen Experience

But for all the innovators onstage at Aberdeen Pavilion, we were most excited about what was queued up that evening at the Orange Art Gallery. Three of the four current Code for Canada cohorts presented project updates at a loosely-affiliated offsite Open House.

Working on the relatively short presentation (10ish minutes) was a great exercise for the team. What did we want to leave the audience with? We reflected on some of the powerful presentations we’d seen in the past, and tried to bring the audience on a journey (and not just b/c our challenge is travel-related). Giving presentations can sometimes be daunting, but this was a great opportunity to talk about our work in a safe, supportive environment. As we talked of some of the existing challenges travellers face, there were so many nodding faces in the crowd! It was a great reminder that the work we’re doing can really impact people’s abilities to do their work.

Also, Mike decided to step up our presentation style with coordinated t-shirts, which were a big hit! More than one person asked us where they were from, so if this whole tech thing doesn’t work out post-fellowship, we may have a new business idea to pursue 😎

Wednesday

With Tuesday night’s presentation behind us, we were able to settle in and focus a bit more on the conference itself.

The day kicked off with CDS’ Aaron Snow talking about The Art of the Possible. I basically retweeted the entire presentation :-) Later we got a chance to sit in on David Eaves’ session about Digital Transformation Strategies from across the world. As part of our Code for Canada onboarding, we’d had the chance to spend a day with David, so we were familiar with his rapid-fire presentation style. I still think I only really comprehend a portion of his material, but it keeps me thinking for a long time after.

I was really inspired by the presentations by Shu Yang Lin about the civic tech community in Taiwan, and blogged more extensively about it over on my medium blog: What can we learn from the civic tech community in Taiwan about public discourse and engagement?

Some of Wednesday’s great sessions included:

The PIA Review

Prototyping Future Democracy

Open Data For Justice: Tracking Down NYC's Worst Slumlords

Policy Making For Nobody

Digital Transformation Strategies from Around the World

Thursday

Things were a bit slower on Thursday morning for some of us. After the Code for Canada-hosted breakfast meetup, we gaggle of fellows and Code for Canada staff gathered and chatted on some of the comfortable couches around the space.

This was definitely the type of conference where you could see folks who didn’t attend any of the informational sessions, and just used the time to connect with other government innovators. Our track jackets made us noticeable in the crowd, and let us finally connect with some #GCDigital folks we only know off Twitter. (Hi Rob!)

A few of the sessions I managed to jump into were Failing FWD: Lessons In Building Digital Teams And Products with the Ontario Digital service team, and Digital Disruption: Fundamentals, Business, & Execution with CIOs from three departments within the federal government.

The MC for this session was Sagar from Code for Canada, and he pointed out that each of the three departments (PSC, PSPC and TC) have each hosted fellowship teams in the past. Coincidence?

The CIO session was pretty interesting, to see the leaders of these different departments at different stages along the journey. It was a nice wrap-up and reminder of the week: there’s a lot of ‘best practices’ being circulated and shared, but the gap between theory and practice can be huge.

Friday

Even though FWD50 officially wrapped up on Thursday, we managed to wrangle an invite to a “Rules as Code” working group session at the Canada School of Public Service. The speaker, Pia Andrews, participated in many sessions throughout the conference, and this was a relatively smaller audience as she went over some high-level topics and then answered open questions. Mike happened to pick the seat immediately next to Pia, and then the two Aussies chatted a bit after the session was over. Mike told her that he’d connected with the Code for Australia team that’d worked on Rules as Code, and it turns out it had been Pia who’d brought that team in. I suppose it is a small world! (Mike wrote about Rules as Code a few months ago)

Then in the afternoon we fellows congregated for a retro and offsite. It’s been a busy few weeks, and we wanted to recalibrate on how we were feeling about our team and our project. We really do get along well, and I value my teammates. It’s somewhat hard to believe that we’ve known each other for less than 6 months. There is a lot of mutual respect and care. I consider myself very fortunate to have Mike and Maddy on my team ❤️

#codeforca #codeforcanada #civictech #fwd50 #rulesascode

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years

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Puppy Love Ch1

Summary: Yuri has somewhere between two and four children, depending on your definition of "child," a dog, two jobs, and a too-small apartment. Reconnecting with his estranged best friend wasn't supposed to be on this week's to-do list.

Link to AO3 in the notes.

It starts like any other trip to the vet. Repede whines pathetically as they pull into the parking lot, but obediently—if sulkily—trots along at Yuri’s heels. Yuri shepherds him into the lobby and checks them in at the desk, then slumps into a chair in an examination room to wait for a vet tech. Repede wedges himself under the chair between Yuri’s calves.

What a big baby.

Yuri has his phone out, absentmindedly tapping at a game. It’s mostly to keep his hands busy while he mentally outlines his week. He has to get groceries at some point, but fucked if he knows when he’ll have time for it. He’s pulling double shifts through Thursday. In between the café and bartending, he has to pick Karol up from lacrosse practice and make dinner. Friday he doesn’t have bartending, but Rita’s got her latest robotics tournament on Friday, so that’s no good. And anyway, they won’t make it to Friday with their current stocks. They’ve barely got the food to make it through Wednesday.

Maybe Judy—? No, Judy has her own bartending and waitressing jobs to worry about. There’s always Estelle, but frankly Estelle sucks at grocery shopping. They’ll end up with basic staples and nothing else. Rita and Karol are already threatening mutiny if Yuri packs them any more egg sandwiches in their lunches. He can’t trust Estelle to shop for real ingredients.

Shit. Maybe he’ll squeeze it in after Repede’s check-up. He was hoping to catch a nap before his bartending shift, but it looks like he’ll just have to suck it up.

“Hi, is this R—oh my God, Yuri?”

Yuri almost drops his fucking phone onto Repede, his head shooting up at the familiar voice. “Flynn?”

They stare at each other like deer in the headlights for a long, terrible moment, before Flynn coughs awkwardly and steps fully into the room. “Hi, so we’ve got Repede here for a check-up today, right?”

“Theoretically,” Yuri says. “If we can get him out from under the ch—“

Repede has fully emerged from under the chair and stands in the middle of the room, watching Flynn suspiciously.

“Aww, hey there,” Flynn says. His eyes crinkle up with an irrepressible smile as he crouches to offer Repede his hand. Yuri’s heart hiccups in his chest. He’s still stupidly beautiful when he makes that dumb face. “You know, I wondered when I saw the name ‘Repede’ on the schedule, but I convinced myself it wasn’t...”

“Well, surprise,” Yuri says, letting the words come out sharper than he means to. Flynn raises an eyebrow while Repede licks his knuckles warily. The little bastard usually hates the vet, what is he doing? Does he remember Flynn? It’s been like three years. He’s a dog. He’s not even supposed to be able to remember he chewed up Estelle’s shoes last night. Or is that just about associating actions with human displeasure? “It was us.”

“I can see that.” Flynn tickles Repede under the chin. “Alright, buddy, let’s get you on the scale, huh?”

Repede whuffles sadly but allows Flynn to weigh him. Afterwards, as Flynn does a respectable job of concealing the medical feel-up as affectionate patting, he cocks his head in Yuri’s direction.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” Yuri shrugs, jamming his hands into his pockets. “Congrats on, you know. Vet school. Presumably.”

Flynn beams. “Thank you. It was incredibly generous of Dr. Oltorain to offer me a position here while I’m still pursuing my studies.”

“Something something valuable career experience.”

“You never change, do you?” Flynn snorts. He gives Repede’s ribs a final squeeze, then makes a few notes on a clipboard.

“Nope. Same old me.”

“What about you? What are you up to these days?”

“Eh, this and that. Helping out Hanks sometimes. Odd jobs. Accidentally acquiring roommates. The usual.”

“Accidentally—?” Flynn frowns at him, then sighs and shakes his head. “You’ve been picking up strays again, haven’t you?”

“Not the kind you’re thinking of,” Yuri says, wistfully imagining how much goddamn simpler his life would be if he had four mangy dogs or cats instead of four unruly teenagers in his house.

“Real roommates, then? Tell me they’re at least paying rent.”

“I got like a fifty-fifty success rate on that one.”

“Yuri!”

“What? Anything else would be child labor.”

“Child—“ Flynn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Let’s keep going with the check-up. What are you feeding him? How often?”

They go through the rest of the checklist, Flynn scribbling away at his clipboard. Finally, he clicks the pen and tucks the clipboard under his arm.

“Okay, you two sit tight for a few minutes and Dr. Oltorain will be right with you.”

“Sure.”

Flynn leaves the room. Yuri waits thirty seconds to make sure Flynn isn’t going to duck back in because he’s forgotten something, then drops his head into his hands with a loud groan.

“What the fuck?”

Of course Flynn works at his vet now. Of fucking course. He was just starting to feel like his life might be on the right track. It was time for something to go wrong. Repede noses against his hands until he drops them, then hauls himself into Yuri’s lap.

“You’re way too big to be doing this in this tiny ass chair,” Yuri says, doing absolutely nothing to get him down. Repede licks his cheek, narrowly missing the corner of his mouth. “Augh, gross, I know where you put that tongue.”

Despite his bitching, having a lap full of dog is making him feel a little better. Repede’s fur is silky under his hands, and every bony joint jamming into tender parts of his body is something to worry about that isn’t Flynn.

After a few minutes of cuddling, Raven sticks his head into the room. “Heeey, who do we have here?”

Repede’s ears flatten against his skull. Yuri rolls his eyes. “Hello to you too, old man.”

“The disrespect,” Raven sighs, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. “So, our buddy Flynn didn’t find any issues, so it looks like we just gotta do the quick run-down and get your boy here his shots. You know the drill.”

“Yeah.”

Yuri manhandles Repede back onto the floor and nudges him towards Raven. He growls. Raven barks out a laugh.

“Come on, pupper. Don’t be like that.”

“I hope you know that a little part of my soul dies every time you say that word,” Yuri says. Raven smirks at him.

“That’s why I keep using it.”

“Screw you.”

“Who, me? When you’ve got my perfectly good vet tech to ogle?”

Motherfucker, he knows. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” Raven says. He strides over to Repede while Yuri holds his dog in place. “Alright, doggo, it’s only gonna take a minute.”

The second he gets his hands on Repede, Repede gives them a full speech on how much he hates it. Yuri tries to shush him with gentle murmurs and stroking along his back, but the growling and whimpering don’t stop as Raven pats him down.

“Poor boy,” Raven says. “If I hadn’t been seein’ him since he was a pup, I’d think he had some kinda vet trauma.”

“He does, he has to see you every time,” Yuri snaps. “That’s enough to traumatize anyone.”

“God, you’re grouchy today,” Raven says. He croons softly as he tries to pry Repede’s jaws open to look at his teeth. Repede makes angry muffled sounds. “I thought maybe seeing our favorite golden boy would soften you up, but it did the opposite, didn’t it?”

“Who told you, anyway?”

“What, about you and Flynn?” Raven snorts. He still can’t get Repede’s mouth open. At least there’s no warning nips happening. Yuri almost had to go out and get a muzzle for Repede, solely for the vet, after their last visit. He wouldn’t really bite Raven, not on purpose, but it’s enough to make everyone involved nervous. “I knew Niren, kid. He used to talk you two up all the time.”

Yuri shifts uncomfortably.

“Anyway, so does Flynn, for that matter. Can’t get him to shut up about you.”

“Yeah right,” Yuri says, under his breath.

“If you start calling me a liar I’m gonna get Judy and Estelle involved in this conversation,” Raven says. He gives up on Repede’s jaws. “And then you’ll have to talk about your feelings.”

“Just fucking try me,” Yuri says. “I’ll tell Judy to talk to you about Alcoholics Anonymous again.”

“I’m glad we can have these objective, professional conversations during your check-ups,” Raven says, wincing as he rises from his crouch. “Ugh, my knees. Hold on, I’m gonna see if Flynn can get this guy to open up for us.”

“Try not to collapse on your way there, old timer.”

“Respect your elders, you brat.” Raven goes to the door and sticks his head into the back again. “Scifo! I could use a hand over here. And bring the vaccinations for Repede Lowell on your way, please.”

“I’ve never heard you use the word please before in my life,” Yuri says. Raven partially closes the door and mouths shut up at him. A moment later, he steps aside and lets Flynn into the room.

“I need your strong young hands,” Raven says. He plucks the vaccines from Flynn’s hands and jerks a thumb towards Repede. “Our friend here isn’t too fond of having his teeth checked.”

Repede whines and sticks his head between Yuri’s knees.

“Nobody’s doing anything to your mouth,” Yuri says, exasperatedly. He ruffles Repede’s ears. “You know nobody’s doing anything to your mouth. Just let them look and it’ll be over with.”

Repede whuffles sadly. Flynn comes over and crouches next to Yuri, scratching Repede’s back.

“Hi, buddy. You gonna let me see your handsome face?”

Repede lifts his head and rests it on Yuri’s thigh, giving Flynn a baleful look. Flynn reaches out to stroke his muzzle. Yuri tries very hard not to have a heart attack with Flynn’s hand so close to his groin.

“C’mon,” Flynn murmurs. “S’okay, bud. You’re okay. C’mere.”

Repede shoves his nose against Yuri’s abs, whimpering some more.

“No, you have to be a big boy,” Yuri says, pushing him back. Repede transfers the baleful look to him, then turns and tries to shove his nose into Flynn’s abs instead. Unfortunately for him, Flynn catches him by the face instead, holding him in place so Raven can come back across the room to join the party.

“Here we go,” Raven says. Flynn gently pries his mouth open. Repede—what the hell, Repede lets him. He growls again when Raven tries to reach for him, but only makes sad noises at Flynn. “Alright. It happens like this sometimes. I’m going to need you to expose his gums for me.”

“Okay, Dr. Oltorain.”

One side, then the other, then Raven waves a hand so Flynn releases Repede’s jaw. Repede immediately jerks away and hides against Yuri again.

“No problems lately, correct?” Raven asks Yuri. “No odd behavior, changes in eating habits?”

“Same as alw—“ Yuri pauses and actually thinks about it. “...The kids might have been sneaking him more people food.”

Flynn gives him a scandalized look. Raven just chuckles.

“Karol, huh?”

“Estelle keeps trying to buy his love,” Yuri says. To Flynn, defensively, he adds, “I’ve tried telling her not to.”

Flynn is busy mouthing Estelle at him questioningly.

“Well, his weight is steady, so I wouldn’t worry about it excessively if you haven’t noticed any behavioral or digestive issues,” Raven says. He makes a few notes on his clipboard. “Try to limit it, of course, but no cause for alarm. Make sure the kids know which foods are toxic to dogs. Teeth looked good, so I don’t think it’s time to start planning dental cleaning yet. We’ll get him his shots and you’ll be all set. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Raven says, and hands a syringe to Flynn, taking a large step back. Flynn startles comically.

“Dr. Oltorain—?”

“He’s more comfortable with you—it’s safer for everyone involved. As I said earlier, it happens this way sometimes. I’ll be right here on standby, but I don’t think you need coaching.”

Flynn dutifully preps the shots the same way Yuri’s been watching Raven do it for the last three years. Yuri knows the drill, too, and carefully gets Repede into the most comfortable headlock he can. Repede, desperately convincing himself it’s a regular hug, wags his tail nervously. He yelps when Flynn lays a hand on his hindquarters and presses the needle against his flank. He devolves into fretful whimpers against Yuri’s chest.

“I know, I know,” Yuri mumbles. “Hey, shh. Come on, you’re fine. Shh. This is better than getting rabies, huh? Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

“Fortuitous timing to have found a vet tech he’ll put up with,” Raven says, handing Flynn the next vaccine. “Since we’ve got all his core boosters this time.”

Repede licks frantically at Yuri’s neck. Yuri presses his forehead to Repede’s apologetically, petting his shoulder blades.

“This is karma for eating Estelle’s shoes,” Yuri tells him. Maybe if he makes jokes he’ll stop feeling so guilty. He doesn’t want Repede to get sick, dammit. He needs these shots. They’re good for him.

“Ah, yes, the terrible punishment of not getting parvo,” Raven says, wryly. Flynn shakes his head as he readies the next vaccine, circling around to Repede’s other flank.

“If he’s being destructive, he might need an energy outlet. Try to get him more exercise.”

Yuri physically bites back the urge to tell Flynn not to tell him what to do. Who’s he to show up back in Yuri’s life out of the blue and tell him he doesn’t know how to take care of his own damn dog? Raven frowns.

“Let’s avoid the accusatory advice, Flynn.”

“Sorry,” Flynn mutters, ducking his head. Three down, one to go.

“And speaking of Repede’s exercise, I’ve added a vaccine for Lyme disease to his annual set.”

Make that two to go. Yuri grimaces, mentally adding another $15 to the bill. “Okay.”

“You hike a lot?” Flynn asks.

“When we’ve got the time,” Yuri says. It isn’t as often as he’d like. Mostly they have to stick to jogs and on-leash community parks. They can get away with frisbee on the lawn by Karol’s school if nobody has sports practice, and Karol has started throwing balls around for Repede with his lacrosse stick every once in a while. Maybe Yuri will start detouring to local parks on the way home from Karol’s games and Rita’s tournaments.

Flynn gives Repede the last shot and pulls back with a sympathetic pat. Repede crawls forward, forcing his way into Yuri’s lap and tipping them both over so Yuri lands painfully on his ass on the hard tile floor. Yuri scoffs at him, but lets him curl up on top of his thighs.

“German shepherd mix who thinks he’s a lapdog,” Raven says, watching them with an expression that Yuri is going to pretend isn’t fond, thank you very much. They’ve both got reputations to uphold. “You spoil that mongrel.”

“If you think this is bad, wait until Judy figures out how to fit him into a bag so she can take him on train trips,” Yuri says. Repede huffs pitifully, dropping his muzzle onto Yuri’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me all about it. You suffer so much. Really awful of us to make sure you don’t die of preventable diseases.”

“Take your overgrown puppy and go get some rest, Lowell,” Raven says. He collects the empty syringes from Flynn and carefully disposes of them in the sharps bin. “You look like you’re running on fumes.��

“I gotta settle the bill first,” Yuri grumbles. He pushes Repede out of his lap and heaves himself to his feet. Maybe they’ll be waiting until Friday for groceries after all. He might need to wait for his next paycheck after this. He tries to do the math in his head, bank account minus vet bill versus typical grocery restock.

“No, you don’t. Don’t even think about it.”

Yuri narrows his eyes. “What’s that, old man?”

“Yuri!” Flynn hisses. “You can’t talk to Dr. Oltor—“

“There’s no bill,” Raven says. He makes a shoo motion with his hands. “Judy won’t let me tip her at the Myorzo anymore.”

“You tip her like 300 percent. It’s kind of creepy.”

“Well, she’s a good bartender. Anyway, I have to contribute to your rent somehow.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“Yuri!”

“Kid,” Raven says, looking Yuri straight in the eyes. “You have five people and a dog in a two-room apartment, and you’re still bringing Repede to the vet. The least I can do is offer positive reinforcement. Besides, if I bill you for making sure one of Lambert’s pups doesn’t get rabies, Niren is going to—pardon my language, Flynn—he’ll fucking haunt me.”

“Dr. Oltorain!”

“I said pardon my language! Anyway, I don’t need those nightmares.” Raven waves a dismissive hand at Yuri again. Yuri grits his teeth. The old bastard really isn’t going to budge. “Get out of my clinic.”

“I’ll pay you back,” Yuri mutters, clipping Repede’s leash back on. “Once we stabilize.”

“Take your time,” Raven says, mildly. “Seriously, though, get out. I have other clients to deal with.”

He disappears through the back door. Yuri turns on his heel, not meeting Flynn’s eyes, and has a hand on the doorknob when the back door swings open again.

“And I better not hear from the receptionist that you tried to harass them into letting you pay!”

“For fuck’s sake—I wasn’t gonna! I won’t! Jesus Christ.”

The back door slams closed again. Flynn makes a breathy sound that might be laughter.

“I didn’t realize you and Dr. Oltorain were so... familiar.”

“He passes through the bars Judy and I work at a lot,” Yuri says, grudgingly. It’s not the whole story, but it’s what Flynn’s getting out of him. “And he’s been Repede’s vet since he was a puppy.”

“Judy’s your... girlfriend?”

“What? No. No.” Yuri drops his hand from the doorknob to run it through his hair, laughing a bit in disbelief. “Judy? No way. We’re roommates. Used to be coworkers.”

There’s a weird beat of silence. When he glances back, Flynn is chewing on his lip indecisively. “Can we... can I give you my new cell number? I’d like to catch up sometime. I missed you.”

Sounds fake, but okay. “Sure, I guess.”

“And I’d love to meet your roommates,” Flynn adds, terribly earnest.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Yuri says. He can already imagine Flynn and Rita’s tempers clashing. “But we can, I dunno, text or go out for drinks or something.”

“Coffee?” Flynn suggests. Yuri gives him a weird look. He hastily adds, “I just... don’t know if we should risk getting drunk together again quite yet.”

“Whatever,” Yuri says. If Flynn doesn’t even remember he’s an affectionate drunk, not an angry drunk, that’s... It hurts, a little. It hasn’t been that long since they were joined at the hip. Flynn is a little bit of an angry drunk, but as far as Yuri can remember, he’s never held up a temper too long when Yuri’s that friendly and relaxed. Yuri fishes his phone out of his pocket and tosses it to Flynn. “Put your number in, then.”

Flynn gives him a hopeful smile as he complies. When he hands Yuri’s phone back, he lingers with a feather-light touch to Yuri’s wrist. “I’ll talk to you soon, then?”

“Uh-huh.”

Yuri beats a hasty retreat to his car, where he immediately slumps into the driver’s seat to let out a loud, plaintive groan. Repede stretches forward from the back seat to lick at his shoulder reassuringly. Yuri gives himself another thirty seconds to wallow, immobile, in self-pity, before he snaps his seatbelt into place and turns the key in the ignition.

Life goes on, Flynn or no Flynn.

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #repede vesperia #tales of vesperia #judith dragon rider #bastard spotted #not art #long post #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In

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