#now you may be wondering. hey tb. what brought this on.

[tbcanary]

Dinah Lance, the Black Canary 🖤

[the-fiction-witch]

The Experiment

REAL LIFE COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: SWEET AF

I admit! I don't not know how I feel about this… morality speaking anyway.

I mean it's not like I'm going to magic him into loving me with a love potion or something.

But… I am going to use science!

Science to gain love and affection!

I hope. I do hope this works.

I was utterly in love with a boy named Peter and I had tried everything in the world to get him to notice me but nothing has worked so far anyway.

But today I begin an experiment in the name of true love. And science.

I intended to use science in my quest for a boyfriend but given I don't know how well this is going to work I needed a lab rat.

"Hi Thomas!" I smiled sitting beside him as we often shared a desk

"Hey y/n" he smiled back as he was deep in his doodles

"What are you up to?" I asked

"Drawing"

"No shit. What are you drawing?"

So he showed me and honestly I was just about as confused as before he showed me "motorbike" he says tapping the sketchpad with his pencil

"I see…" I nodded but for distracted as Peter wondered in with his books taking a seat far across the room and Thomas gave me a look "what?'

"Your still stuck on him?"

"I love him"

"I've seen you two have three conversations one of which was about a pencil you not to subtly dropped by his desk last week"

"You know true love when you feel it"

"I don't know what you find so utterly mesmerising about him"

"He's strong."

"So?"

'He's handsome"

"Debatable"

"He's smart"

"Is he?" He laughed "considering in one of your conversations you had together you tried to talk to him about the cold war and he got confused because he thought the cold war was just any war happening in the snow"

"What are you implying Thomas?"

"That your boyfriend may…. Be a few sandwiches short of a picnic" he says returning to his drawing

"Says the boy who still uses his hands to tell his left from his right?"

"Fine. Breed with the largest stupidest male. Us smaller males will just huddle in the corner and if lucky get to mate with the regents. Like elephant seals"

".... You're still mad Lizzy bumped you?"

"No!" He argued "but I don't know what you girls see in those bloody jock boys" he sighed

"Thomas?" I asked after a while

"Ummmm?"

"How would you feel about… maybe being a subject"

"A subject of what?"

"Of an experiment"

"What kind of experiment"

"Telling you would change the variables so I can't tell you"

"Right. What would being a subject involve?"

"Well once I get my experiment sorted nothing I would purely be observing your reactions to things"

"So I can't know what your doing? Incase in changes my reaction to it when I know what your doing?"

"Yes, and so it does put you in one mindset or another"

"So you'd just have to observe Me?"

"Yes."

".... Will I have to take my clothes off?"

"No" I giggled "why would you want to take your clothes off?"

"I don't know what experiment your doing I don't know if I have to have my pants off?"

"No Thomas you can have pants during the experiment"

"Are pants a requirement? For the experiment?"

"Yes" I told him

"Alright, I will be your subject"

"Yay!" I smiled giving him a hug "sign this" I told him giving him a blank bit of paper

"Why?"

"Science. And legal reasons"

"I feel very afraid right now I'm not gonna lie"

"Just sign away you nerd"

"Fine. Here" he sighed signing away

"Thank you lab rat" I smiled

I waited a week or two almost to let him forget about the experiment and I began simply and small. I'd text him in the morning and ask what he was going to wear that day. He was often confused why I cared but told me anyway. So I would at first wear a colour that compliments what he chooses nicely. For example he wore blue and I'd wear white. He wore black I'd wear red. And so on. This didn't even go noticed by him at all. And after a week or so of this I began to do the same. He wore red. I wore red. He wore black I wore black. And again this wasn't even noticed by him. The only day he even brought it up was when we both turned up to class in blue jeans and a Vivarna shirt but even then mostly for the coincidence of it. But I had worn boots and a button-down just to make it so I wasn't dressed exactly the same as him

"I didn't know you liked them?" He chuckled to himself

"Well your always talking about them" I smiled sitting down beside him

"Yeah I uhh I guess." He smiled

"Awww you guys are so cute" a girl in the row behind us smiled "such a cute couple"

"Ohh no no we're not- uhhh were not a couple" Thomas corrected I focused on my work but watched my peripheral vision seeing him looking at me with a sweet little smile.

The next step I wasn't sure was going to do anything at all, but still for science! I watched.... ohh my god. Every FUCKING star wars media that exists! and it took time. Every movie and show he had ever mentioned, every band he had spoke off, I got a book to learn about fucking motorbikes! So when we talked I was a wealth of knowledge, we would talk about it all for hours and hours, I mean he would and honestly, he did that anyway but now! I understood what the hell he was going on about when he says cruisers Vs touring. and he loved it he would go on rattling on full of passion about these types of subjects and I could actually respond with something more on the topic than... cool.

The next step was going to get a little more deeply scientific. I had long known of Thomas's love for Cheetos and he often wasn't allowed them by his mum, so it became like clockwork on my way to class I'd grab a bag of Cheetos for him in all honesty I bought like a multipack on Monday and just gave him a packet every day.

"Morning" I smiled as I got to my locker

"Morning" he smiled back

"Prezzie" I smiled slipping them over for him

"Ummmm you are an angel" he smiled happily taking them from me "your too sweet to me y/n"

"It's okay, I like being sweet to you" I smiled

It got to the point I would do it all the time being him Cheetos or cookies, or other little things every time I saw him. And he would smile the moment he saw me he would perk up and smile widely, no matter where we were, my house, his, the street, the classroom, the corridor it didn't matter he could be in the grumpiest of slumps laid on his desk looking like a pouty little puppy but the moment I walked in, he perked up sitting straight with a wide smile. Once I walked down the hall and he was at his locket looking a little mad but the second he saw me he smiled widely, and for a second he seemed perplexed as to why he was so happy to see me. It even got to the point I didn't have to bring him anything he would just perk up when he saw me.

So once he got to that point I began the next phase of my experiments. I began to do the same things as him, we'd be sat at the same desk and he'd start doodling so I'd begin to doddle a little, or he'd fiddle with his nails so I fiddle with mine, fixed his hair so I fixed mine but never noticeably enough that It looked as if I was copying him and after a while, he snaped as I had planned him too

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" I asked sipping my drink

"did uhhh... did you wanna come out with me tonight?"

"Where?"

"I don't know. Movie or something?"

"In what capacity?" I smiled

"In.... whatever capacity you want." he smiled "Unless you're still hung up on peter?"

"I'm not. I'd love to" I smiled

And... for a little while I forgot all about why I had been experimenting on him in the first place, we went on little dinner and movie days, little days out on his bike, sweet cuddles and kisses and honestly I have up peter completely and ended my experiments, I was perfectly happy likely happier then I would have been with peter.

"Y/n?" Thomas asked as I stood brushing my hair ready for us to go out to dinner tonight, he was perched his chin on my shoulder nuzzled into my neck his arms around my waist

"Yes?" I giggled

"Are you everything going to do that experiment? that io was your subject for? or have you given up on that?" he asks

"Ohhhh sweetie" I giggled patting his innocent little head

"What?"

"Nothing"

"No tell me"

"I was did it. I just never told you"

"Oh. what was it?"

"I did an experiment to see... if I could get you to ask me on a date"

his eyes widened and he moved away from me looking panicked "That's what you were doing! that's why you were being so nice to me!"

"Ohh I did way more than being nice, buying you foods, giving you positive impressions, copying you subtly, even learning about stuff you like to make you think I understood your ramblings" I explained continuing with my hair

"You... You evil girl! you pavlovian conditioned me!"

"I mean...... Kinda"

"How could you do that to me!"

"To be fair. you agreed to be my little lab rat"

".... are you still?"

"no I gave up months ago"

"Okay. you promise?"

"I promise" I smiled giving him a kiss

"And for the record. I already had a crush on you before you started the experiment"

"You did?"

"Of course I did. I've had a crush on you for like the last six years... did you not pick up on that?"

"I did not."

"Hu. maybe I should have done the conditioning. But I'm happy you did" he smiled cuddling me again "I love you"

"Awww I love you too Thomas" I smiled giving him another kiss

[littleoddwriter]

Hey there! For your fics, can you do one with Ewan McGregor’s Christian And Satine in an alternate timeline where they have a kid Satine doesn’t have TB? Sending positive vibes and well wishes your way xx

Grateful | Christian x Satine | Moulin Rouge (2001)

Hey, thank you for the request and well-wishes! Usually I wouldn't write for F/M Ships, especially since I did state that I purely write MLM and NBLM Fics, but Christian and Satine are the token straights I accept into my Fic realm, I suppose, fhsfkhk. I just love them too much. So thanks for having me write for them after all! I hope you enjoy it. <3 Still, this doesn't mean I'll write Het Ships|F/M relationships from now on, too, because I won't. This is an exception and while I may make further exceptions in the future, only with canon couples like this, don't let it become a habit please, y'all. Thanks!

summary; Just a glimpse into a moment of Christian and Satine's life as the parents of their beautiful seven-year old daughter.

notes; Domestic Fluff; Kid Fic; Soft Kisses; Cuddles; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence.

Some seven wonderful years ago, Christian and Satine have gotten married and brought a beautiful little girl into the world. Satine has been a successful actress since her debut in Spectacular Spectacular! Her dream had finally come true. Christian had continued to write the plays she’d appear in and soon Zigler’s theatre had been the most renowned in all of Paris at that time.

“Papa, Papa, Papa!” Christian’s daughter – Jolie – exclaimed excitedly, interrupting his reminiscence of the past.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Look, I’m a princess! Like Mama in her new play!” She twirled, so he could appreciate her outfit fully.

Indeed, her outfit was a miniature version of what Satine would wear in their new piece, playing a princess this time. It was a beautiful sunflower yellow ball gown with puffy shoulders and hooped skirt, golden details woven into the hem of it. Jolie looked beautiful as a little princess. In fact, she generally resembled her mother a lot and like this, she almost looked like a tiny version of her. She was sure to grow up to be a stunning woman and he hoped she’d find someone who would treasure her the way she deserved.

“You’re right, baby. You look stunning, just like your mother,” he complimented her, beaming at her.

When she climbed into his lap, he wrapped his arms tightly around her, kissing the top of her head. “My beautiful princess,” he murmured into her red hair, smiling.

He couldn’t have been happier to be a father to such a sweet girl, especially with his Satine. When he had told him that she was pregnant he had been beyond ecstatic. It may have been the best news he’s ever received in his entire life. And when their little girl was born, his heart swelled. Now his heart beat for his two ladies and only them.

“What did I hear about a princess?” Satine asked, chuckling, when she came into the room, wearing a scarlet silk robe, looking as marvellous as ever. She took her breath away.

“I’m the princess! Like you!” Jolie replied, grinning toothily up at her mother, albeit two baby teeth were missing.

“That you certainly are, my precious little girl,” his beautiful wife said, sitting down next to them and wrapping an arm around Christian’s shoulders.

She leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, both of them just smiling at each other for a moment. Then she leaned over to her daughter, kissed her cheek and rubbed their noses together, making Jolie giggle. It was music to Christian’s ears and he was certain that Satine would agree.

After a couple of moments, in which they just sat there, peacefully cuddling with each other, Jolie apparently had enough, as she wriggled out of Christian’s hold and his lap, running back into her own room, still giggling happily. Both Christian and Satine looked after her, fond smiles stretching their lips.

“She’s really gotten a lot from you,” Christian spoke softly, looking at his wife and intertwining his fingers with her hand that rested on his thigh.

“You really think so? I sometimes see more of you in her,” Satine countered.

“Well, she certainly looks like you. I mean- Have you seen her just now? She really looks like a tiny version of you. I don’t think I could be any happier, my love.”

“Hm, I’d say you have a point,” Satine chuckled. She turned her head and rested her forehead against Christian’s temple, kissing his cheek softly, “Oh, Christian, I love you so much. I’m so grateful to have met you when I did,” she murmured, her lips brushing over his cheek.

“I love you, too, my darling. And really, I’m the one who should be grateful. I don’t know where I’d be without you now, and I don’t want to know. Thank you for making me into who I am today,” he whispered.

Instead of replying – and really, Christian knew that no words could ever truly convey their feelings for each other – Satine pressed a tender kiss to his lips, which he reciprocated all too happily.

It was true, ‘The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return’. There was nothing more important to life than that in Christian’s eyes.

[gaelforceplayroom]

We’re all kinds going through a historically and splendidly crappy time right now and I had to share this email.  When I got it, I thought it was going to be an ad.  I forgot I signed up Kim Rhode’s (of Supernatural) emails but I love her so I wasn’t upset to see her email “Just Checking In”

When I opened it I found a heartfelt, INCREDIBLY inspiring message (and a recipe for cookie so hey! lol) that lifted my heart and gave me some perspective amidst all this difficulty we’re all experiencing.

I wanted to share this because I KNOW all of us need to hear it so here tis.

A note from Kim Rhodes:

Hi, you tender, beautiful, wonderful human,

I said I’d be a pen-pal and I bailed. It all got very hard. But then…. it got harder. And harder. So fuck it, I’m emerging from some ashes with a little perspective I’m compelled to share and a cookie recipe.

I won’t be insulted if you skip to the recipe.

It feels like I’ve lost so much. I’ve lost the joy I share chatting with my friends. I’ve lost the security I got from income. I’ve lost the worth I gain from being seen. I’ve lost the love I exchange when I get to move through the world dancing and hugging and sharing and being me. I’m left with just…. me. Me, in a world that isn’t what I wish it were.

Here is what I’ve realized. Those things ARE me. I am joy. I am safe. I am worthy and loving. Perhaps the lenses that brought them into focus are burning right now, and perhaps the feelings might not be accessible to me, but they ARE ME.

They are you too.

You are the laughter you remember and the ecstatic whirling of scarves and wind while you dance. You are the exuberant glee of grabbing soup cans as you ride your own shopping cart recklessly down the aisle. You are the comfort of a blanket meant to fit a tiny bed, wrapped around multiple shoulders to fend off the chill of the night. Or the grief of the heart. Your essence cannot be taken by the world, no matter what. Your moments are different, but the feelings are intrinsic to your being.

I understand it may not feel like that right now. I would never devalue or dismiss your experience. But sometimes I need a reminder of the bright because my own darkness becomes blinding. There is light waiting for us. It is inevitable because it is who. We. Are.

In the mean time, here are some cookies. I want to give a hearty and unsolicited shoutout to the original recipe from sallysbakingaddiction.com. I merely tweaked it.

BUTTERSCOTCH OATMEAL COOKIES

MAKE THE BATTER A DAY AHEAD!

Ingredients:

1 and 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 cup unsalted butter - VERY SOFT! (I used salted and it was fine, because that’s just how I roll)

1 cup packed dark brown sugar

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs at room temp

1 Tbs molasses

2 tsp vanilla

3 cups OLD FASHIONED rolled oats. Don’t use the minute oats. Seriously. I mean…. okay, if you must. But I will be disappointed. Not a lot. But it will be in my eyes.

1 12 oz package butterscotch chips

1 cup dried cranberries (“Gross, Kim, butterscotch and cranberries? Everyone knows it should be white chocolate and cranberries!” Okay, you hush, you. Trust me on this. The tart flavor is what makes this cookie not eye-crossingly sweet and instead a rhapsody of deliciousness. You do you. But for Chuck’s sake… at least give it a shot.

• Whisk dry ingredients. Set aside.

• Cream together butter and sugars. Like… beat the ever lovin’ fuck out of it.

• Add eggs (one at a time) molasses and vanilla. Mix well. Not ever lovin’ fuck well, but well.

• Gently and kindly add dry ingredients, starting with flour mixture, then oats, finally chips and cranberries.

• Refrigerate overnight. You know why? Well, yes. Right now it is a gooey mess and there’s no way you could transform this glop into cookies. But also! You ever do overnight oats? Yeah. The oats are gonna soak up all that buttery goodness and become little miracles of tastiness.

NEXT DAY

• I recommend parchment paper on your cookie sheets.

• Preheat oven to 350.

• Make balls, (I said “balls”. SHOUTOUT TO JIM BEAVER!) a couple of tablespoons big. They will spread as they cook.

• 14 minutes in the oven. Let finish cooking on sheet if you want super chewy. If not, 15 in the oven.

• Makes about 3 dozen, depending on how much quality control you did on the batter when you were awake at 2 AM and don’t try to pretend that’s just me.

I am grateful to you and for you.

With immense love,

Kim

[epic-potato-crisp]

Wireless (AjinWeek2020/6)

Day 6: Favorite AU! / Dotard + Call of Duty

By @ryokasmagic

Note:  AU in which Satou is a Pro-Gamer.

…………

* Sam_The_Gaming_Man has started his first stream on Twitch! *

“Hello everyone, and good day from Tokyo!” The older man greets the audience with a bright smile, throwing up a peace-sign. He’s wearing a cap that’s covering parts of his face, but no-one can miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“First, I want to thank my over 1 million subscribers for making this possible by always watching my Let’s Plays- You guys are the real champions! Welcome to my debut stream!”

He tips his hat. “This whole social media landscape, if I may be honest with you guys, is quite the challenge for an old geezer like me. That’s why I have Oliver over here helping me out. Thank you, Oliver!”

Someone waves a walking stick in greeting in the background.

“And thank you to Terry and Garry, who carried all my equipment up here, and helped him install it.” He gestures around himself. “Here, you can see my entire setup!”

A photo briefly fades into the right corner of the stream, showing a desktop with two large monitors, a tower case standing at the bottom, a keyboard flashing in red, gaming mouse and various other electronics. “4 TB of storage and the best CPU on the market, according to Oliver!” He holds up his hands in resignation: “Please do not ask me for the details, I have long since given up on that particular aspect. I’m here for the game and the game only! As they say, I’m going in for the kill.” He chuckles.

A taller man appears in the background. “Eh- Sato- eh, Sam-san?” a voice asks uncertainly.

“Oh, Ted!” Sam beckons him closer in a gleeful voice, “Ted my man! Come here, come here! Say hello to our audience!”

Ted inches forward. He’s of above average height, his black hair is long and shaggy under a grey basecap, and he’s wearing a red sports-jacket. He also looks like he very much doesn’t want to be here.

“I’ve brought your refreshment.” Ted says, holding out a large glass filled with tea, ice-cubes, lemon, a straw and even a little turquoise umbrella on top.

“Ted, please, take a seat!” Sam insists and finally Ted does, sitting down on the stool next to him and hands him the glass, which he gratefully accepts.

“Thank you so much!”

Sam takes a large sip. Closing his eyes, he tilts back his head and lets out a content sigh. “Just what I need before a long streaming session. Ted, you really are an angel!”

Ted avoids looking at the camera. There’s a faint blush on his face.

“Can I go now, Sat- eh, Sam-san?”

Sam laughs, amicably patting his back. “Ahh, Ted always the shy one. Go on, I won’t keep you.”

Ted bows, mumbles his thanks and disappears in a flash.

“Where were we, where were we….” Sam studies the screen, “Right, today we will be tackling a very retro game, made possible by Oliver and his friend, the emulator. Super Mario Brothers, originally published for the NES! Haha, what a joy to go back to my roots!”

Sam takes another sip of his drink. “Mmm, delicious. On this note, a big thank you to my sponsors Nekozawa Tech! They have also gifted me this beautiful headset!”

He points to his face. The headset in question shines in a cardinal red, with cat-ears adorning the top.

“See, these can even be lighted up!” Sam explains, as he demonstrates, “It makes me feel right as though I bathed in the fountain of immortal youth!” He winks into the camera.

“And of course, it wouldn’t be complete without a high-quality microphone.” He continues, lovingly patting the device in front of him. “If this has wakened your gaming spirit, click on the link in my description and get 40% of your next Nekozawa Tech order with the code EmperorSam! And now, back to the game!”

He rubs his hands, smirking.

“I do hope I won’t regret my boastful words the second I start World 1, but if you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I’m quite the pro at this game in particular. So, in order to keep this whole stream a little more interesting and personal, feel free to ask any burning questions you may have. Terry and Gerry over here are monitoring the feed and will pick the most exquisite ones for when I pass a level! Right, you two?”

“Back to business, baby!” a cheery voice shouts.

Sam nods. “That’s what I love to hear. Ah, and now, to no longer keep you- let the Games begin!”

….

Sam breezes through the first two worlds in record-time, audibly having a blast while doing so.

Apparently, so is his audience. His viewer count has tripled by the time they reach World 4.

“Sam, ready for some questions?” a voice asks in the background.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Terry!” Sam flashes a confident grin at the camera, stretching and tilting his neck from one side to the next, until it gives a satisfying crack.

“telomere_freak wants to know: “Don’t you think Sam_The_Gaming_Man sounds a little too peaceful for someone of your caliber? How about killer_grandpa_606 or murderous_maniac_xoxo.”

Sam laughs heartily in response. “What a great first question to start of the round! You have a point, telomere_freak, my bloodthirsty nature – in games, of course, only- “yet again, he winks at the camera, “is not as subtle as I believed. I’m quite content with my name, however I do want to honour such a creative suggestion.” He spins around in his chair.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Yes, Sam?”

“Can you add: “Killer_Grandpa_xoxo” to my twitter bio?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Wonderful! Thank you again, telomere_freak for your question. Do we have any others, Gary?”

“We have one here from yuuandai.” A second voice announces in the background. Someone, presumably Terry, cracks up with laughter.

“Guys, seriously? I see what you did there, but that’s so freaking lame!”

Gary clears his throat. “Yuuandai wants to know: “What was your occupation before becoming a pro-gamer?”

“Quite the serious one here.” Sam muses, taking down his headset for a moment. “Well, I won’t disclose too many personal details, but I can say I dabbled in International Trade before deciding to retire at my desktop. It might be difficult to imagine me all fancy in a business suit, but back then, it payed the bills. And it taught a lot about strategy at the same time.”

He puts his headset back on. “And now, let’s get ready for some entertainment!”

……

World 4 is destroyed in an almost ridiculous amount of time.

“I’d really feel sorry for these turtles.” he comments, “If they weren’t such fun to jump on!”

Unexpectedly, World 5 proves to be more difficult than Sam had anticipated.

His good mood doesn’t drop in the slightest. On the contrary, it seems have been heightened.

“What a rollercoaster!” Sam calls out in exhilaration, pausing the game after yet another death, “That’s an enemy how I like them- difficult to predict, difficult to conquer. Alas, I will take a short break. Terry, if you please?”

“kurochan100 wants to know: Will you be joining us for the Call of Duty Tournament next weekend?”

“What a question, of course! That’s something that even early stage dementia won’t let me forget.” Sam laughs, “Just a joke, folks.” He smirks. “My old brain works a little better than Ted would like it to sometimes.”

As if on cue, the taller man appears behind him: “Sat-, eh, Sam-san. Your medication.” He fidgets, pill box in hand.

“Ted, you’re truly an angel! Don’t stand there, sit, sit. You know my female fanbase appreciates your cameos.”

“Do they?” Ted asks quietly, fidgeting but taking a seat as expected of him.

“Why wouldn’t they? We all need a savior like Ted when your own hips become one’s mortal enemy.” Sam sighs theatrically, waggling a finger at the camera.

He then swallows medication in one go with a generous sip of iced tea.

“#tenshited is trending.” Terry calls out from the back, as #てんしてど moves up to number one of Japan’s most popular twitter topics.

“Ahahaha, is it? See Ted, the ladies just can’t enough get of you!”.

Ted mumbles something incoherent, pulling his basecap even lower.

“Wait a second though- “Sam frowns, “What user asked about the tournament again?”

“kurochan100.” Gary says.

“Wait, is it the kurochan100? Terry, check that please.”

“On it, boss. Oh, speaking of the devil: “It is me. You better have your weapons ready on Saturday.”- kurochan100.”

“Of course, it is them!” Sam chuckles, and waves into the camera.

“Shout-out to kurochan100! She’s an up-and-coming streamer, and a living legend at Call of Duty. Even Ted has experienced the joy of being crushed by her before. Haven’t you, Ted?”

“I need to leave.” Ted mumbles, and promptly disappears from sight.

“Some losses take longer to get over.” Sam comments, with a wry smirk, “Well, give her a follow on her Twitch channel, you won’t regret it! Except of course, if you’re on the opposing team!” He laughs loudly.

“Let’s continue.” he announces, turning back to the game. There’s a vengeful glint in his eyes.

“I still have a World to take over.”

[dsudis]

Dira do you think that in light of the one year anniversary, we could get a little snnipet of the next All the Burning Hearts in Hell installment? You know.... to carry us over the long drought :))

Sure! I’d been thinking I should do this anyway, and I’m 30k into writing the next story, so… A chapter is a snippet, right?

Slavefic #6 picks up exactly where The Sacrifice Play left off, so you may want to reread at least Chapter 9 of The Sacrifice Play if it’s been, say, a year since you read it.

When Steve had been lying still and quiet for a little while, he found his ears attuned to Bucky’s breathing. He winced when he recognized the sound of it: carefully even and shallow, without the slightest accompanying sound of movement. That was Bucky in pain, or lying awake in the night trying not to give himself away.

Steve had always figured, when he lay in camp listening to Bucky breathing like that, that he was remembering the factory at Kreischberg–his imprisonment, and that table Steve had found him on. Now that Steve knew what Bucky had survived, he couldn’t help wondering if it was more than that keeping Bucky awake at night–had he felt himself changing in slow motion the way Steve had changed inside Howard’s Vita-Ray chamber? Had he known what Zola did to him, or had he been left to wonder?

Would he ever remember enough of those nights to tell Steve what his nightmares had been, or had other nightmares long since blotted them out?

After an agonizing three-quarters of an hour, the sound of Bucky’s breathing changed to something even more familiar. The softness of sleep, real sleep, which Steve had heard in his ear and felt against the back of his neck more times than he could count. He fell into something like a doze himself, lulled by the sweetness of it and the sudden release of tension.

When Steve had been lying stilland quiet for a little while, he found his ears attuned to Bucky’s breathing.He winced when he recognized the sound of it: carefully even and shallow,without the slightest accompanying sound of movement. That was Bucky in pain,or lying awake in the night trying not to give himself away.

Steve had always figured, when helay in camp listening to Bucky breathing like that, that he was remembering thefactory at Kreischberg–his imprisonment, and that table Steve had found himon. Now that Steve knew what Bucky had survived, he couldn’t help wondering ifit was more than that keeping Bucky awake at night–had he felt himselfchanging in slow motion the way Steve had changed inside Howard’s Vita-Raychamber? Had he known what Zola did to him, or had he been left to wonder?

Would he ever remember enough ofthose nights to tell Steve what his nightmares had been, or had othernightmares long since blotted them out?

After an agonizing three-quartersof an hour, the sound of Bucky’s breathing changed to something even morefamiliar. The softness of sleep, real sleep, which Steve had heard in his earand felt against the back of his neck more times than he could count. He fellinto something like a doze himself, lulled by the sweetness of it and thesudden release of tension. 

When a distant sound woke him,there was a second when he didn’t know where he was, only that Bucky was near.Was it their day off, precious hours wasted drowsing in the park? Were theynapping in camp ahead of a night raid?

He opened his eyes and saw thepotted plant and the skylight, and recognized the soft pad of approachingfootsteps. Stark–Stark the younger. Tony. 

Steve got silently to his feetand strode out of the bedslaves’ quarters, shutting the door noiselessly behindhim. He reached the doorway of Stark’s bedroom when Stark was only a couple ofsteps away.

Stark stopped short. He wascarrying a tray of food in assorted bite-sized pieces, including a little bowlof some kind of rainbow-colored bon bons, and for the barest instant he lookedsurprised to see Steve there. Steve held up a hand and stepped out into thehall, pulling the door shut after him. 

“He just fell asleep, maybeten minutes ago,” Steve said softly. “The worst of the headachemust’ve passed, but I don’t think he’ll be ready to eat until he wakes up onhis own." 

Stark looked past Steve, as ifThreetoo might materialize behind him, and said, "The worst ofwhat headache.”

“Oh,” Steve said.Right, he’d only recognized it himself from seeing how dark Bucky had made hissleeping area, and the plant, and what he’d heard. “Yeah, he… he made itpitch black where his bed is, and I could hear him being real careful drinkingthat juice, like he felt sick, so I figured… sick headache. I had a bunch of‘em when I was a kid, for weeks after I got my bell rung real hard in a fight.He hit his head yesterday, didn’t he?”

Steve felt a little sick himselfas his memory answered his own question with the sick sound of Bucky’s headhitting the floor of Stark’s lab. 

“Sick headache,” Starkrepeated, shoving the tray in Steve’s direction as he rubbed his eyes with hisfree hand. “Migraine. But it didn’t start yesterday, did it? JARVIS, howdid we miss this? The other day, he asked for dark–”

“He felt sick first,sir,” JARVIS pointed out. “The headache appeared to follow after. Hehas made his sleeping area artificially dark twice before, but there was noreason to conclude that he was experiencing migraine symptoms." 

"But now there is, so is he?Was he?” Stark demanded. “Did we–” Stark focused sharply onSteve again. “You’re sure he’s sleeping? He’s not lying there in pain?”

“I mean, I can’t guaranteehe hasn’t woken up in the last two minutes,” Steve said, gesturing to theclosed door. “But I know he fell asleep maybe ten minutes ago. Hisbreathing changed. Relaxed." 

Stark stared at him for a coupleof seconds, utterly still, and then shook his head and turned away, muttering,"Right. You know the sound of his breathing. Of course. Okay. JARVIS, checkwith Cho about migraine options and what we can do without her physicallyexamining him. And tell me the second he pushes the curtain back.”

“Of course, sir,”JARVIS assured him. 

Stark didn’t seem at allreassured. He took a couple of abortive steps, one direction and then theother, obviously worried about Threetoo and not knowing what to do with himselfwhen he couldn’t help.

Steve was familiar with thefeeling. He raised the tray of food into Stark’s eye line and said, “I’mguessing this was your lunch as well as his?" 

Tony stopped, narrowing his eyes,and said, "I know for a fact that he did not have a chance to tell youit’s your job to make sure I eat. And it’s not your job. Or his.”

“Okay,” Steve saidagreeably. “But there’s this food that’s gonna go to waste, since–" 

Steve stopped short, experiencinga weird retrospective recognition as the words I know you’re notgoing to feed this to him if it’s not fresh occurred to him. Theblueberries DUM-E had brought to him, a carton discarded half-full. All theones left had been crushed or oddly shaped or otherwise imperfect. And Steveknew that Bucky liked blueberries. He was willing to bet that Tony knew it,too, and only gave him the best.

Stark ran a hand through his hairand then nodded, gesturing toward the stairs to the lower level. "Yeah,okay. I want the actual story on you and him–and, hey, medical history. Youknow his?" 

"Uh,” Steve said.“Well, up to 1945, I guess. Roughly.”

Stark raised his eyebrows, butdidn’t ask any more questions until they were down in the kitchen, the tray onthe island between them. Tony waved Steve toward a stool, so he perched therewhile Tony paced around, fetching drinks and napkins and setting the dish ofbrightly-colored bon bons pointedly to one side before he picked up a crackerfrom the tray and popped it into his mouth, waving at Steve to follow suit. 

“So,” Tony said.“From the beginning.”

“Well,” Steve said,building a tiny cracker-and-chicken-and-cheese sandwich from the tray. “Myfolks were enslaved in exchange for passage from Ireland in 1916…" 

He expected Tony to get impatientand tell him to talk about Bucky, or the war, but Tony just nodded, watchinghim intently and continuing to eat, so Steve kept talking between bites,explaining that his mother had been pregnant with him when his father waskilled in the Great War and was emancipated as his death benefit. He told himhow Bucky’s family had been better off, how he and Bucky had lived only a fewblocks apart but in subtly different worlds, since the Barneses’ flat had beenquite a different place from the tenement apartment Steve shared with his ma.

"I always knew where I washeaded,” Steve said. “Ma didn’t like it, didn’t want that for me,but… times were hard, and me being sick a lot didn’t make it any easier. Butwhen Bucky was sixteen, he suddenly just started talking about doing the same,and that–he didn’t have to do that. But I… I was already crazy about him,and he made it sound like an adventure, like we’d…" 

Steve shook his head. "So Ididn’t argue. And I didn’t realize until after we’d done it that he… he wascoming with me because he felt the same way I did. Then it was too late for usto–" 

Steve glanced at Stark, who wasfrowning into midair and rubbing a piece of cheese into fragments between histhumb and finger, and did not explain about the cock-lock.

"Well. We saw each other asmuch as we could, but service didn’t leave us much free time. And then thewar… Buck got put down for the slave draft right away, although they didn’ttake him for training until the middle of '42. Me, I kept trying to get myselfon the list, but no dice. I was 4F, unfit.”

That got Stark to look at him,his gaze raking meaningfully up and down as he chewed another cracker. Stevedid not blush. 

“Before Dr. Erskine andHoward got involved, I was five foot four, maybe a hundred pounds dripping wet.Asthma, family history of diabetes, TB exposure, touch of heart arrhythmia eversince I had scarlet fever as a kid. But they had this experimental program, andDr. Erskine decided that I was the perfect test subject, so…” Steve madea little ta-da! gesture at himself.

“So that’s how you got intothe war,” Stark said. “But Barnes was already in the 107th by then,straight infantry.  Already deployed?”

Steve nodded. “I, uh…Erskine was killed by a Nazi agent–HYDRA, their deep science division–and noone could replicate what he’d done. They sent me to a lab for a while to studyme, what the serum actually changed and all, see if they could find  a way to reverse engineer it. No luck, and Iwas stuck there until Howard pulled me out and started bringing me around tolook good in uniform for whoever he was doing deals with. He brought me alongto Europe, into Italy when he went to meet up with the SSR brass there, andthat’s how I found out most of the 107th had been captured by HYDRA’s own shocktroops. The ones taken were mostly slaves. No one was planning on rescuingthem, and Bucky was… unaccounted for. So I, uh… I convinced Howard to dropme into Austria to go find them." 

Stark stared at him. "Dropyou…”

“From a plane,” Stevesupplied, although he had a feeling that that wasn’t really what Stark washaving difficulties with. “I mean, with a parachute, and some prototypegear. That was part of why he brought me along, to model and test some stuff hewas developing for the Army." 

Including the ridiculouscombination thermal underwear and partial body armor which Howard had insistedon getting up in a gaudy American flag design, but Steve wasn’t going todescribe that to Stark if he could possibly avoid it. 

Well. There was the silver liningto Bucky’s amnesia, because God knew otherwise he would probably remember everyinch of that outfit in loving detail and would feel no compunction indescribing it. He’d had a funny fascination with it, even after Howardredesigned it into something Steve didn’t have to cover with fatigue pants anda leather jacket to be halfway decent in public. He’d bitched from time to timeabout the hazards of Steve’s anti-camouflage, but he never actually lobbied forSteve to change to something more practical.

Stark had his head in his hands,and Steve dragged himself back to the point. "That’s where–I think thathas to be when he–he got… changed. So he survived what happenedafterward.”

Stark’s head jerked up at that.“He wasn’t…" 

Steve shook his head. "Asfar as I know, the US never tried again after me. Howard sure hadn’t draggedalong his Vita-Ray machine to Europe. But Bucky had been taken away from theother prisoners–they said the ones who got taken away never came back, but Ifound him. Strapped down on a table. I think… Zola. Arnim Zola, one of thetop HYDRA scientists, he’d–I think he’d done something to him.”

Steve had known the least part ofit: that Bucky was cock-locked, after that. He hadn’t pressed to know what Zolahad done beyond that, and it was obvious now that that had been by far theleast of it. 

“Even at the time, I had anidea there was something, but I never… we didn’t talk about it, and he saidhe wanted to stay in, wanted to come with me and keep fighting HYDRA. The SSRput us on that directly, a strike force that just went after HYDRA bases anddestroyed them however we could. Behind enemy lines like that, it was better tosend slaves–at least if we got captured by regular army, we had someprotections under the Geneva Convention, more than free soldiers. ObviouslyHYDRA didn’t care about that, but still better us than anybody else. We weretrying to capture Zola himself when Buck–when he fell. But he survived, whichmeans…”

Stark looked away. “Yousaid… as a sniper, you said…" 

"Yeah,” Steve said,swallowing hard. “Yeah, I think… I never fought beside him before Zolagot him, and I didn’t really know what a normal sharpshooter was like. But Ithink he… he was really something special. So maybe that was… a sign, and Ijust didn’t get it.”

There was a little silence. Steveforced himself to eat another few tidbits off the tray, thinking of rations andBucky’s lean and hungry look during the war, smoking all of Steve’s cigaretterations as well as his own. Had he been starving then, the way Steve would onnormal rations? Had Steve been letting Bucky go hungry while he wolfed downtriple rations in front of him? 

“Bone density,” Starksaid. “What about–bone density? Dr. Cho noticed something about his bonedensity that made her realize he needed the same stuff as you to beanesthetized. What was that about?”

Steve frowned, thinking about theway Bucky had held his rifle. Recoil couldn’t have done what the shield did,could it? But then… she’d been working on what was left of his left arm.Whatever impacts that had been taking must have been after.

“My hands,” Steve said,showing Stark his palms, as if it would be visible. “I, uh… I hadthis… shield. And I used to throw it, catch it on a ricochet–” Stevestruck the palm of his left hand with the side of his right, demonstrating.“It hurt like hell at first. I got better at the angles, but… apparentlymy bone density is a lot higher right there, too. My body adapted." 

Stark nodded, snagged a couple ofcubes of cheese and slapped them into his mouth. "Okay. And the anestheticthing? Tell me whatever you know about that, in case we need to tinker aroundgetting him a headache remedy.”

“Well, my metabolism isapparently four times faster than normal?” Steve offered. “I, uh… Ihad to have minor surgery once, at Alamogordo. Howard figured out how to keep meunder–of course, that was ether gas, I don’t think they use thatanymore?" 

Stark thankfully didn’t ask himwhat the surgery had been, just started questioning him about the ether.

Threetoo woke up feeling groggyand halfway between sick and starving. Everything was dark and warm and…soft, and for a moment he thought that he could just snuggle in and go back tosleep, and then the memory slammed into him like– 

Like a fire extinguisher,knocking him flat.

Steve. Hismaster had brought Steve to the penthouse, to be his second bedslave, forThreetoo to train. Instead of doing anything useful, Threetoo had been seizedwith the punishment pain, worse than it had ever been, so bad he could hardlystay upright. He had begged off immediately, and left his master to show Stevearound, to get him settled.

Threetoo’s mind’s eye suppliedvisions of Steve kneeling by his master’s feet, his master gently explainingthat he was safe here while feeding Steve his lunch, running his fingersthrough the dark gold of Steve’s hair and running his hands over Steve’sperfectly smooth skin. For a weak, cowardly moment Threetoo considered hidinguntil he provoked his master into coming to find him, but he rejected thatthought as soon as it formed. 

This was Threetoo’s project, as much as his master’s. And if his master was pleased to have Steve,pleased to touch and talk to him and teach him, then that was all to the good,because his master would be happy, and Steve would be safe and good.

Threetoo tugged his curtain back,letting in what turned out to be less light than he expected. That wasn’t bad,and even if it was, he was going to go and find them and help teach Stevewhatever he needed to learn, no matter how badly it hurt. 

Before he could even climb out ofthe pillow box, JARVIS said, "Please stay where you are, 32557038. Mr.Stark is on his way to speak to you.”

Threetoo winced, curling down,and the throb in his head that had only just died away started up again. 

“Hey,” his master said,only seconds later. “Hey, sweetheart. On a scale of zero to ten, with zerobeing "doesn’t hurt at all” and ten being “I cannot move or signbecause I am in so much pain and I need urgent medical care or I mightdie,” how’s your head right now?“

Threetoo raised his head to lookat his master, mentally assigning ten to the otherwiseindescribable experience of the day before. He raised two fingers. 

"Mm, two means you onlynotice it when you focus on it. Is that right?”

Threetoo raised a third finger. 

“Okay,” his mastersaid, smiling a little stiffly and settling a warm hand on the back of hisneck. “Thank you for telling me that, Threetoo. Good data. I’ll get you acopy of the scale so you can assign numbers consistently going forward. Before,when you came in here to lie down, what number was that?”

Threetoo winced. His mastersqueezed gently on his neck, rubbing firmly with his thumb and finger.“Let’s say nine is 'can barely move or think because of pain’ and eight is'pain is so severe it’s hard to think, talk, or listen, and very hard to moveor do anything else.’ Do I need to describe seven?" 

Threetoo shook his head the tinybit that his master’s grip allowed and signed, eight.

"Eight is a lot,” hismaster said quietly. “Eight is way more than I ever want you to feelwithout telling me about it, because eight means we should be doing everythingwe can to make it better as soon as possible. I mean, I’d like to be doingsomething about three right now, but Dr. Cho says all she can do reliably atthis point is make you unconscious, so it’s probably overkill for athree." 

Threetoo stared at him. Hismaster hadn’t actually asked him a question, so he technically didn’t have toreply. That was a good thing, because he had no idea what to say.

"Have you been havingheadaches that get really intense, that make it painful to see light? Make youfeel sick? Maybe cause other weird effects? Make you feel too cold or hot, orsee lights in your peripheral vision, or…" 

Threetoo nodded slowly.

"Okay,” his mastersaid. “I wish you would have told me about that, but to be fair I didn’tthink to ask. Those headaches are called migraines, sweetheart. They happensometimes if you’ve had a head injury, which I think you probably had evenbefore yesterday. They also happen sometimes just for no reason. Lots of peopleget them, and I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to make sure that they don’thappen at all, but we can at least get you some pain relief when they do happen,even if it’s only making sure that we help you go to sleep right away when itgets bad. Being in pain isn’t good for you, it’s just like beingpunished–" 

Threetoo’s lips parted, his handtwitched, and then he looked sharply away.

His master’s hand tightened, thenwent back to the slow, rhythmic rubbing. 

"Threetoo,” his mastersaid quietly. “Look at me, please.”

Threetoo dragged his gaze up tohis master’s, trying not to tremble, trying not to even breathe. His masterlooked tired again, the way he had yesterday, and nearly as unhappy. 

“Threetoo, sweetheart,project number one,” he said softly. “Did you think you were beingpunished?”

Threetoo closed his eyes andnodded. 

What else could it mean? Itwasn’t an injury–he hadn’t known about migraines untilhis master told him–so it had to be a punishment, didn’t it? Masters could dothings from far away, through chips and… and other things.

“Threetoo,” his mastersaid, his voice very quiet and small now. “Did you think I was punishingyou by making your head hurt like that? And not telling you why, or what youdid wrong, and talking all the time about not wanting to ever punish you, andpunishing you anyway?" 

Threetoo squeezed his eyes shuttighter, feeling them sting with tears, and shook his head hard. He raised hishand to sign no, and then–because he knew his masterneeded good data–I thought maybe. At first. But you said. So I knewit wasn’t you. Because you wouldn’t.

"Okay,” his master saidquietly, and there was a press of lips against his forehead that didn’t stopthe throbbing in his head from rising into what was probably a four.“Okay, I… I’m glad. But… who did you think was punishing you? Or wasit just… cosmic punishment, floating around randomly?" 

Threetoo swallowed. He hadn’t thoughtabout it, really, but… he hadthought–believed–known–that the pain was punishment,even while he knew his master wouldn’t inflict pain on him. And no one else wasauthorized by his master to do so; no former master held that power over himany longer.

And that only left one personresponsible. One person who had access to him and definitely had no right tointerfere with his master’s goals by inflicting pain on his master’snumber one project.

Me, Threetoosigned, before falling back to the safety of referring to himself bydesignation instead. 3-2. 3-2 punished. 3-2 knew 3-2deserved.

"Oh–” his mastermoved, and then his arms were around Threetoo, drawing him up out of thepillows and into his master’s lap, cuddling him close against his master’schest. “Okay, so. On the one hand–I really really don’t want you to dothat, Threetoo. Even if you know you’ve done something wrong, even if it seemsreally bad, I… I don’t want you to hurt yourself, not in any way, ever. Okay?Because I want you to heal and get better and be safe. Right?" 

Threetoo hid his face against hismaster’s chest, nodding. He did know that. He did, and his stomach was a stone,his whole spine and skull ablaze with tension and pain because he knew he haddone what his master didn’t want.

"And on the other hand, andthis is the really important hand right now–” His master’s actual handstroked down his spine and back up to the nape of his neck, then down again. 

“I need you to remember thatit was never punishment, Threetoo. It was never anyone’s fault, includingyours. Especially yours. Even if you thought you were punishing yourself–itwasn’t punishment, and it wasn’t your fault. It was just a fact about your bodythat we didn’t understand yet. But it’s not your fault.”

Threetoo didn’t want tocontradict his master, but… 

He raised his hand, enough sothat JARVIS could see it if not his master, and signed, Occurrencenot random. Correlated to infractions.

“Mm,” his master said,still petting up and down his spine. “Well, hey, guess what, correlationdoes not equal causation. That’s science, baby. I’m not gonna ask you to layout for me what infractions you think you’ve been committing, but whatever theywere, I bet your migraines also correlate with you being stressed because youthought you did something wrong. Stress, worry, that cando a lot of things to your body. Raises your blood pressure. Brings onmigraines, sometimes, if that’s what your body’s predisposed to." 

Threetoo leaned against hismaster, and breathed, and felt the pain and tension subsiding under hismaster’s touch. That had happened before–his master had touched him gently,reassured him, and if the pain–the migraine–was only justbeginning when he did it, then it might stop. Because he stopped being worriedwhen his master touched him. Because it was early enough in whateverphysiological process made up a migraine to short-circuit it. Sometimes hismaster’s touch didn’t help: when the pain was already very bad. When theprocess was too far along.

Not a punishment. Just a fact.Just his body. 

Threetoo signed, Oh.

His master laughed a little."Yeah. Oh. Hey, what’s your plant doing over there? You want it back onthe shelf before you have your lunch?" 

Threetoo nodded against hismaster’s shoulder, and his master stayed still for a moment before gentlypushing Threetoo to sit up on his own. His master got the plant and brought itto Threetoo, and Threetoo waded through the pillows and set it back up on theshelf. When he came back to the edge, his master was holding a lunch tray withsomething new on it–little irregular balls, something dark studded withrainbow-colored bits like candy.

"Yeah, I see you eyeing thesweets,” his master said, sounding amused. “One of the cooks madethose up for you special to help you get blueberries and maximum calories atthe same time. And in honor of you having such a rough day yesterday. You wantto try one? It’s got blueberries in it, but it’s not an actual blueberry." 

Threetoo nodded, curious andfascinated. A treat–from his master, but also from someone other than hismaster. Someone he’d never met, who was supporting his master’s project, andcared that he’d had a rough day.

It was sweet, and the rainbowsprinkles were a little crunchy, but it was chewy and tart, too, a burst ofintense flavor. Threetoo showed his master his upraised thumb.

"Good, well, the rest ofthem are for after you eat some protein,” his master said firmly, andThreetoo nodded obediently and settled to the work of being fed. 

Rogers wasn’t just outside thebedslave’s room, where Tony had barely managed to scrape him off after hefollowed Tony upstairs. He’d told himself, in the fraction of a second he hadto think about it before he was wholly focused on Threetoo, that it was good toknow he would have a chaperone for this.

Clearly that hadn’t lasted long;he reran the conversation in his head, trying to work out what Rogers wouldhave heard, as he walked out of his bedroom and looked around. He was nowhereobvious. 

“J?”

“You may want to check theguest room." 

Tony rubbed his eyes, feelingstupidly exhausted for a moment. Whatever was going on with Rogers, he didn’twant to deal with it–but Tony had taken responsibility for him, and Rogers wasa mistreated slave too. He deserved to be looked after, and Tony had separatedhim from everyone else who could do the job. It was necessary, in order tomaintain the illusion that Tony was inflicting some suitable correction uponhis would-be murderer, but it meant that Tony was the only person left to dothis.

So. He would do this, obviously. 

He tapped at the door of theguest room, and opened it a few inches when there was no answer.

It was nearly as dark inside asThreetoo’s bed, but he heard a soft rustling of clothing: Rogers getting to hisfeet. "Mr. Stark? Did you need me for something?" 

"Uh, not really,” Tonysaid, but he pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped into the dimroom. Rogers was standing in one of the near corners, where he might not beimmediately seen from the doorway. “Were you… hiding?”

Rogers shrugged stiffly, lookingaway. “Seems like I shouldn’t let him see me, don’t you think?" 

"No, it’s good–”Rogers flinched, turning half away with his head down and shoulders up, andTony stopped short.

Clearly Rogers had heard at leastpart of his conversation with Threetoo, and if he heard any of it at all, he’dhave heard the part where Threetoo was at an eight on the pain scale earlier.When Tony thought he was having some kind of programming-tension-freakout whichwas, in reality, an excruciating migraine. Probably still caused by the stressof pushing at his programming, and therefore by the sight of Rogers. 

“Okay, maybe we should becareful how much he sees you until he gets used to you, but that doesn’t meanyou have to hide in a dark room. He’s napping again, for one thing, and JARVIScan help you avoid him if you really need to. God knows there’s enough space inthe penthouse for the two of you not to see each other.”

Rogers shrugged stiffly. “Isthere somewhere else I should be, Mr. Stark?" 

Tony pressed the heel of his handto his brow, trying to push back his own incipient headache. "Jesus, youlive in my bedroom and I have to use your first name at least to Threetoo. Callme Tony, all right?”

“Tony,” Rogers echoed,mechanically, dutifully. “Thank you." 

Tony shook his head, turningaway. "Okay, right, stand around in the dark if you–” He’d made itjust to the threshold when Rogers spoke behind him, his voice expressive nownearly to the point of desperation.

“Tony, I’m sorry.”

Tony froze. 

“I–I don’t think I saidthat, before,” Rogers went on. “But I tried to killyou and I’m so sorry. I would have–it was wrong. I know I was wrongabout you. I knew that already, but listening to you talking to him–you’re sogood with him. Not just kind; you know how to help him. I couldn’t do this forhim like you do, I…”

The rush of hideous sinceritytrailed off, and a second later Tony managed to snap out of his horrifiedparalysis. 

“Well, hey, not everyone canbe a billionaire playboy genius with a heart of gold,” Tony said in hismost careless style. “Don’t beat yourself up just because you’re not asgood as me, no one is. JARVIS, lights.”

The lights came up, and Tonywalked out without looking back to see the results of his words, or the refugehe’d deprived Rogers of. He was too desperate to get back to his lab and findsomething, anything, to scour away the sound of Rogers being every bit aswrongly grateful to him as Threetoo was–and without the excuse of whatevercombination of brainwashing and brain damage had madeThreetoo who he was. 

It had been barely more than aday, and he’d already managed to break Rogers from a berserker bent on freedomor death to… this. Apologizing to the man who made the StarkChip.

This was why he didn’t meet theslaves he was involved in rescuing. This was why he definitely didn’t move them into the penthouse. And this was why he neededto get Threetoo more attached to Steve than to his master as fast as humanlypossible–so he could get both of them the hell away from him. So he could stopcorroding them just by being who and what he was anywhere near them.

“J, see if you can get athousand liquid calories into Threetoo in the next four hours? Things to do.Places to be." 

Anywhere but here.

1. The pain scale Tony is teaching Threetoo is this one. I figured Threetoo would have an easier time processing something that focused on how pain affected his functioning than a subjective measurement of his own suffering.

2. The blueberry bonbons are 100% the ones @rubynye sent me last summer around the time I was writing this chapter, so if you are jealous of Threetoo’s dessert, ask her for the recipe!

[theeurekaproject]

Orestes et Electra

"She's kinda cute." Ace said. "The girl, I mean."

Lyra stood in the middle of the spaceport, gazing through the skylight. Her black clothes stood out like a sore thumb in the utilitarian gray of the place, and passing Ministratora castes gave her a wide berth, but she didn't seem to care much. She just looked up through the glass with a rapturous expression, like she was staring at heaven itself instead of the thick, polluted clouds that obscured the sun.

"I guess," T shrugged. "Not really my type.” He wasn’t lying—Lyra was not his type—but she seemed to have an intoxicating quality about her anyway, something T didn’t want to share with Ace.

"Her hair is pretty,” Ace said.

"You say that about every girl you meet.”

"Says the guy who like the green chick from the new Ultores movie," Ace countered.

"Because she's a badass," TB-2215 said. "Besides, she's not even from Ultores, she's from Custodes de Galaxia-"

"And the princess from Stella Bella-"

"She's a badass, too. And talk about pretty hair-"

"Talk about out of your league. And you tell me Acidalia is too classy for me."

"See," T said, "the main difference between crushing on fictional characters and crushing on the Imperatrix is that the fictional characters don't exist."

"'Fictional characters don't exist' isn't what you said when you were crying at Infinitum Bellum," Ace said.

"I did not cry." (Admittedly, he had cried. But everyone in the spaceport did not need to be made aware of this, and besides, it didn't really matter.)

"I was there. You can't hide from me," he replied. "I think you're the only person who could shoot down six people, and then start hysterically sobbing because they killed off-"

"Hey, what's Lyra doing?" he asked loudly, interrupting Ace. "Go talk to her if you think she's so cute. Go on, leave me alone."

"I would, but..." he said slowly, "I mean, they're already looking at her enough. Aren't we supposed to be being inconspicuous?"

"Just go." T lightly nudged him. "Don't be obnoxious. She's supposed to be your pregnant girlfriend, isn't she? Go."

"You're all business lately," he said. "What's up with you?"

T eyed him. "You know exactly what's up. I'm not talking about this further. Not here."

"Right, right," Ace sighed. In a quieter tone, he added, "She'll be okay, you know."

"No, I don't," T retorted. "It's not a guarantee."

"I've seen that woman with a blaster. She shot down twelve people in about five seconds while wearing a tiara of flowers. If there's one person on the planet who can stay alive, it's-"

"Keep your voice down. And not even the most skilled marksman could survive a twenty-person ambush with no backup."

"Andromeda will send backup," Ace said.

T sighed. "But how long will it take? Cassandra’s useless.”

"I don't know. I wouldn't stress about it," he replied. "Things like this have happened before. Remember last week?"

"Yeah," T said, "but Cassiopeia is different. She's an idiot. I think her IQ is the same as the kitten we snuck onto the ship when we were, what, 10? Her plans aren't so much 'incoherent' as 'nonexistent.' You saw what she did— just grabbed-"

He bit his tongue suddenly. Talking about this here was a bad idea. He didn't mention his sisters' names. Cassiopeia on its own was common enough that he could have been referring to any girl, but if he brought up the Imperials, they'd all know exactly who he was talking about—and it was never a good idea to clue in everyone else to private matters.

¨My point is,"he said softly, "my mother is a lot smarter, and a lot more powerful, than Cassiopeia ever was."

At that moment, he heard his sister's name, broadcast in a cool, feminine voice, and he jumped six inches.

"Relax," Ace said. "They're talking about Mars."

He was right: they were just announcing the 1815 flights to Acidalia, Utopia, and Arcadia Planitia—the place she was named after, not the Imperatrix. He checked their tickets—1830. They were scheduled to board in fifteen minutes.

"We better get going," he said. He wondered, briefly, what David Seren himself had thought when he left the planet sixteen years ago—except he actually had a baby with him. Had he expected that he wouldn't return to his home for the next decade and a half? Had he been nervous?

T decided not to think about it too much. He had been reluctant about this whole ridiculous thing in the first place, and anxious about what it would mean to leave Eleutheria unsure of when he was coming back. How long would it take for his squadron to notice he was missing? What if they went searching for him? What if they thought something bad had happened to them both?

He had grown up with these men. They were more brothers than anything else. They'd spent their whole childhood play-fighting, having movie nights, and talking about girls in between school and battle. They were the lucky ones—the sons of the elite, the TB strategists and the AX tech specialists, both immunes, neither concerned whatsoever about death. Maybe they should have been.

He remembered staying up late and listening to stories about distant worlds with the older boys who seemed like they knew the whole galaxy; they'd tell tales of planets with temperatures so low liquid tetraoxygen sloshed around in the seas and burned all the living things it touched, places so rich in carbon and so high in pressure it snowed solid diamonds, the gas giant that moved so fast it rained molten glass sideways. His favorite was the tidally locked planet, with one side trapped in eternal night, and the other so blisteringly hot it was an ocean of lava where the clouds were made of rubies and sapphires. He was always so jealous of the men who actually got to see these strange, alien worlds, and the creatures—or the people, even—who lived on them.

More than once, one of the lower ranking men, someone who actually got to experience the rest of the galaxy, would go missing. They might return a few days later, wide-eyed and skittish; other times they'd simply vanish. Those stories were more fables to be told around the faux-campfires of lights the blasters made when they were charging—tales of ancient alien ruins, of beautiful women with green skin, of life beyond the two known sentient species in the galaxy. Life beyond the Mira.

T didn't think he'd ever really laid eyes on the people who called themselves the Mira, but the tales told about them ranged from hideous monsters to almost fae-like creatures. They were sparkly purple people, and then they were hideous, psychotic animals with no humanity left in their strange, gelatinous minds.

It was probably a little of both.

The propaganda portrayed them as savages, but propaganda always did that. The older men recalled tales of nights with beautiful alien women, but TB-2115 couldn't help but doubt that, too (especially since every eyewitness had described them as "cold," "wet," and "icy to the touch" regardless of their perspective.) The Mira were an enigma.

He always thought they were interesting. The researchers—the xenolinguists, the biological weapons research squad, the historians—were always more appealing to him than the fighters he was supposed to idolize. His specialty—his purpose—was always strategy, military logic. If we put those soldiers there, how many people could die? If we launched the pox now, how many would it infect? He played games of war like they played games of chess—the TB units were the grandmasters, the rest of the army the pawns, Eleutheria the king they protected. But T always found chess boring.

One could only talk so often about endless death and destruction before it got to their head. He may have been a lucky one when it came to his chances of death and dismemberment—virtually nonexistent—but the subject matter of his education was depressing. Playing with people's lives, deciding whether it was worth it to save the people you loved, weighing probabilities, taking the other path because one less soldier might die, putting other people through hell for a benefit so small it was hardy noticed—it wasn't worth the reduced chance of a terrible fate. Especially not when the hypothetical king was an unstable, broken mess of a country who couldn't move one square because every shift required intense thought and argument and the tension was building so thick that the piece would shatter into shards of broken porcelain regardless of what the rest of the board did.

Even here, at the spaceport, people were whispering. It was Lyra—a Cantator in the middle of a nice spaceport?—but something else, too. It was odd, venturing out into regular, civilian life—this talk would not have been tolerated in the barracks. Yet here everyone was, muttering. This planet was as tense as it could get. They were on a dangerous precipice, hovering over the edge of the void, about to fall.

"Hey, T," someone said, breaking him out of his reverie. "Time to go."

"Right," he said thickly. "Yeah."

"This is amazing," Lyra sighed. "I mean, stars, look at this!" She pulled a piece of her bubblegum-pink hair out of the neat braid she'd been trying to wrestle it into, seemingly forgetting about tidiness entirely. "Eleutheria's so big. And it's pretty. I guess that sounds stupid—that sounds stupid, doesn't it?—but when you only ever see the very bottom of the heap you don't have the full picture. The only parts I've ever seen of this world are the little tiny alleys in downtown Appalachia, and I never thought once about leaving, but..." Her voice trailed off. She continued to excitedly fidget, ignoring the stares she was receiving.

"At least she's excited," T muttered.

"Maybe it'll be a learning experience?" Ace suggested tentatively.

T glared at him and handed him a ticket. Lyra took her own, holding it so tight it crinkled and cracked slightly. A voice announced the presence of the 1830 Acidalian flight and she practically jumped.

They boarded slowly, cramming into the cheap seats while the foreign dignitaries in creamy off-while stepped delicately to the windowed deck. T already hated this. It smelled like spent fuel and stale sweat, and the outside seemed infinitely better. Mars, the little red dot in the distant sky, was very far away.

His meta vibrated in his pocket. Annoyed, he picked it up and glared at the little glowing name: Diana. His codename for Artemis. He scrambled to answer it, dropping his own visor on the way; two Suffragium giggled at him. Momentarily, he thought, If you knew who I was....

"Hello?" he asked, his voice breaking awkwardly.

"T?" she asked. “What’s up with Acidalia?”

He choked on his own saliva. "What?"

“She’s not picking up her meta.”

A chill ran down T’s spine. Acidalia always answered her metadit.

"I'm in the KC Interplanetary spaceport," he said. "That's close to the palace."

"Have you taken off yet?"

"I think we're about to. I'm getting off."

Ace and Lyra looked at each other, confused. "What?" Lyra asked. "Are you okay? Spacesick already? I mean, I heard that could happen-"

He shook his head. "Ace, get her off-planet. I have to go."

"What's she saying?" Ace asked. Now everyone in the section was staring at them—as if two soldiers and a Cantator weren't suspicious enough already.

"Not here," T muttered. "Talk to you later." He stood abruptly, putting his visor back on and pushing past the people in front of him. A Scientia glared at him for a second before he whipped out his stunner pistol and waved it in front of his face.

"TB sector soldier here. I'm on military business. Get out of the way."

She jumped aside, and suddenly the aisle was clear. The girls who had been laughing at him before looked at each other and shrunk back, smoothing their hair and settling down where he couldn't see them. He jumped over someone's turned-over backpack and raced past the upper decks.

"I know you!" said a girl in silver-white. She was young, maybe twelve or thirteen.

"Really?" he asked, not listening much. He scouted around a corner, drawing his gun. If someone caught on to where he was going—someone with the Nova—it would be less than ideal.

"I saw you at the coronation," she said, like it was obvious. "You were the one who talked with the Imperatrix." Then, in a deep whisper, she added, "do you like her? Aleskynn says you like her."

"Aleskynn doesn't know what she's on about," he replied. "That's not true." He pulled his mask down. One person had already recognized him; there were sure to be more.

"I think it would have been romantic," she sighed. "Forbidden love, and all..."

T cringed, wanting more than anything to mention their genetic relationship. "No thanks. Hey, kid, where's your mother?"

"Don't call me kid," she demanded, standing up to a height of a full 140 centimetrons. "I'm the daughter of a Negotia. You're just a standard soldier."

"You're going to get yourself killed," he snapped. "Get back up on deck and hide, you hear me? Now."

"What?" Her bright pink eyes turned a deep, dark purple. It was the latest trend—color-changing eyes. It looked just as fake and stupid on this girl as it did on Aleskynn when she went through her rebellious phase; TB-2115 had a picture of her with bright orange hair and sea-foam green eyes in his wallet.

"You heard me."

She backed away slightly before scampering up the pretty marble steps—so far apart from the standard gray steel the rest of the planet had to use—and glanced back at him.

"Go," he called. "Get out."

She vanished behind a featureless pillar of stone.

He darted around the corner, sticking close to the wall before bursting out of the ship's doors. Three Raedae in identical uniforms jumped backwards at the sight of him.

"Which one of you is in charge?" he demanded. Two of them glanced at their comrade nervously.

"Me," she said softly. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, far louder. "Get this ship off the ground immediately. Don't ask questions, just go." He flashed his visor at her, identifying himself as a high-ranking soldier. The Raeda didn't respond, signaling something to her comrades. All together, their steps strangely in line with one another, they surrounded the ship and signaled it for takeoff. He knew better than to stick around.

At least Ace and the Cantator would be safe for now. They couldn't exactly track them down once they were thousands of miles away on Mars, could they? Well, they probably could—it just wouldn't be worth the effort.

T sprinted off the runway and out of the spaceport, to the astonished looks of everyone around him. People fell out of his path once they realized who he was. They'd surely be talking about it later, but that didn't matter now.

The planet outside was a glowing array of dazzling blue-on-black lights. It was a pretty urban area, covered in countless art projects he could all recognize by name; the capitol city of Eleutheria was all beautiful neoclassicism mixed with neon. It seemed like it would never work, but it was stunning—everything from the ultraviolet lights to the bioluminescent flowers. Acidalia's touch was everywhere.

Pictures of his sister ran through his mind at the speed of sound, tripping over one another so quickly they came in flashes and vanished into thin air again. Braiding her dark hair on her balcony at night when they weren't supposed to be there, gossiping about the upper-class idiots she paraded around with, telling extravagant and exaggerated stories of places neither of them had any business being.

What would they do to her?

[the-fiction-witch]

Angel's centerfold

REAL LIFE

COUPLE TBS X READER

RATING SMUT

I sat at the desk trying desperately to stay awake, all I wanted on this earth was to go home crawl back into bed and sleep for the next five thousand years. 

"Oi! Posh boy! something up with ya?" Luke laughed as he came to sit beside me in his usual seat 

"Tired Luke" I yawned 

"Whatever just don't drool on me man" He warns 

"I won't" I sighed listening as the lesson began to start I glanced to the table next and one in front of mine seeing the empty seat, aww she's not here today. I sighed a little more and tried to focus on class until the door pushed open.

Revealing the cute plump body I had been missing, as she stood with her sweet curls bouncing on her shoulders, in her dark blue peated skirt stopping midthigh, her light blue fluffy jumper holding onto her body tightly, her blue and white striped thigh high socks and little sneakers

"Ummm angel" I smiled to myself 

"What did you say?" Luke laughed 

"Nothing!" I answered

"Sorry, I'm late sir," she smiled

"Its alright y/n come on in," he told her so she smiled and came putting her books on the table and sitting in her chair having to tuck her skirt around her a little so she wasn't showing too much even if she was showing a lot of her skin between her socks and her skirt, I smiled resting my head on my hand looking at her sweet body, looking at every inch of her, at the cute curve of her butt and those big squishy - "Mr Sangster what is the hypotenuse?"

"-Boobs"

"I'm sorry"

"Twenty-two!" I yelled quickly to cover up my mistake 

"Yes very good" He nodded going back to the lesson 

"I heard you" Luke smirked

"what?" I whispered 

"I heard you, you have a thing for y/n don't you?"

"shut up," I told him

"Maybe don't think too hard about her tits Thomas or you are gonna start drooling" He smirked 

"I'm not going to start drooling!" I whine as class finished so I gathered my stuff heading out of class 

"Hey, Y/n?" Luke smirked grabbing the strap of my bag so I couldn't run away 

"Ohh hey luke whats up?" she asks 

"Thomas wanted a word with you?" 

"Hi Thomas, what's the matter?" she smiled 

"Uhh ... you uhhhh... you look nice" I smiled to her 

"Aww thanks, Thomas, see you later" she smiles giving a little wave and going off to her next class

"what the hell was that about?" I complained

"I was giving you help, you need it" he laughs Walking off to his neck class.

I sighed as I laid in bed I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried I felt like an idiot for today, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now. I just pray y/n didn't hear me, or didn't see me looking at her, but as soon as I got her into my head I couldn't get her out she was all I wanted to think about those little skirts those cosy tops, those suggestive little socks, that exposed skin, those beautiful curves, those huge perfect breasts. I knew by the tightness off my shorts that I was hard just thinking about her and I couldn't go to sleep now not with it like this. So I sighed and pushed my shorts down opening my bedside draw getting the little bottle I had pumping some out into my hand and then wrapping my hard around myself. I smirked laying in bed as I slowly stroked up and down myself thinking about her little skirts about her beautiful body and how badly I wanted too rip those teasing clothes off her and see what she was hiding from me. I bit my mouth hard feeling pleasure crash over me like ocean waves the more I moved my hand and the more I thought about her, I would sell my soul for just five fucking minutes with that girl. Ohh I'd use every single second of it, I got faster and faster imagining my hand was her own sweet delicate hands imagining her here with me in those innocent little clothes

"Uuuhh!! Uuh uuummmm! Angel..." I groaned pulling my pillow over my face to keep my quiet so my parents or sister didn't hear me as I shot into my heavenly state my jizz spurting across my stomach as I came. I moved the pillow away and calmed down cleaning up and getting to bed.

I groaned as I wondered slowly around this supermarket, I already hate this place. I was up here for work and it sucks! There's no bars around here, no restaurants, I wasn't even in a hotel I was In a trailer In a field not far from the set. I don't even have wifi! I don't often use my phone or the computer but... I like the option of wifi. So I was looking around this supermarket for magazines, books, puzzle books, just something I could spend my time doing as I hadn't brought anything with me. I had found a few things and I stood at the magazine section picking up a couple motorcycle and music magazines before I checked knowone else was around grabbing a magazine from the top shelf and having a look inside, eh it wasn't that interesting so I put it back and grabbed the next one along flickering thought a moment well this one's a little better the girls are cuter.

"Thomas?" A voice asked I was confused I recognized that voice I turned and saw a familiar face...

"Y/n?" I asked hiding the magazine behind me so she didn't know what I had been looking at

"Awww you really don't age do you" she giggled "it's been years since I saw you"

"Yeah it's been ages" I blushed "you uhh you look amazing" I smiled as she looked much like she always did but her boobs where bigger her hair longer and she actually looked amazing better then school in her little low cut black dress

"Thank you" she smiled "what are you doing up here?'

"Ohh uhh working" I answered "do you uhh live up here then?"

"Yeah, I moved right after college"

"I see, well uhh its amazing to see you again"

"Yeah it's lovely to see you too" she smiled "hey uhh how about we meet up and catch up sometime while you're here, I know a little place" she smiled writing something on a little bit of paper from her handbag "if you like of course"

"Ohh I'd love to" I smiled Happily taking the number and other info that was on the paper "I'll uhh text you later when I know about when I'm working and stuff"

"Sure, and uhh I'd recommend the one on the end Thomas" she smiled looking at the top shelf before she winked at me and ran off to do her shopping I was confused but put this one back and got the one on the end, it was better but as I was flicking thought my eyes caught something it was a double page one a centerfold if you will. And... It was y/n!

Undoubtedly her, my sweet little angel laid on a bed in a black bra and panties with red lace, cut outs and black straps all over them, a sheer black neglige, her hair done and her make up beautiful... I knew I was hard just looking at it so I quickly shut it and put it in my basket hiding it under other items.

I sat in my trailer the lights out and most everyone gone to bed. Getting that magazine I couldn't stop looking at it, the girl I had a crush on for literally like all of school, who I couldn't deny I had thought about alot every now and again ever since, and this was her! The picture if my fantasy from my hormonal teenage years, and it was real this was really her my sweet little angel in barely anything.

All those years of wanting to rip those flirty clothes off and see what she was hiding, how she was showing me, and she told me to get this one she knew she was in it, she wanted me to look at her!

I had been hard since the supermarket but it wouldn't go down! Honestly part of that may have been i literally haven't stopped looking and or thinking about this picture since I got it. I smirked a little turning my light down enough I could see the picture but nothing else pushing down my sweatpants that I had worn to bed revealing my hard stiff erection, I grabbed a little bottle of lube I had brought with me.. for just in case, getting a little on my hand and slowly stroking looking at every inch of her, those beautiful lace panties, her tightly that bra was holding her huge breasts, those beautiful curves in that neglige. "Uuumm angel!" I groaned getting faster and faster ummmm I'd sell my fucking soul just to touch her, just to run my fingers across her skin to have her sat on my bed dressed like that... "Ohh god! Uhh angel" I groaned getting closer, umm the things I'd do to her, uh she wouldn't be able to walk right for a week if I had her here with me. I reached my peak and came it spurting across my bed I cleaned up and got tucked in bed still staring at that picture till I got my phone as I had put y/n's number in already and sent her a message so she had mine. She has responded

Angel 💖: hi Thomas, how's work going?

I smiled messaging back and forth with her for a while until we agreed to meet up for dinner tomorrow night after work.