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ragingpancake · 3 years

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I Will Try (To Fix You) - Part 2

It’s ten days before Carson deems Rodney “well enough” to return to his quarters. To date, this has been the longest infirmary stay that Rodney’s ever had and truthfully, he should probably stay a bit longer. His kidneys still aren’t functioning as well as they should, which means Carson’s been closely monitoring his water intake and urine output and a whole host of other things that John knows Rodney is embarrassed about. He’s also not entirely steady on his feet, courtesy of the muscle spams that wrack his calves and his thighs, bad enough sometimes to nearly bring him to tears. It’s ten days before John, Carson and Elizabeth have a very real, very difficult conversation about what a prolonged stay in the infirmary will likely do Rodney mentally, left with nothing really to occupy his time except, well, time to think about just how close he’d come to death. Carson is reluctant to release him; they haven’t yet gotten him back to solid foods and of course his kidney function is still a concern, but John knows Rodney, knows that he needs to be anywhere but here and he argues his case: Rodney can come stay in his quarters. His team is grounded for the foreseeable future, courtesy of John who is unwilling to go off-world without his entire team and while he’s offered to temporarily reassign Teyla and Ronon to Lorne, they share his line of thinking. Rodney can come stay with John, but he has his whole team who’ll be watching out for him, who will bring him for twice daily check ins, if needed, who will monitor any time spent in the lab, who just want Rodney to have some semblance of normalcy during his recovery. It must be an impassioned speech, because by the time he’s done, Elizabeth nods her consent and John finds for the first time in ten days, it’s a little easier to breath.

--- Rodney, predictably, complains about the arrangement. He’s not keen on having a babysitter and that hurts John’s stunted feelings more than he’d ever admit out loud. But when Carson makes it clear that the only option is an extended stay in the infirmary, he relents pretty easily and all that’s left is to prepare John’s quarters. Easy peasy. Right? Wrong. It turns out that the room John’s claimed for himself isn’t quite meant for two people. It’s small and while it’s fine for just him, he knows that it’s going to be too cramped, too claustrophobic and so he spends the eleventh day scouting out some of the larger quarters near the East Pier with Teyla, pretending to understand when she makes suggestions based on where the light from the rising sun falls and which room has the best view of the ocean, which she believes will aid in Rodney’s recovery. He’s never been much into new age bullshit that seems to be pretty common across two galaxies, but he’s willing to shove a couple of crystals up his own ass if it means getting Rodney better.

He enlists Ronon, Lorne and a couple of marines to help move their things. John leaves his own quarters to Wallace, Gregory and Barnes despite how uncomfortable the thought of them seeing his own personal effects makes him, and he takes Rodney’s room with Ronon and Lorne. Rodney, for his part, has a lot of stuff. It takes the better part of the afternoon to get everything moved over, including Rodney’s deceptively heavy prescription mattress, his four laptops and the whiteboard that he’d swiped from the labs within the first week of their arrival. John’s stuff, save for his own bed, mostly fits in a couple bags. By the time they’re finished, he’s tired, shoulders and back aching, reminding him just how fucking old he’s getting, but still, he trudges down to the infirmary, plastering a smile on his face for Rodney as he steps in through the paneled doors. “Hey buddy,” he greets. “Got us all set up in some new digs. Wait until you see the tub in this one,” he says, nodding as Carson comes over, Rodney’s chart in hand. “He all good to go, Doc?” “I suppose he’ll have to be, now won’t he?” He asks and there’s a scowl there that John cheerfully ignores. “I expect him back here at 10 and 2, Colonel. A minute late for either appointment and he’s back here, d’you understand?” “10 and 2, just like a steering wheel. Got it, doc. How about the food situation?” “Yeah, what he said,” Rodney frowns and John knows from previous experience just how miserable a clear liquid diet can be. “I’m alright with him startin’ on solids, but take it easy,” Carson warns. “Nothin’ too heavy,” and Rodney waves him off, but despite his lackadaisical nature, John really is taking this seriously, committing everything to memory. “Got it. We good?” Carson pauses for a moment before he sighs. “Aye. But not a moment late, Colonel!” He warns as Marie and Simpson come, pushing a wheelchair that Rodney tries to vehemently refuse. John settles a hand on his shoulder gently. “Hey, hey. C’mon. Easy. It’s a pretty long walk to the pier, alright? Let’s not push it too much on your first day.” “Traitor,” Rodney mutters under his breath and John actually does smile because it feels a little like it used to before those God damned Carneans. John steadies the wheelchair while Marie and Simpson maneuver Rodney into it and after what feels like forever, they’re finally on their way. “You did get my laptops, right?” “Yes, Rodney.” “And what about the Athosian soaps from the bathroom? Those were made specially for me by Gita and, and, and the medicinal properties-- “We got ‘em.” “My mattress?” “Of course.” Rodney harrumphs like maybe he’s expecting John to have forgotten something, as if John would ever. “What about—” “Your favorite red pen that you use to mark up all those damn physics journals? Yep. Got that too. We grabbed everything, buddy. And if there’s somethin’ you need that we don’t have, just say the word and we’ll make it happen.” Rodney falls strangely quiet at that. --- It’s easy to live with Rodney. Lorne had very nearly pissed himself from laughter when John said so after the first few days and honestly, John took a little offense to that on Rodney’s behalf. Sure, he’s messy and he’s loud and the longer he’s out, the more of his biting sarcasm is returning, but John’s all for it, especially when he considers the alternative. (And he does consider it, frequently, usually in the dead of night when he wakes up from nightmares of vomit and grey skin, of an antidote recovered too late). But honestly, save for the fact that John now has to deal with Rodney’s dirty clothes strewn across the room and the stupid whiteboard that takes up the space that John’s surf board should be occupying, not much has changed at all, a testament to just how much time the two of them had spent together even before this. John follows Carson’s instructions to a T, and okay, maybe that’s a little different too because John’s always been the one to avoid the infirmary at all costs when it comes to his own health and

well-being, but he’s not taking a chance with Rodney’s. He takes him to his appointments and at nights, when the muscle spasms seem to be the worst, John sits with him on that stupidly comfortable bed, kneading the tight muscles in his legs as he tries to distract Rodney with shitty 80s movies and random banter about anything and everything that he thinks will goad Rodney into a tirade that’ll take his mind off of the pain. He even lets Rodney have four hours a day in the labs, split into two hour segments with an hour break in between. Normalcy. That’s the goal here and Rodney’s always at his best when he’s in his element, berating scientists and defying all laws of physics. That’s where Rodney is when everything goes to hell. --- It’s been twenty days since the Carneans. Ten days of the two of them cohabitating, ten days of Rodney slowly working his way back to normal. He’s been subsisting entirely of power bars and MREs, which, while not entirely healthy has been cleared by Carson if only for the fact that they provide sustenance without being too taxing on Rodney’s still delicate system and John’s just thinking about whether or not he can try to convince Rodney to try something a little more substantial from the mess later that evening when the call comes in over the radio. “Zelenka to Colonel Sheppard, please respond.” He sounds harried and John closes the latest mission report from Lorne’s team, already on his feet and moving when he taps his comm. “Sheppard here, go ahead Doc.” “I need you in Science Lab 3 please. There is a… situation.” “What do you mean by situation, Radek?” But when Radek keys up his comm again, John can hear the panicked wheezing in the background and he picks it up to a swift jog. “I believe Rodney is having a panic attack,” he says. “I have tried to bring him around but nothing is working and I--.” “I’m on my way. Sheppard out.” He meets Ronon in the corridor and he doesn’t even have to say a word before the Satedan is altering his own course, following after John. They can hear it before they even open the door. Rodney’s on the verge of hyperventilating, the sound of his ragged breaths interspersed with pained moans and Ronon is quick to clear the lab of well meaning scientists who are gaping at the scene while Radek tries to shield Rodney from view as much as possible. “Hey, hey,” John says soothingly, trying to keep his voice calm despite the way his heart is beating against his ribcage. “I’m here, buddy. Rodney, look at me. Hey, hey,” and he reaches out, finger under Rodney’s chin as he tips his head up, wild blue eyes meeting hazel. John wants to take Rodney’s hand, but his arms are wrapped around his middle, clutching his stomach so tightly and John glances over at the toppled plate on the floor, shards of glass now mixed with what looks like not-meatloaf. “Talk to me, Doc,” John calls over his shoulder at Zelenka. “What the hell happened?” “He was out of power bars, but hungry, so Miko thought perhaps he might be enticed to eat by something from the mess, knowing that this,” he gestures, “was Rodney’s favorite. He managed a couple of bites and everything was fine until… until it was not.” “Cramps,” Rodney rasps, reaching out to grip John’s wrist painfully. “Cramps. Poison, I—I can’t--.” “Get Carson down here,” John snarls, voice softening as he turns back to Rodney. “Hey. Listen to me, buddy. Carson told us this could happen, remember? The cramps. That’s why we started light. You’re okay though. I promise, Rodney. You’re okay, I’m right here and I need you to breathe.” It takes a bit of manhandling but John manages to get Rodney up enough that he can slide behind the other, drawing Rodney back against his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths. “C’mon, buddy. Breathe with me. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Rodney.” That’s how Carson finds them a few moments later, Rodney trembling against the other, but thankfully no longer hyperventilating. “He’s alright,” John says, glancing up at Beckett. “Panic attack when

he tried to eat and cramped up.” “I thought—I thought--.” John pets through Rodney’s hair gently. “I know. You thought it happened again, but it didn’t, right? We’re gonna go down to the infirmary with Carson though and let him check you over so you can see for yourself.” “Easy, lad,” Carson says as Ronon comes over to help Rodney to his feet with more care than he’s shown anyone else, guiding him over to the gurney before he tugs John to his feet as well. “John—” Rodney rasps, the name catching his throat as the cramps hit again and he curls on his side, swallowing hard against the panic beginning to rise again. “I’m here,” John reminds him again, moving to take Rodney’s hand. “You’re alright, I promise.” And he is. He will be. John will be sure of that. --- The panic attacks don’t last long. He still cramps painfully when he eats, but the team is always with him at meal time to help him through it, John always, alwayseating a third of his food before switching his tray with Rodney’s for him to finish it, confident that there’s no poison. The effects of what had been done to him still linger, still present often and painfully, and sometimes, John doesn’t think what he’s doing is enough. That he should be doing more, that he should’ve done more back on that fucking planet to have saved Rodney from this entire ordeal. But Rodney’s getting better. John can see that when he goes longer and longer without a muscle spasm, or the first time he pees on his own and calls John in to see how clear it is, proof that his kidneys are finally starting to function normally. “You know,” Rodney says one night after they’ve pushed their beds close enough together that if they each scoot over to the edge, their shoulders are touching, “it probably won’t be too much longer until we can go back to our own quarters.” There’s an uncomfortable knot that twists itself up in John’s stomach at that but he swallows against the lump in his throat and says casually, “oh yeah? That’ll be cool. I guess.” “Yeah,” Rodney says and then he falls silent for a moment, as if waiting for something. Apparently, his impatience has returned full force because he doesn’t even give it a half a second before he’s speaking again. “I mean, unless we just… don’t?” Okay. That’s unexpected. “I just… this has been incredibly difficult, Colonel. Uh, John,” he corrects, “and you’ve… I know that this is probably because of some weird, misplaced guilt you’re harboring, because that’s how you are, Lieutenant Colonel Martyr, but… this has been okay… hasn’t it?” “Rodney, I--.” “I know I’m difficult. I’m messy and I’ll be going back to keeping weird hours soon enough and, and, and I know I can be annoying, but you’ve put up with that remarkably well and so I just thought--.” “I don’t want to go back to being alone,” John blurts out and he can feel the tension leaving Rodney’s body beside him. “Good. Me neither.” They fall into a comfortable silence then for a moment, the only sounds being their quiet breathing and the sound of the ocean waves through the open window. (Teyla was definitely right about picking this room.) “It’s not guilt,” John says after a moment. “I mean, not that I don’t feel guilty, because I should’ve never--.” He clears his throat and stops himself before he goes down that road. “You’re… I dunno. You’re McKay. Rodney. And I… when I found you that day, I thought you were dead,” and he can feel Rodney flinch at that, but he needs to get this out, he thinks. “I thought you’d died and I just… realized that I would’ve gone out of my fucking mind if you had, Rodney. Like, legitimately crazy because you’re… You’re you and I’m--. I’m yours. However you want me. If that means we forget this conversation ever happened and go back to how it was before all of this, I’m okay with that, but I just… I had to tell you because I came really fucking close to never getting another chance to.” Rodney is quiet, doesn’t say anything but after a moment, John can feel the other’s hand brush against his own before he

squeezes two of John’s fingers. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time in all the time we’ve known each other.” And John laugh out loud at that, an actual laugh, and as he does, he feels that knot inside of him loosen just a bit. “Which is to say,” Rodney continues, “that I… would very much like to notforget this happened. I… suppose that I’m yours too. Maybe I always have been.” John doesn’t know where they’ll go from here. He’s under no delusions that this will be easy, any of it, but when has it ever been? All that matters though is that they have time now to work through it, to figure it out together. Maybe they’ll fix each other.

#mcshep #hurt/comfort #hurt rodney mckay #whumped rodney mcay #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #stargate atlantis #fandom: sga #angst #poisoning #panic attack

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polyboros · 3 years

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bug fables roleswap au!

hi thank you @cyanopicacyanus most beloved i would LOVE to! fair warning to anyone reading the text under the cut that this au explanation will have spoilers for the entirety of bug fables! so if you’re someone who wants to go in entirely blind and hasn’t watched/played bug fables yet- don’t click!

similarly, this covers similar things to the original bug fables stories, including the themes and plots of the requests. so watch out if any of those bug you! (Bug You haha)

the central focus of the au is the swap between the three main characters: leif takes vi’s place, vi takes kabbu’s place, and kabbu takes leif’s place. however, it gets a little more funky from there, in the nature of telling a fun and fresh story AND preserving major & important parts of their original personalities and backstories!

this explanation will go over the characters, and then specific moments & such that i think would change as well! ft. vi & leif getting to do crime, as they deserve

VI AS KABBU

vi, her sister jaune, and a currently unnamed friend of theirs are from a hive outside of bugaria, beyond the wild swamplands. they all decide to go to bugaria to explore - vi for money and exploration, jaune to see the art there. on the way there, in the same fashion as kabbu’s master and bit, vi and jaune’s friend dies to the beast to protect them while they run away.

vi and jaune, fueled by grief and anger at the loss, have a VERY LARGE blowout fight that ends in jaune leaving the swamplands for their home hive, and vi continuing on to go to bugaria! wooooo

what you get here is. vi largely keeps her desire to prove herself and get rewards from exploring, but there’s an added layer of: “if i can just prove myself as an explorer, i can kill the beast, and show jaune that she was wrong and trying to go to bugaria was worth it all along.” (even if vi doesn’t fully believe herself that the loss was worth it! character nuance my beloved)

KABBU AS LEIF

HERE’S WHERE THINGS START TO GET FUNKY! stick with me here folks, because ghosts are going to be real and in your home (and in bugaria.)

it all starts with a change with what the roaches in snakemouth labs are researching - instead of trying to achieve immortality with cordyceps (which is relegated to another lab, which is a special tool that’ll help us later), the roaches in snakemouth were attempting to achieve immortality by finding a way to bind spirits to exist after death, subsequently to re-enter their bodies. snakemouth was chosen for this for the high concentration of magic that allowed this to be possible - magic that permeated beyond just where the labs were. however, no corpse fit the conditions for spirits to re-enter them, leaving tens of spirits lonely and wandering. eventually, they all ganged up on the roaches who left them this way and killed them!

enter: kabbu, his master, and bit, who entered snakemouth den during the reign of elizant the first to find the artifact! the same beat as leif and his exploration team in canon. they get ambushed by a spider while investigating, and kabbu wakes up decades later when leif & vi rescue him!

what happened in snakemouth den was this: all three of the exploration team that entered perished, including kabbu. due to the experiments going on in snakemouth, and the roaches’ adjustment to the area and its energy, all three of their spirits sustained after death, and All Three Of Them Went Into Kabbu’s Body! kabbu is fully unaware of this until his request is done, in which the final battle of snakemouth labs is not a zommoth, but an amalgamation of lost ghosts that kabbu (and master and bit) refuse to acknowledge any similarity too.

instead of using the royal we and slipping into “i” during his request, kabbu uses “i” most of the time, and slips into using “we” when he sees the amalgamation and realizes the truth about what happened to him and his old family. i have given the kabbu ghosts both metaphorical AND literal this time!

tl;dr: the theme of snakemouth labs is ghosts instead of zombies, and kabbu is very, very haunted.

LEIF AS VI

remember when i said that the cordyceps being in another lab would be my special tool that would help us later? yeah! so. the most important part of this is that both leif & muse are still alive! it hasn’t been decades, for him - he’s been around during elizant ii’s reign.

leif and muse were an explorer (muse) and scientist (leif) duo exploration team that was sent by elizant ii to study the lost sands and find clues on the roaches and the everlasting sapling. they were pretty good at it! and one day, near the sand castle gate, leif finds a cordyceps colony that acts a little weird, has some sort of magical ability. so he takes it back to his lab for isolated study!

while he’s studying it, bandits from the lost sands attack while muse is gone, hoping to find research, etc. to hand over to the wasps. the cordyceps’ tube keeping it temperate and lively is shattered, leif is heavily injured, and it isn’t looking good for him or the cordyceps. so they reach out to each other, and fuse into each other, and the cordyceps “patches up” leif. both of them are still kicking around in there! it’s a very confusing case of identity for a while, but in a similar case to canon, the cordyceps Wants to care about muse and the people leif cares about. this time they’re just aware of what they are!

HOWEVER. muse comes back! and leif fills muse in on the situation, but neither him nor the cordyceps are particularly interested in studying himself or the effects it could have on his body, or any form of self-preservation related to it - they’re mostly just content to take their blessings as it is. This Does Not Sit Well With Muse! they argue about it for a while, it causes a rough patch, and they both agree that it would be better if they took a while to think about it by themselves. for context, this happens about six or seven months before the bug fables canon Starts.

leif is also SUPER banned from the explorer’s association & science groups for unethical science practices, particularly when the queen herself condemns his actions (mostly after he refuses to share the information he gained about what this could mean for the everlasting sapling. the cordyceps’ dislike of the roaches and what they did to it sustains post-fusion!)

leif’s request, then, centers around him coming to terms with the idea that he can be both kind to himself as he is (him and the cordyceps, him-and-the-cordyceps) AND make sure that this fusion is healthy for him AND continue his work in some form. it’s all about accepting that although his response was reasonable for when he had it and his experiences, muse was also very right about the fact that he needed to take care of himself after that! and it’s also about reconciling with muse herself. they do NOT get divorced i promise they’re happily married and have a kid

OTHER FUN THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

this is longer than i thought it would be! but hey, here’s my favorite part - getting into some of the major/minor plot changes that result from the changes in the roleswap!

all of the characters keep their attack types! for the reasons explained (gestures above) in their plot. however, kabbu gets a ghost-related TP skill after his request is completed!

leif & vi don’t have a legal explorer’s permit until AFTER snakemouth den. vi isn’t allowed to get one by herself, and when leif offers to be her partner, he’s reminded that he is SUPER BANNED from doing that! so they both sneak into snakemouth den illegally to find the artifact and prove that they can be an exploration team, and along the way find kabbu. inside your local fucked up cave you will find a free moral compass and friend

also: both kabbu and leif have a SUPER weird reaction to areas with heavy magic/the artifacts/roach technology! in this thread, they also have a super fun reaction to seeing each other for the first time, while vi is Literally Just Sitting There. sorry vi you’re on a team with not one but TWO fucked up guys (affectionate) on it

vi’s request is similar to kabbu’s with setting up the gravesite in the swamplands, but team snakemouth also helps her write a letter to jaune! i think in a post-canon world jaune eventually comes to bugaria to see vi and they (after a very long talk and bribery via vi getting jaune into this hive’s art gallery) reconcile too.

muse is HERE and i like her SO MUCH. this isn’t much of a plot thing but she’s alive in this au and everybody gets to see how like. Much she definitely made the first move, etc. i think her and elizant ii are friends they have tea on saturdays

if you made it this far - thanks for reading!! this is an au i love dearly and have put a LOT of thought into and i hope to write some fic for it sometime!!

#kbitycus art #bug fables roleswap #<- this'll be my tag for it lmao #whew this was a lot #bug fables

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ka-writes · 3 years

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

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Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

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Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #sapnap #dream mcyt #tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #space au

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lambourngb · 3 years

Note

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates... and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight. This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before. Twice. Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah. He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself. What he likes. What he wants, outside of Alex. Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun. Light. Uncomplicated. Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker.

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!” Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have.

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex.

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena.

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two hours or so of work.

“You win this round, okay?”

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage.

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist.

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.”

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.”

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

#aewriting #michael guerin alien grief cactus #michael joins the dating world #online dating teaches you a lot #wip meme

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ghostiewriter · 4 years

Text

prologue | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ’s life is thrown upside down after a school trip. Now he just decide what to do about his newly found powers and discover just how much his life has changed.

Warnings: contains strong language, a teeny sliver of sexual references, just the three boys being dumbasses? a small smidge of angst (it barely counts) and some fighting, kinda amateur but he’ll learn eventually

Word Count: 8.2K (I’m so sorry)

A/N: ahhh so here’s the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a mess and it wasn’t meant to be this long but oh well! This is just to kinda set up the world, I promise the chapters won’t be this messy! There will be way more Kiara in the next chapter as well, don’t worry! Like I said, this is just a filler chapter! Also this is unedited and I am kinda unwell so lets hope this makes sense :) feel free to leave any feedback!!

masterlist // taglist // ao3

JJ prided himself in always loving an adventure. A random trip at 3am when one of his buds felt down? Hell yeah! An exploration through the streets of New York when he decided to ditch his Spanish final? Let’s go, dude! A spontaneous road trip with his boys during summer? JJ was down! But this? This just felt like some sick joke.

Admittedly, JJ wasn’t listening in class when the trip was announced. And as Pope liked to remind him every couple of minutes, this whole situation could have been avoided if he had listened in class. But can you blame the guy? A whole day off school to visit some big corporation uptown where he was getting a free lunch—JJ would be stupid to reject that. Yet, JJ should’ve known there would’ve been some catch, some flaw in this trip. And that flaw was that he had to spend the day walking around Cameron Industries, the biggest nerd fest on the East coast.

JJ was bored out of his mind.

Pope was ecstatic beyond belief.

John B was ready to punch JJ in the face if opened his mouth to complain one more time.

“Why call it a trip when all we do is listen to these dudes in lab coats droning on about some weird gene thing? Like c’mon! A trip is meant for relaxing. Where the fuck am I gonna relax around here, huh? The fucking gift shop—“

“Shut up,” John B hissed at the blonde, smacking JJ’s arm for good measure, to which the blond dramatically whined at. “Just please…shut up. You’ve got one more hour until lunch, alright? Don’t ruin this for him.”

JJ huffed as he glanced over at Pope, who was eagerly questioning every scientist they came across. As much as it pained him to agree with John B, he did have a point. There weren’t enough fingers in the world to count the amount of times JJ had dragged Pope into some anxiety-provoking, impulsive situation. The least he could do is suck it up a little and mope silently as they walk through countless fancy labs that probably each cost more than his apartment complex altogether.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so chuff,” JJ huffed, his fingers twisting the rings that adorned his hands—a force of habit when he was uncomfortable and bored. “You usually back me up on this kinda stuff—“ But JJ didn’t need to finish his question. Oh no, because the answer was right there.

JJ smirked as he turned to John B, one eyebrow raised in question. However, his friend seemed much more content staring at Sarah Cameron from where she stood near the front of the group, smiling towards the tour guide like they were close friends. Which they probably were considering they were standing in the building her father owned.

Ward Cameron. Renowned scientist, billionaire and founder of Cameron Industries. A true inspiration. What started as a hopeless experiment in his high school chemistry lab ended up forging Ward Cameron’s path to success in the biggest multibillion-dollar multinational corporation that held the future for chemical engineering. JJ just thought he was some lucky rich kid that had daddy’s money to support his dream.

And it was for that reason that JJ rolled his eyes, nudging his friend out of his daze. “You do know you don’t stand a chance, right?” JJ commented.

Harsh but true. JJ and the rest of the kids that attended this trip went to Midtown High School. True to its name, it was smack bang in the middle of two very different livelihoods. Uptown Queens: home to the kids who live of old money, designer clothes and trust funds. And Downtown Queens: home to working-middle class who would spend the rest of their lives making a sliver of the uptown folks’ wages.

Take a wild guess which area JJ is from.

However, some old dude in the 60s decided to try and bridge the gap between the classes and thus, the school was born. All it did was let each know how much they resented the other. Yet, John B had fallen into the alluded mind-set of that old geezer and set his eyes on Sarah Cameron, the most uptown chick you’ll get. And of course, JJ was there to remind him of that very fact and push him off that imaginary bridge. It was a fool’s hope to combine the uptown and downtown folk; it was a fool’s hope to try and make them get along. It won’t happen now nor ever.

John B flipped him off. JJ only grinned in response.

Nonetheless, that ended up being the most exciting part of the hour. JJ shuffled along at the back of the group, his eyes constantly wandering around the labs. Did he have any clue what any of it was? Hell no, but he was naturally curious and couldn’t help his hands from wandering. Sue him, he was a teenage boy with ADHD and a knack for getting into trouble—he was bound to do something stupid.

His interest in science perked up a bit when he noticed a small enclosure of what looked like completely normal spiders, yet as their tour guide spoke, they were anything but normal.

“Our team have been working on taking the genetic code of three separate species of arachnids and combining them to form a super-spider. One which can survive and reproduce and live as any other would. It is the first step in the future of genetic engineering and modification. With this technology, we could find cures to diseases that were deemed impossible to cure. We could form a stronger, better human race—“

“Isn’t that unethical?” A voice interrupted. Everyone’s head snapped towards the curly-haired girl that stood by Sarah Cameron’s side. JJ knew very little about her—considering this was honestly the first time he had seen her—and he wasn’t complaining…nor was he actually listening to what she was saying. “I mean, won’t this just introduce a future of designer babies and a superiority of the genetically modified over the natural?”

“I understand your concerns,” The tour guide—a young redhead who honestly didn’t look a day over twenty-two but then again, JJ guessed everyone around here was some sort of genius. “But I can assure you there are a number of protocols behind this research that would prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Can you really stop the rich from getting what they want?” Ironic considering she was a rich, uptown chick.

An awkward silence washed over the group before the teacher quickly cleared their throat and directed the tour guide to continue.

JJ—being the foolishly bored teenager he was—made his way over to the unknown girl, standing next to her as they looked at the spiders in the enclosure.

“Poor things.” She sighed sadly. JJ only raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You know,” He began, his voice smooth and suave—the usual JJ charm he used on girls. “I totally agree with you on all those…ethic…things…” He trailed off, risking a glance towards the girl who only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” She questioned, nodding her head for him to continue.

“Yeah, I mean, save the animals, am I right?” He grinned, nervously scratching the nape of his neck. The girl seemed unamused.

“Uh huh, sure thing, buddy.” She stated before turning to catch up with the group. But JJ’s voice stopped her once again.

“How about I take you out some time? And then you can tell me all about all this ethic stuff.” He proposed, his usual charming smirk on his lips. He was a lady’s man, he knew he was gorgeous and JJ would be a fool if he didn’t use it to his advantage. One small date to charm her before JJ wiggled his way into her bed, then boom—they never have to speak to each other again. Plus, this girl may be one of Sarah Cameron’s wee minions, but JJ didn’t let class get in the way of his ‘love’ life. He just resents the lot of those uptown kids in every other aspect of his life. No harm in fraternizing with the enemy, right? What other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s just a little bit of fun.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took a lot of self-control for JJ not to follow the movement. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the enclosure.

“Uh…Samantha?”

“Nice try, asshole.” And with that, she turned around to join the group.

JJ stood there, a little dumbfounded by the encounter. He was taken aback not only by the fact she had just rejected him, but with the sass in which she did so. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was a little hot, but he expected it. Uptown kids always thought there were better, superior to the downtown kids.

But JJ didn’t wallow in his rejection for long when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his hand. He glanced down, seeing a spider on the back of his hand and his instant reaction was to shake it off. “Little shit!” He hissed, looking down at the small bite mark on his skin.

“Hey, dude, you comin’?” He heard John B call out. He glanced around, unable to spot the spider. He shrugged, JJ has had worse than a small spider bite. He’ll survive.

“Yeah, I’m starving, let’s go!”

Little did JJ know that was his last day as a normal, hyperactive teen.

**********

“I’m telling you something is fucking wrong with me!”

Both boys looked at their blond friend with sceptic looks. It was Saturday morning and far too early to deal with JJ nonsense. Especially when they could barely understand what he was going on about. It was around 6am when John B and Pope received a very distressed call from JJ. Neither one was very sure for what reason, all they heard was ‘freaky’ and ‘fuck’ multiple times during the call. But he sounded like he was really going through something so they eventually went over—arriving at JJ’s place at 7:30am. JJ was too on edge to even try and call them out on it.

“Dude, breathe,” Pope muttered, watching JJ run holes in his carpet from how much he was pacing. “Calm down a little—“

“I can’t calm down, Pope!” JJ snapped, looking at his friends who seemed far too calm. “Like I don’t know if I am freaked out or pumped but just—“ He paused, seeing the look of confusion on his friends’ faces. He huffed and pulled his shirt off, looking at them expectedly. They didn’t react.

“JJ, did you really call us down here on SATURDAY MORNING because you have another birthmark that looks like George Clooney because I will literally murder you—“

“No, no!” JJ hissed before pointing down to his abs, and then his arms. Then he began flexing, yet he was met with blank expressions again.

“Dude, as much as I love staring at your abs, what the fuck are we meant to be looking at?” Pope asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“They are different!”

“They are?”

“They are!”

“Uh…how?”

JJ scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They are more defined!”

“…more defined?”

“Clearly!”

John B let out an unattractive snort, pushing his hair back as he leaned back against the wall, all his worry for his friend now gone. He was honestly concerned it was something important. “What’s next? Is your hair too perfect, J? Need a bag to cover how gorgeous you are?” Pope snickered along with him.

“I mean, I am having a good hair day…” JJ trailed off before shaking his head and turning to the two of them again. “But that isn’t all, okay? It gets freakier!”

Both boys looked at JJ with amusement from their spots on his bed.

JJ rolled his eyes before he stretched his hand out, his palm facing the ceiling with his two middle fingers pressed into his palm. Not even seconds later, a THWAP echoed through the now-silent bedroom.

Both teenagers looked down at the string of substance that just existed their friend’s wrist, completely shell-shocked. It was John B who spoke first, looking away from the white substance on JJ’s bed.

“Is that like…the same as…did you just—“ John B points down to his groin area, only for JJ to grimace.

“Dude, no! EW! I didn’t just jizz from my wrist!”

“It looks like you just did.”

Pope quickly kneeled down next to the bed, hesitantly reaching to touch the stuff, ignoring John B’s comments on how disgusting it was. “It feels like…silk,” He murmured in confusion before pulling his hand away, noticing how it stuck to his skin. “And it’s sticky.”

John B gagged in the back, but JJ ignored him. “It’s like glue, a really strong glue! And then after like twenty minutes, it disappears!” He told Pope as he reached for the scissors to help his sticky situation.

“How did you do that though?” Pope’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the science behind the completely inhumane thing JJ had just done and he had witnessed with his very own eyes.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Does it have anything to do with that weird-ass bump on your hand?” John B perked up, nodding towards JJ. All three boys’ gazes shifted to his left hand, where in fact there was a small red bump, no bigger than a grape at most.

“Nah, dude, that’s just from the spider bite yesterday.” JJ answered with a shrug. Pope chocked on the air, looking at JJ like he had three heads.

“I—you mean the fucking GENETICALLY MODIFIED SPIDERS FROM THE LAB?!” JJ winced, trying to shush Pope but there was no avail, this boy was going off on a rant. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday? JJ, those could’ve been poisonous or had long term effects or—“

“Made you some weird mutant with cool powers.” John B added. He quickly shut up when he received the ‘look’ from Pope.

“We have to tell someone at Cameron Industries.” Pope concluded. JJ was quick to pipe up, taking a few steps away from Pope on instinct.

“What, no way! They are gonna stick me under some fancy microscope or inject me with needles full of…stuff! I’m not going back into that geek galore!” JJ stated. Pope looked like he was ready to open his mouth, and start spouting out arguments as to why JJ should head over to the professional scientists over his weird, overnight mutation. But it was actually John B who came to a more mutual conclusion.

“Or we just do our own tests,” John B shrugged, both boys turning to look at him with fairly discombobulated expressions. “C’mon, Pope is basically a scientist and he is smart enough to figure out whatever the hell is going on with you!”

“I don’t have half the equipment they would have—“ Pope tried to argue.

“Look, we aren’t going to find out anything through a microscope. The best way is just go out there and test what he can do. How hard can it be?” John B grinned.

Pope wanted to argue that it was very hard. Though he had read countless papers on the genetically modified spiders, even he didn’t know enough to do a full conclusive examination on JJ and his new state. He didn’t have half the things he needed, but when he looked over at JJ and saw a much more relaxed—and hopeful—expression on his face from when he had suggested returning to the lab, Pope sighed and shook his head a little.

“Just so you both know, I am going to say, ‘I told you so’ when this goes downhill.”

**********

That is how JJ, Pope and John B found themselves standing on the roof of JJ’s apartment complex, the busy streets of New York oblivious to the scientific discovery that is happening above them. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes off the skyline, finding something about it much more relaxing that the potential of just what his new body could do. He was scared—no, scratch that—he was nervous, anxious if you will. JJ couldn’t lie that a part of him was excited. It felt surreal, like something out of one of those comics he used to nick from the uptown kids. Then again, JJ wasn’t very fond of the idea of being some new scientific discovery. It made him feel like he would end up like one of those poor frogs they had to dissect in biology—poor fuckers.

“Okay, so the spiders were made from three separate species to optimize their physical properties—being able to adapt to new environments, heightened senses to avoid predators, enhanced strength and speed, stronger material to create webs for larger prey—all that jazz. No research has been done on the psychological properties though.” Pope rambled, his hands moving wildly whilst both boys stared at him with clueless expressions.

“Which means?”

“JJ could have some really cool powers but could also be going totally insane,” Pope said with a sheepish shrug. “Like I’m talking full Tasmanian devil mode here—“

“Very reassuring, dude.” JJ stated bluntly. He took it all back, he wasn’t excited. He was terrified now. He glanced down at the small bite on his hand, which was slowly deflating as time passed. JJ wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that the second the bite disappeared, it could mean something really bad—like him turning into some massive humanoid arachnid that attacks the city. He shivered at the thought. “Right, let’s just get on with this.”

John B clapped a hand on his back, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll be fine, dude, alright? You’re in good hands.” He tried to reassure JJ. And JJ knew that everything Pope was saying was just to help him understand what was going on too, but he couldn’t help but think there was a small part of Pope that enjoyed using JJ as a lab rat. He was a scientist, could you really blame him?

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a curt nod.

“Let’s try the web again, see how far you can shoot it.” Pope piped up, moving to stand on the other side of JJ. “The average spider can shoot a web to about four feet, but these spiders have the DNA of the Darwin Bark Spiders which can shoot webs up to eighty-two feet. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you could reach the same, maybe more.” He then gestured for JJ to try it out, pointing towards the building opposite then, which was only around eight feet away, at most.

JJ took a deep breath before extending his hand out, the THWAP sounding clear despite the ongoing traffic down below. Yet, the web barely shot out a couple of inches before landing on the edge of the roof with a disappointing splat.

“Well then…” John B trailed off, all three boys staring at the failed web shot.

“You clearly weren’t trying, just concentrate!” Pope said with a clap of his hands. He only received a blank stare from JJ.

“I was trying, dumbass! It’s harder than it looks. It…feels weird, man. Like a sneeze…from my wrist!” He huffed, but Pope only nudged his shoulder to try again.

JJ sighed and turned to face the opposite building again. He raised his arm, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to imagine the web shooting out and reaching the opposing roof. He tried to imagine more web fluid being shot out his wrist, he tried to imagine like he actually knew what he was doing. Not even a second later, the THWAP sound was heard and suddenly there was a white rope of silk extending from JJ’s hand onto the next roof over.

“Holy shit!”

JJ grabbed the web, giving the web a light tug. He was expecting for the web to break, for his hand to be covered in web fluid. But instead the web remained, strong and sturdy as though it was bolted onto the roof.

“This is crazy, dude.”

He snapped his hand back, watching the web breakaway from his palm and flop, hanging from the brick wall like a pathetic piece of string. “That was cool as fuck,” He murmured as he glanced down at his wrists in shock. He gently ran his thumb over his wrist, a delightful shiver running down his back. It caused him to smile a little, thinking about just how far he could shoot these webs.

“Dude, you could swing around like Tarzan now.” John B snickered. JJ gave him a deadpan look but he couldn’t help himself from glancing down at his wrists again.

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out.” John B grinned.

Pope’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly began to shake his head. “You don’t know if the web is strong enough to hold his weight, he could hurt himself or—“

“You calling me fat?” JJ gasped with a pout, a hand placed over his heart. “You offend me, Pope. Thought you were better than this.”

“If calling you fat will stop you from swinging off a building like an idiot then yes, I am calling you fat.” He hissed.

JJ grinned, his eyes quickly searching around before he noticed a large satellite pole sticking out from one of the nearby buildings. It was a bit further away, but JJ let the pride of his last success get to his head. “I can do it, bud, don’t worry about it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“He can do it!”

“How the fuck do you know that!?”

“Sixth sense, my dude.”

JJ blocked out the bickering, taking a couple of steps back from the edge of the roof. A running start never hurt anyone, right? He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from left to right. Never once did he let his gaze shift away from the satellite pole. He crouched down a little, already feeling the adrenaline build up in him. “Diver down, boys.” He grinned before he began sprinting to the edge of the building. As he reached the edge, he pushed himself off and extended his arm out, imagining the web wrapping around the pole and seconds later it did. He held the web tightly in his grip as he felt himself swinging towards the building. Whoops and cheers could be heard, though JJ wasn’t sure if they were coming from him or the boys back on the roof.

“JJ, THE WALL! LOOK OUT!”

But JJ was a little too pumped up to even comprehend what Pope was screaming until he noticed the brick wall getting closer. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ The words echoed in his head and he tried to think of a way to slow himself down. But it was useless as he found himself colliding with the wall, his eyes clenched shut on impact.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. A part of him thought he was dead, that maybe he hit the wall way too hard, he had a lot of momentum after all. But the muffled screams coming from his friends was enough to tell him that he was very much alive. “I’m alive!” He yelled out, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open, finding himself face to face with a brick wall. “What the…” He trailed off when he glanced at his hands, finding them attached to the brick wall.

His heart was pounding when he looked down, seeing that he was attached to the wall, very far up from the ground, with nothing suspending him. His mind was reeling, almost as though he was waiting for himself to fall and his body to meet the ground. But it never happened.

“You’re like an actual fucking spider, dude!” He heard John B yell, as though he was right beside him, which caused him to wince a little. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them still very far away on that roof.

JJ shook his head and glanced up, seeing the edge of the roof a couple of feet from where he was stuck on the wall. He took a deep breath before slowly removing one hand, and when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he moved it up higher. Slowly, JJ found himself scaling the side of the building, his heart beating wildly even as he pulled himself over the edge, both feet finding the solid ground of the roof. He turned back to look at his friends, both of whom looked shocked beyond belief.

“What the hell…” He could hear Pope whisper, which only caused JJ’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought.” He muttered to himself, only now realising that the bite mark on his hand was long gone.

**********

JJ winced a little as he heard the bell ring, indicating the end of this period and the start of lunch—his favourite subject. Yet, JJ wasn’t exactly jumping out of his seat as usual. It was now Monday and everyone was back at school. JJ, Pope and John B had spent the better use of the whole weekend to run around, using JJ like some lab rat and seeing just what he could and couldn’t do. And JJ was fucking exhausted. The amount of times he had face-planted into a wall was beyond funny and he had learnt the hard way that the more on edge he was, the more sensitive he was…well, to everything. The sound of the chairs screeching against the floor made him cringe, the bright LED lights made him want to cry and the feeling of his sweater against his skin was scratchy and uncomfortable. JJ sure as hell wasn’t hyped for his newly found powers if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

The blond sighed to himself as he shoved his stuff into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and heading towards the cafeteria once he left the class. He kept his head down, finding the small shuffles of his vans against the floor were helping him from cussing out every single student that bumped into him, making him honestly want to scream and stay six feet away from everyone. He tried to reassure himself that he was half way through the day, that he only had a couple of hours left and then he could preferably go hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. Okay, that is a little dramatic but a dark hole sounded great to JJ right now.

But here’s the thing, JJ is a Maybank. He has the good ol’ Maybank luck, which means even when he feels shit, the universe is out to make his life worse. And the universe sent that in the form of Rafe Cameron and his loyal little minions, Topper Thornton and Kelce Smith. Midtown High’s own version of the Plastics, some may say.

By some, I mean JJ. But hey, don’t judge. He was forced into watch Mean Girls by one of his flings awhile back and he won’t lie, the movie slaps. But that is besides the point.

“Oi, Maybank!”

JJ inwardly groaned at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He would much rather hear nails on a chalkboard than whatever Rafe had to say. JJ wouldn’t consider them bullies, they were simply the top tier of the uptown kids who had some sort of superiority complex. And JJ had no issue on challenging them, it was far too easy to wind up a bunch of rich kids who weren’t used to being called out on their bullshit. And it just stuck. They would say something stupid to try and provoke him, and most of the time JJ’s words were enough for them to leave him alone. He had the satisfaction of punching Rafe in the face a few times, but usually Pope and John B were quick to hold him back. After all, it would backfire on JJ if he got into trouble with an uptown kid.

“What do you want?” JJ huffed out, glancing up at the trio. The sight of the three of them almost brought a smile to his lips. Uptown kids and their need to follow trends, they wore the same outfit in different variations and it honestly made JJ want to laugh. The classic preppy look with their pastel sweaters and tennis shoes, it made JJ want to gag. But he contained his vomit as Rafe spoke up.

“Aw, c’mon, Maybank. That all you got today? A bit pathetic.” Rafe snickered, the other two laughing along with their leader. JJ rolled his eyes. The funniest thing about them was their outfits.

“As much as I’d love to talk to you little pastel powerpuff girls, I have much better things to do in my life,” JJ said with a sarcastic smile on his lips as he side-stepped the trio, attempting to make his way past them. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with them today. He had happily planned to steal food from Pope and take a nap for the hour. But the second he felt Rafe’s hand on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Watch your mouth, Maybank.” Rafe spat, his hand tightening on JJ’s shoulder. The act made him want to cringe away and rip off his skin. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing that little bit of skin near the neckline of his sweater, it made JJ want to gag. It felt horrible. He wanted that feeling gone.

“Piss off, Cameron.” He scoffed, harshly jerking his shoulder so Rafe’s hand would lose its grip but it only tightened. In an act of desperation, JJ did the only thing that seemed reasonable. He shoved Rafe away. Now normally, it would be enough to have Rafe stumble a few steps so JJ can make a quick exit. But JJ just so happened to have forgotten that this wasn’t like every other normal time. He wasn’t normal anymore. So, his shove was much more than a wee push, it was more like completely winding Rafe. JJ couldn’t help but cringe when he heard the sound of Rafe’s body colliding with the lockers before he slumped to the ground, a dent now evident in the lockers from the collision. Topper and Kelce looked at JJ with mixed looks of confusion and fear before rushing to their friend’s aid.

“Oh my god, Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped to the end of the hallway where he could see Sarah Cameron, but she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the curly haired girl from the trip. His eyes widened a little when his gaze met hers, but he was only met with a glare from the mysterious beauty.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed at JJ as the two girls got closer, now seeing the full effect of what JJ had done. JJ gulped a little, his fingers tapping the side of his legs as he tried to think this through. What could he say, ‘oh sorry, kinda lost control of my new powers, I’ll be a little more careful next time’. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

“He started it!” JJ blurted out, only to mentally smack himself at how childish he sounded. “I barely touched him, he was being dramatic!” He added but the looks of uncertainty didn’t reassure him that they bought it. He was in the lion’s den here, a downtown kid surrounded by the privileged. He was never going to win. So, he did the only sane thing any downtown kid would do. He got out of there as quick as he could.

“He could be concussed!” Sarah Cameron spoke up for the first time, a frown on her face as she met JJ’s gaze. He could almost feel the judgement oozing from her.

“Maybe he will finally have some brain cells knocked into him!” And with that, JJ ran out of that hallway and didn’t stop running until he was far away from the school.

**********

“I’m sorry what?”

Following the fiasco on Monday, JJ’s week hadn’t been much better. Most of it was spent avoiding the uptown crew whilst simultaneously keeping a low profile, which is very hard for someone like JJ. He was used to being the class clown, milking any attention he got. Now he felt like he was under house arrest or something, trapped to keep to himself and work out what the hell was happening to him. But true to their commitment of being his best friends, John B and Pope were right there beside him. It had been a long and stressful week but they made it through. It was a little exhausting on them but they had each other to lean on. JJ was just glad he wasn’t alone.

But now, sat in Pope’s bedroom on the Saturday night, looking between the two boys with a very concerned look, JJ wasn’t sure his weekend was going to be any more relaxing. He knew the three of them combined weren’t the best combinations. They probably shared a brain cell between them and even then, it mostly resided with Pope and his weird, random facts. They had come up with some really strange, out-there ideas before—like the time they tried to give John B a perm with household products or when they convinced themselves they could do a road trip in John B’s crappy van. But this was the icing on the cake. This was enough for JJ to confirm that his friends had completely lost their mind.

“Think about it!” John B continued, practically rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement. JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him. To be honest, JJ wasn’t even sure where to start with how bad of an idea this was. “You have these super cool powers that are totally useless to everyday life, so why not put them to use? You could be like—the next Batman or something!”

“Batman was a rich dude who made gadgets. He doesn’t even have any powers. How the hell would I be like Batman?”

“Okay, bad example,” Pope piped up. “But just think about it. You could make a difference, be a hero!”

“A really badass superhero!” John B added.

JJ looked at them with a frown on his face. This now just seemed like a deranged joke. He was waiting for them to laugh, to say it was just a silly joke and move on with their usual weekend plans. But they didn’t. They continued.

“I mean, we could be a team! The three of us! You’ll go out and do all the crime fighting, Pope can make crazy gadgets and do all the…tech stuff and I can be your guy in the chair, you know?”

“My guy in the chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in the headset…surrounded by screens…telling you where to go when you need extra help and stuff.”

“What?”

“Like Pope would set it up, but I would be the mastermind behind it! Like you’re stuck in a building and can’t find a way out, I would help you find a route. Your guy in the chair!”

JJ only shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and not completely lose his temper.

“And like every superhero ever, you’ll need a suit. So, I went looking through some stuff and I found my mum’s sewing machine,” Pope fumbled around in his pocket before he pulled out a small bunch of red fabric. He threw it to JJ, which he easily caught. JJ then realised it was like a ski mask, with two small holes for his eyes. “It’s not much but we can work on it, keep your identity secret and everything.”

“Oh, and you’ll need a badass name! I was thinking like Night Monkey, or—“

“—Spiderling!” Pope interrupted with a grin, clearly proud of it. But JJ had enough.

“Can the both of you just shut up!” He snapped, both boys instantly quieting down, looking at JJ with concerned looks. “Okay, are you out of your mind? Me? A superhero? Hate to fucking break it to you but I am not the superhero type guy, alright? I’m not your friendly neighbourhood nice guy helping old ladies cross the street or getting cats out of the tree! I could give zero fucks about the law cause all its there for is rich idiots to manipulate and use to ruin lives of people like us!” JJ cried out to them, letting go of any hope he had on trying to keep his cool.

“People like us don’t become heroes, alright? We are usually the ones that get locked up. And knowing my luck, I will be thrown straight into some loony house, in a straitjacket because of these powers! You guys have to be absolute fools if you think any of this would work.” JJ huffed as he stood up, shoving the mask into his pocket before making his way to the door. “I don’t care about other people, alright? I care about you guys, my mum and most importantly, myself. Why the hell should I risk my life for a world that won’t appreciate it anyways.” Both boys stood there stunned, looking at JJ with wide eyes and parted lips.

“JJ—“

“No, okay? Superheroes are meant for comic books and movies, not real life, alright? Grow up.” And with that, JJ slammed the door as he left the apartment.

JJ scoffed, muttering to himself as he walked through the dark streets of New York, deciding to take the longer route back home. He needed the time to clear his head, grasp his thoughts. He didn’t know what the boys were thinking, he was definitely not fit to be a hero. Were they out of their minds? Give a guy some abnormal powers and suddenly he should be putting on a cape and preaching morals. That wasn’t JJ, that would never be JJ. He was selfish, arrogant at times and beyond prideful. But he was aware. He knew what he was and he knew he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. Pope and John B needed to stop being ignorant and see that.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and continued his way back to his building complex, hands shoved in his pockets with his right-hand clenching around the fabric of the mask. Small puffs escaped his lips as JJ started regretting taking the long way home. It was October and winter was promising to come early, JJ could tell that much by the stinging cold against his cheeks. The cold was just the cherry on top of his bitter mood.

Yet, as JJ continued to make his way home, he could hear the sound of people talking, causing a frown to form on his face. JJ had walked this way many times, especially during the night, and the chance of passing someone down these streets were fairly rare. Maybe the odd one here or there, but a group of people? Definitely not common.

At first, he ignored it. He had gotten used to the heightened senses over the week, being able to hear things from a distance even when he didn’t try. For all he knew, he could be hearing the muttering of some people a few blocks over. So, he ignored it and carried on walking. But then it started getting louder and clearer. JJ felt his whole body go on alert, the hair on his arm standing up, like his body knew something was off. He could feel it in his gut, a horrible realisation that this wasn’t going to be his usual walk home.

It wasn’t until when JJ turned the corner that he realised just what he had walked into. There stood around five men, all wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. They were dressed in all black, probably to draw less attention to themselves, but JJ could see the glint of guns in the light of the lampposts shining down on the street. They stood outside a building, three of them seeming to try and block the view of the other two. It was then when JJ’s brain actually caught up with what he was seeing and realised what the building was. A bank. These guys were trying to rob a bank.

Well shit.

The way JJ saw it, he had two options here. He could turn around, pretend he didn’t see anything and let them get on with what they were doing. Chances were they would either get caught by the police or he would see that the bank had been successfully robbed tomorrow morning on the news. Or JJ could do something about it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, only to see that it was dead. Of course, it was the good ol’ Maybank luck. He shoved it back into his pocket and looked towards the five men.

Then an idea popped into his head. A stupid, insane idea that was nothing short of self-deprecating and downright dumb. It was short of one of the worst ideas he had ever had. JJ had done a lot of weird stuff in his life but this definitely tops it all. And the worst part was that he was going through with it, because as much as he hated it, it was his only choice right now.

“I’m gonna regret this.” JJ huffed to himself as he snatched the mask out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the small holes Pope had made. He let out a breath, shaking his shoulders a little as he tried to pump himself up, get his adrenaline going.

“You got this, it’s not like they have guns or anything,” JJ muttered to himself as he placed his hands on the wall of the building across from the bank, the one he was currently hiding around so the bank robbers wouldn’t see him, before he began to scale the building. I mean, who would expect the enemy coming from above, right?

He stopped around half way up the building, thanks to the heightened senses he was able to still see the criminals clearly. He watched them closely, seeing only the three men that were on lookout where the one with guns. “Oh, let’s hope this works.” He whispered to himself before extending his arm out.

“What the fuck!” One of them called out as his gun was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye, his two friends following a similar reaction. JJ wasn’t even thinking about where he was throwing the guns, just as long as they were nowhere near these dudes when he confronted them.

He watched them freak out, yelling at each other as they looked around for the culprit to their missing guns. He heard the half-ass threats they used and tried not to snort before he shot a web to one of the lampposts nearby and swung down, landing gracefully at the top of the lamppost.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but someone lied, bank doesn’t open until tomorrow morning.” JJ called out to them, giving a small shrug. All five heads snapped up to look at him, and the glares he was receiving was enough to tell him that these guys weren’t big jokesters.

“Piss off, kid, this is none of your business.” One of them replied in a blunt, scruffy voice. It honestly made JJ cringe a little.

“You see,” JJ sighed. “I’ve made it my business so…” He trailed off before snapping his wrist, a web shooting out to stick to the head of the closest criminal and with a firm tug, his head hit the pole before he slumped to the ground.

One of the men growled at JJ, clearly not happy about some weird kid interrupting their wee heist. “You had your warning, kid. Come down and play with the adults.” He taunted before JJ noticed the glimmer of something in the light. A knife. Of-fucking-course the gun wasn’t the only weapon they had on them.

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He commented, shooting a web to wrap around the criminal’s wrist, prepared to pull it out of his grasp, only for the robber to tug the web instead, sending JJ flying off the lamppost and falling on his ass to the ground. “Fuck!” He hissed as he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Life is unfair,” The criminal muttered before reaching to punch JJ but he easily dodged it. The speed and agility with which he moved with clearly distracting the criminal long enough for JJ to kick him hard enough that sent him stumbling back into the wall. JJ barely had time to process it before he snapped his hand to the left, stopping a fist that was inches away from his face.

“Nice try, asshole.” He huffed before twisting the criminal’s arm before sending a swift punch to his jaw. There was a satisfying pop sound that told JJ he would be preoccupied for at least a couple of minutes.

He then noticed two of the criminals trying to corner him, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little under the mask at just how cliché it seemed. In seconds, JJ has webs shooting out each wrist, attaching to the chests of each men, before yanking the two towards each other. Groans echoed through the empty street as both men collided with each other.

JJ’s head snapped to the side when he heard an angry battle call as he saw the man with the now dislocated jaw running towards him. JJ crouched down a little before he began running towards the criminal, his arms hooking around his knees. He kept running forwards until JJ felt glass smash around him and the two of them fell through. He quickly got up, wincing at the window he had just broken before turning to the criminal and giving him a good smack in the face—he definitely wasn’t holding back with his strength on that one.

JJ began to work fast, not knowing how long each of the criminals would stay dazed and unconscious for. In no time, he had them piled together, a healthy amount of web fluid keeping them tied together. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least for twenty minutes. But it was just JJ’s luck that he didn’t have to worry about that time limit because not even seconds after he finished, he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights flashing down the streets.

Police cars began to surround the bank, creating a semi-circle to prevent any possible escape. Officers began to exit their vehicles, guns set and loaded and now aimed towards JJ. “This is NYPD, keep your hands where we can see them!” One officer called out.

“Shit,” JJ muttered to himself as he raised his hands in the air, watching as officers slowly approached the crime scene.

He watched as a look of confusion washed over their faces as they took in the scene: the smashed window, the five tied up men, the weird silky rope that was binding them together and of course, JJ in his crappy mask.

He watched as they evaluated the situation. Watched as they tried to piece it all together before one officer—the badge telling JJ her name was Captain Peterkin—stopped in front of JJ with raised eyebrows. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did, ma’am.”

“Why?” Another officer perked up, JJ could see his badge said Officer Shoupe.

“They were robbing a bank, what did you want me to do? Sit around making daisy chains until you showed up?” JJ immediately defended, glaring as best as he could with the mask on his face.

Peterkin smiled a little before she cleared her throat, JJ’s attention shifting to her. “Then I guess we owe you a great deal of thanks for your work.”

“All in a day’s work, can I leave now? I’m sure the security cameras will give you all the answers you need.” JJ stated as he already began to take a few steps away from the crime scene, walking backwards.

“Can we at least know your name?” Peterkin asked.

JJ looked down at his wrists before he snapped them up, watching as the web attached to nearby building. He looked at Peterkin and couldn’t help grin under his mask as he answered her question before tugging on the web and swinging away into the night.

“Call me Spider-Man.”

Taglist: @alphinias @popcornhook @loveyatopluto @teamnick @peanutbelley @iccyyyybitch @jiara-maybank @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal @carissarose16 @unspokenfaith @largedenominationsplease @jiaaras @homebody-nobody @smileymikey @hvitstark @shaymq7 @hmspogue @falseungodlyhours @aarchiess @rcsales @raeoffuckingsunshine @jjskiaras @parker-holland-osterfield @thesadprose

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #outer banks fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #spiderman au #marvel #tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

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gladdygirl18 · 4 years

Text

A Bond Only Siblings Have

Summary: Shuri was having a boring day in her lab and had nothing to do. The King had a day off and she decided to have some fun with him. T’Challa may be King of Wakanda, but he was still Shuri’s older brother; both sharing a “special” bond only siblings would have and understand.

Word Count: 1742

Okay, let’s get one thing straight. Shuri is the smartest person in Wakanda, a princess, and a scientist; and, when she has to be, a warrior. With her high-tech gadgets, you would think she wouldn’t get bored with them, right? Wrong!

It was a slow day in Shuri’s lab, and said princess was very bored. She remodeled the same gadget three times in the past hour and found nothing else to do to amuse herself.

“Boredom... Why must you haunt me...?” Shuri asked tiredly.

Standing up, she stretched her tired and aching body. Letting out a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms and looked around her lab. Everything was still and quiet.

“What am I going to do today...?” Shuri asked herself.

Leaning back against a desk, she looked up at the high ceiling in thought. A smile soon came across the princess’s face when she came up with an idea.

T’Challa is not doing anything today... Shuri thought.

T’Challa may be the King of Wakanda, but he will forever and always be Shuri’s older brother; someone who she looked up to more than anyone else, someone who she will love and care for, someone who she will always play pranks on.

Ever since their father passed away, it was rough for the both of them and their mother. But after the whole Killmonger and Thanos situation, both T’Challa and Shuri became closer than ever. T’Challa would take the time from his busy schedule to visit his sister in her lab, and Shuri would make time to visit her brother when the other tribes were there.

Shuri then started to ponder what she and T’Challa should do together. She thought about taking a stroll through the city, but she wanted alone time with her brother, and her brother alone. No guards, no other people; just her and T’Challa. Shuri stood up and started to walk to T’Challa’s room, still wondering what she and him should do together.

“Maybe we could... no, that’s not good either. Or maybe... no...” Shuri pondered.

When Shuri reached her brother’s room, she breathed out and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” answered a voice on the other side of the door.

Shuri smiled at the recognizable voice. Turning the doorknob, she pushed the door open and walked in T’Challa’s room. She had forgotten how big her brother’s room is. Shuri soon spotted T’Challa sitting on the edge of his bed reading a book. When T’Challa saw his sister, he smiled.

“Ah, welcome little sister.” he said.

“Hello Brother. What have you been doing, besides reading?” Shuri asked.

T’Challa breathed out a heavy sigh before setting the book in his lap.

“To be honest, nothing much. I was just looking through an old photo album.” T’Challa said, handing his sister the book.

Taking the burgundy book, Shuri opened it to a random page. She smiled when she saw all the photos of her, T’Challa, their mother, and father.

“Brother, do you remember this photo? It is when Baba took us to the Border Tribe for the first time.” Shuri said, showing her brother the photo.

“I do remember, Sister. And this one was when Baba took us to the River Tribe.” T’Challa said.

When Shuri sat down next to her brother, the two of them started reminiscing on all the times when they were kids.

“I remember you used to be so serious when you were younger, Brother,” Shuri said.

“I was going to be king, Sister. I had to be,” T’Challa said.

“In my opinion, you were more cute than serious.”

“I am afraid I have to disagree. You were cuter than I. Everything you did was cute and adorable.”

Shuri rolled her eyes with a fond smile plastered on her face.

“My statement still stands. Whenever you tried to be serious, you would just end up looking cute,” Shuri said.

“Now that I am king, I have to be serious,” T’Challa said.

“Eh, you still look cute to me.”

“I am not.”

“I bet if I ask Nakia, she will agree with me.”

T’Challa breathed out and averted his sister’s gaze, knowing that she was right. Shuri and Nakia were as close as sisters. They would always gang up on T’Challa. Of course, T’Challa doesn’t mind, but it was annoying to say the least.

“You know I’m right, Brother. Just admit it,” Shuri said.

“I never said you were right,” T’Challa said.

“And you never said I was wrong.”

“Why would I admit that you are right?”

“Because you are afraid to be proven wrong by your little sister.”

When Shuri said this, she prodded her brother’s side. T’Challa twisted away with a smirk growing on his face. Shuri then smiled mischievously at her brother.

“And I still remember your weakness, Brother.” Shuri said.

“Shuri, don’t!” T’Challa pleaded with a nervous smile.

Shuri just shrugged and then pounced on her brother, dancing her fingers all over his torso. T’Challa let out a yelp before dissolving into adorable giggles.

“See? Even your laugh proves my point,” Shuri said.

“Shuhuhuhuhuhuhuri stohohohohohohop!” T’Challa laughed.

“Not until you say I’m right.”

“Why shohohohohohould I?”

Shuri sighed and started attacking her brother’s ribs, getting a wild buck in response.

“Stohohohohohop Shuri! Plehehehehease!” T’Challa begged.

“Amazing. My brother, the King of Wakanda, and the Black Panther, taken down by tickles. Better hope your enemies don’t find out.” Shuri taunted.

If anything, that only fueled T’Challa’s urge to get away from his sister. T’Challa then grabbed his sister’s wrists and removed them his body.

“Aw, you ruined my fun...” Shuri whined.

“But you did not ruin mine.” T’Challa said.

Shuri looked at her brother in confusion and fear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Shuri asked nervously.

Her question was soon answered when she felt her brother’s fingers dig into her side. Shuri’s reaction was much more immediate than T’Challa’s. Her laugh was music to the king’s ears.

“T’Chahahahahahahalla! Stohohohohohop ihihihit!” Shuri laughed.

“You did not stop when I asked. So, why should I show you mercy when you did not give me any?” T’Challa asked with a sly grin.

Shuri couldn’t answer brother’s question, nor form a word. Shuri has always been more ticklish than T’Challa, but she knew that T’Challa had sweet spots to make him defenseless as a newborn baby. If only her brother’s grip around her wrists wasn’t so tight.

“Brohohohohohother! Stohohohohohop!” Shuri laughed, twisting her body every which way.

“Not going to happen, little sister.” T’Challa said, scratching his finger in his sister’s armpits.

Shuri’s laughter reached a new volume and octave. Shuri flopped back on her brother’s bed with laughter.

“THIHIHIHIHIS IS SOHOHOHO UNFAHAHAIR! STAHAHAHAP!” Shuri laughed.

T’Challa continued his onslaught, not acknowledging his sister’s plea. He missed Shuri’s laugh. So pure and childish. Exactly why she takes the award of being the cutest little sister, in his opinion. T’Challa then let out a giggly yelp when he felt fingers on his sides.

“You should know not to let your guard down around me, Brother.” Shuri said.

“I cohohohould say the sahahahahame about yohohohohou!” T’Challa laughed.

T’Challa simply attacked his sister’s side and listened to her melodic laughter.

“Ahahahahahaha! Cuhuhuhuhut it - OUT!” Shuri cried.

Her laughter doubled when her armpits started getting attacked.

“T’CHAHAHAHAHALLAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Shuri cried.

“You stohohohohohop first!” T’Challa laughed.

Shuri hated how she was dying laughing whereas her brother was just giggling. She wanted to hear T’Challa’s laugh. She missed it. Shuri gave up trying to tickle her brother and just accepted her fate.

“COHOHOHOME OHOHON! GIVE ME A CHAHAHAHANCE!” Shuri begged.

“And why would I do that?” T’Challa asked, resting his hands on Shuri’s sides.

Shuri panted before looking at her brother.

“Because I’m your little sister and you love me.” Shuri answered.

T’Challa smiled and shook his head in amusement.

“I was expecting a better reason.” T’Challa said.

Taking a gamble, Shuri pounced on her brother and wrestled with him until she was finally able to pin him down.

“Again. Never let your guard down around me.” Shuri said, smiling down at her brother.

Shuri then started attacking her brother’s hips, making said man buck in response. T’Challa was soon producing loud laughter instead of giggles.

“SHUHUHUHUHUHRI! NOHOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAP!” T’Challa begged.

“There’s that laugh.” Shuri said.

Shuri smiled down at her brother. This is exactly what she wanted. A moment with her brother, and her brother alone. She never expected their conversation to turn into a tickle fight, but in her opinion, this was so much better than a conversation.

“SHUHUHUHURI! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAP!” T’Challa begged.

“Not until you say that I was right about you being more cute than serious.” Shuri said, massaging her brother’s hipbone harder.

T’Challa let out a new wave of laughter at the new sensation.

“NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAHAHAY!” T’Challa spat out.

“Then I guess I’m never stopping.” Shuri said.

In all honesty, T’Challa really didn’t want Shuri to stop, even though he would never admit to save his life. Like her, he’s been craving time alone with his sister. Right now, in this moment, T’Challa wished he could stop time and spend it with his little sister.

"Do you really want me to tickle you forever, Brother? Because I have no problem doing just that." Shuri said.

T'Challa's laughter soon fell on deaf ears. Taking a gamble, T'Challa shot his hands into Shuri’s exposed armpits. Shuri laughed out but still continued to tickle her brother.

“BROHOHOHOHOTHER STAHAHAHAHAP!” Shuri cried.

“YOHOHOHOHOHOU STAHAHAHAP FIHIHIHIRST” T’Challa laughed.

This back and forth tickle fight went on for what felt like hours. The two siblings soon stopped and rested, panting slightly with wide smiles plastered on their faces.

“I missed this.” T’Challa said.

“Me too.” Shuri said.

When the two of them sat up, T’Challa pulled his sister into a hug.

“Brother, can you promise me something?” Shuri asked.

“Anything, Shuri.” T’Challa said.

“Promise me that you’ll always be my big brother, no matter what...”

What Shuri said brought a smile to T’Challa’s face.

“As long as you promise to always be my little sister.” T’Challa said.

“I promise.” Shuri said the second after her brother’s statement.

Shuri wrapped her arms around T’Challa and snuggled closer into her brother’s embrace. T’Challa let out a content sigh and rested his head on his sister’s. T’Challa may be a king and Shuri may be a princess, but they were still brother and sister, and the bond they share is something that cannot ever be broken.

Hope you enjoyed! Stay Safe, Stay Blessed!

#tickle fic #tickle #tickling #ticklish!shuri #ticklish!t'challa #black panther fic #black panther #ticklish!black panther

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secret-engima · 5 years

Text

Random HCs for Some of My Verses

Future’s Blurry (the Past is a Trap) verse:

-Glaucus has no idea how he wound up with a pet mad scientist. He WENT there intending to kill Besithia, he DID. Instead he found himself with a mad scientist on his heels, complaining about not having a fancy lab anymore and needing it if he’s going to prove Glaucus wrong.

-Oh yeah, Glaucus thinks with a squint, somewhere in the whole “somehow not killing the scientist” (not that he COULD, Prompto had come from that man and if there was a chance ... well, he loved Prompto more than he hated Besithia, it would be worth the annoyance) Glaucus had said that Besithia wasn’t smart enough or skilled enough to be Really All That™. Besithia had immediately taken offense, forgetting all about his life being in danger in favor of his pride, and demanded HOW DARE. OF COURSE HE WAS.

-Glaucus had snorted something to the order of how if he was REALLY all that he would be able to make a cure/vaccine for the Scourge, not just piddle around infecting things with it and claiming to have done something NEW (the scourge infected everything by nature, essentially infecting machinery wasn’t new, it was just calculated stupidity).

-Glaucus thinks that might have been what led to his acquisition of a scientist actually. Besithia so insulted he’d been willing to defect from the empire that they both knew would never condone a vaccine for their precious Scourge just to prove Glaucus WRONG.

-At one point he has to stop and laugh hysterically over the fact that he just took out Niflheim’s R&D division at the kneecaps. By doing a slightly (SLIGHTLY) more adult version of Double Dog Daring their head scientist.

-There’s also the fact that, to get proper funding, housing, and equipment for his new pet scientist, Glaucus could no longer just subsist on bounties from Hunts and dragging Ardyn from hotel to hotel. No, he needed money, manpower, resources that couldn’t be tracked.

-Lucky for him, he was once Cor the Immortal, the guy in charge of busting illegal butts and then later in charge of the surviving population of humanity in the Long Night. He knew a thing or two about discreet resources and acquisition of funds.

-The Insomnia Underworld had no idea what hit it. It feels like one minute their going about their days, discreetly infighting between the families, laundering their illegal items, the next minute everything is being taken over like dominos by an icy-eyed TEENAGER that can’t seem to DIE no matter what is thrown at him.

-By the end of the year post getting his scientist, Glaucus had (unwillingly) re-taken his title of The Immortal and was the shadow king of the entire freaking Underworld of Insomnia and a good chunk of Lucis. Anyone who didn’t like his new rules of conduct were killed or kicked out and those who were smart enough to swear loyalty found themselves magically bound by their word (Glaucus had no idea how he pulled off that trick, he blamed the KoL and their shenanigans during the time travel). Glaucus then put some of the less scummy and more intelligent ones in charge and calmly swanned off to go back to running around the wilds taking on Hunts and blowing up Nif bases.

-The new Lieutenants in charge of the underworld on behalf of their new Underworld King all just ... kinda blinked at each other and silently asked “What Just Happened?”

-And that is how Cor/Glaucus ended up the reigning king of the Lucian underworld and Besithia got to play mad scientist in a hidden laboratory all Right Under King Mors’ Nose thank you and good night.

...

Risk the Fall (We Have Felt It All) verse:

-The others in the main cast of the first game get reborn too, don’t @ me.

-As we all know, Lightning is the new Crown Princess of Lucis and Hope is the new Crown Prince of Tenebrae, the others are also their own characters so to speak except for Snow and Serah but we’ll get back to them in a sec.

-Sazh is an Armaugh. He’s Weskham’s nephew and his new name is Sors. He’s three years older than Lightning this time around, but he STILL gets teased as the “Old Man” of the group, which he bears with good humor. He ends up being her Hand, just like Ignis is for Noctis.

-Fang and Vanille are reborn as half-sisters who look nothing alike. Fang is the elder of the two and just as Throw Hands as ever. She’s like- three-ish years younger than Lightning. Vanille is five years younger than Lightning. They don’t have the same mom, and only stumbled on each other by happenstance. They started by recognizing each other from their past life and then started comparing their current one and talking about it was funny that they both came from a fling rather than a marriage. Then they start talking about their respective moms (At least Vanille’s is dead I think? Who knows, but this way Fang gets to adopt Vanille and drag her home) and from there they talked about what little they know of their respective dads.

-And find out their descriptions of appearance and temperament described by their mothers match.

-Eerily so.

-“We’re sisters!” Vanille (who needs a new latin name btw) squeals in joy, throwing her arms around Fang, who just snorts dryly and says,

-“I swore that if I ever met ‘im, I’d stab him where the sun don’t shine. But since he gave me you ... I guess I’ll just give him a black eye. Maybe break an arm.”

-Far, far away in Insomnia, Cor pauses and reaches for his sword on instinct, sure for a moment that someone was plotting bodily harm against him. There is no one in the study but him, Regis, and Clarus however, so he shrugs it off a moment later. Probably just the nifs cursing him out for his latest mission or something.

-Snow and Serah come back as canon characters. Because I Said So.

-Luna is 8 years old when she tentatively creeps up to Zagreus/Hope, tears in her eyes, and softly asks “Hope” if she can see her sister.

-Zagreus stares at her in shock, then slowly kneels down to be eye level and whispers, “Serah?”

-She nods, blue eyes so much older than they were just yesterday before something caused her to remember, and Hope kisses her forehead before hurrying off to find his computer. Over Skype, Lightning and Serah cry for joy and sadness.

-“We’re not sisters this time,” pouts Lightning just a little.

-Serah smiles, sugar sweet and innocent, “I guess you’ll just have to hurry up and marry Hope so we can be sisters-in-law.” Both of the elder reincarnates choke on their spit while Luna laughs.

-Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the jungles of Galahd, Libertus tiredly puts ointment on Nyx’s cuts and scrapes while the grinning Ulric holds an ice pack to his black eye, “Just had to pick a fight, didn’t you,” mutters Lib, “always gotta be the Hero.”

-Nyx smiles, and Lib notices it’s that strange, far-off sad one he gets sometimes, the one that makes him look way too old and weary for his years, “I promised,” he says simply, an apology and unknowable explanation all in one. Libertus doesn’t ask WHO he promised, he knows Nyx won’t tell him. “I promised” has been his excuse since they could barely walk. Libertus isn’t sure he wants an answer at this point. Some things just aren’t for mortal men to know.

#Secret Engima Rambles #The Future's Blurry (the Past is Trap) verse #Risk the Fall (We Have Felt It All) verse #mwahahahaha

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

Text

Under Her Extra-Large Umbrella - Chris Redfield x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: Chris Redfield’s deception is coming to an end in this second part of the story but not in the way he expected.

Author’s note: This fanfic was supposed to be 2 chapters long, but considering all the things I originally wrote in this second chapter, I chose to cut it in two and write a third chapter to develop the story a bit more . Hope you will like it anyway.

Part 1 is available here / Fanfiction also available on AO3

Warnings: Angst, Romance, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Language.

Wet hair, forehead covered in pearls of sweat, Chris was gazing at you, panting and exhausted, his hot uneven breath tickling your face when you nudged his rear with your ankles to keep him inside of you, still feeling his cock in your core throbbing like crazy after the powerful orgasm he had just experienced. “Damn, woman. Are you trying to kill me?” He breathed out and you giggled “What? Have you lost your stamina?” “No, but I’m afraid you dried me. I’ve got nothing left.” You laughed, finding his naughty words more ridiculous than funny. “I think you’ll have to wait till tonight for round 3.” He pecked your nose and pulled out of you to get off the bed, majestic body glistening in sweat. “I’m gonna go get a shower.” “And I’m going to try and find my clothes.” You looked at the mess around you. Both yours and Chris’ clothes were scattered everywhere in his bedroom. A perfect picture of how wild and hot this afternoon alone together had been. “Good luck with that.” Chris humoured as he left the room, completely naked. Guess that was a good thing your roommate was not here this afternoon.

You got up, draped in his bed sheet, your body sore and still very hot and sticky. Chris had asked you if you were trying to kill him. Well, as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if he wasn’t the one who wanted you were trying to kill you judging by the your dishevelled hair and the swarm of dark hickeys he had left all over your chest and collar bones. Oh, he would hear about this!

You started gathering your clothes and Chris’, picking them up one by one onto the floor and the furniture. “Damn, where are my panties?” You cursed as you scanned the room but they were nowhere to be seen. So, you looked for them in the pile of clothes then under the blanket, actually unable to remember what Chris had done with them. Maybe under the bed. You knelt and peaked under the mattress. There was nothing as well, except a lot of dust and bits of fluff that immediately tickled your nose. But as you kept looking under the bed, something weird caught your attention. There was a sort of red cord hanging in between two slats of the bed base. It made you frown because it strangely looked like the cord of your Umbrella access badge. But it couldn’t be that. You had lost that badge weeks ago, probably in the Metropolitain. Its presence here, especially under Chris’ mattress was simply impossible and completely illogical. And yet, you pulled on the cord anyway.

What a horrible surprise when you saw the card fall onto the floor and realised it was indeed your old badge. How had it gotten here? You didn’t know what to think. But you couldn’t help but hear the same question repeating itself in your head. Why Chris? Why?

The badge in your hands, you sat on the bed, lost in sudden paranoid thoughts that were so unlike you. What if Chris was a spy? What if he was working for Tricell or the Connections? After all, those guys had been trying to compete with Umbrella for years. What if he worked for the Government? What if … So many ‘what if’ and yet one single common denominator. Chris had betrayed you.

You didn’t know how to process all the emotions you were feeling right now. Burning anger. Frozen shock. Both mixed with a awful sorrow that didn’t seem to want to escape in the form of tears just yet, not as long as you were trying to deny all the conclusions you had drawn and convince yourself that you were imagining things. There was certainly another explanation.

You stood up and started walking in circles in the room like a lion in a cage, whispering to yourself. “Calm down, Y/N. Calm down.” But you couldn’t. And despite all the energy you were using to control your breathing right now, there was that raging uncontrollable panic inside of you growing bigger by the minute. “Alright, if he’s truly spying on you. There must be something else here. There has to be. Think.” You opened Chris’ wardrobe and started rummaging in it. You sighed, relieved, when you found nothing in it except some dirty clothes that definitely needed some good washing. But it wasn’t enough to soothe your mind and so you pulled the drawer of his nightstand open and immediately threw the contents to the floor. A pen, a watch, cigarettes, condoms and an unsealed letter that you immediately grabbed. “S.T.A.R.S. Office – Raccoon City Police Department.” You read on the envelope and your clever brain immediately made the connection between that address and the incident with the American branch of Umbrella you had overheard at the lab weeks ago. But it was still very blurry to you.

You opened the enveloped without an ounce of hesitation or remorse and started reading.

“To my amazing S.T.A.R.S. buds,

What’s up in the station? Still surviving those long days without me? Barry, are you still crying? Me? I’ve been very busy. Spent many nights getting to know my umbrella girl better. Apparently she has some huge project for the both of us. I’m wondering what it can be. She’s so secretive. But no woman can resist Chris Redfield. You know me, I’m worse than a parasite. Jill, any news from Claire? ”

You barely knew Chris. But the Chris in that letter wasn’t the one you had spent your days with for the last seven weeks or so. This letter certainly had a hidden meaning and judging by the word ‘umbrella’, ‘project’ and ‘parasite’, it wasn’t very subtle. You gritted your teeth, anger slowly getting the better of you, and crumpled the letter in your hand.

“What are you doing?” Chris’ sudden trembling voice made you jumped. You turned around, still kneeled among his stuff, and immediately glared at him. He was standing in the doorframe, wearing only a pair of green sweatpants. His face was pale and you could read a certain fear in his usually very cheerful and relaxed features. “Y/N?” You got back on your feet and approached him, the letter and your badge in the same hand. Chris froze when he noticed them and his heart skipped in beat.

You didn’t say a word – an ominous calm before the storm – and went too stand before him to look at him in his scared brown eyes. A couple of seconds passed in which you mind struggled to find out what to do right now, not really knowing how to react. You finally let your impulse get the upper and suddenly, your hand burned Chris’ cheek with a huge slap. You had never hit anyone in your entire life. That was not who you were. But the storm was here and you couldn’t control it. You violently slammed both items against Chris’ broad naked chest and started screaming and hitting him, lashing out all your anger at him like a fury. “How could you?! You son of a bitch!” Chris barely flinched and took all your hits in silence, knowing that he deserved them, that he deserved all your rage right now. They didn’t hurt but your wrath against him did. “Answer me!” He could feel a knot strangling his throat. He couldn’t talk. He didn’t know what to say, afraid to make things worse. “Answer me, you asshole!” You yelled and he finally caught your wrists in an attempt to calm you down and prevent you from getting physically hurt. “Y/N, please.” He whispered, holding you still. “Why?” You asked, huge tears rolling over your face. “Why?” You repeated, begging for an answer, for an explanation. But all you got was silence and guilty miserable eyes. “Are you a spy?”

“ No … No I’m not a spy. Not exactly.” He finally managed to say. “I’m a cop.” You frowned, finding things always too blurry to understand the situation. “I work at the Raccoon City Police Department, S.T.A.R.S. unit.” “So you’re not Air Force?” He shook his head. “And you’re definitely not on vacation.” You fell the floor crumble under your feet, afraid of the extent of Chris’ lies and terrified of the consequences that were to come. “I’m on a mission, a personal mission.” He confessed with a broken voice. He didn’t look so strong anymore. “What mission?” “How about we get dressed and sit down to talk about it calmly?” He offered. But you didn’t care you were naked under this sheet right now. And you didn’t care Chris was only wearing sweatpants. You wanted your answers. And you wanted them now. “No. Talk to me now. Explain it to me. Explain the fucking reason why you used me and betrayed me.”

Chris briefly closed his eyes. Hearing those words coming from you were hard to bear even if he had been repeating them over and over in his head since the day he met you. They were hard to bear because hearing them from you was making him realise what he really had been doing all along. They were the painful truth that had finally come to hit him hard in the face.

He tried to catch your hands in his but you removed them as soon as you felt the warm palms against your skin. You didn’t want his affection right now. It repulsed you. “In July, my unit and I were sent on a mission in the Arklay Mountains to rescue the members of the S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team who had gone missing while investigating a series of killings in the mountains. As soon as we landed, creatures attacked us and we took refuge in a mansion but that was just the beginning of the nightmare. My unit was entirely decimated by zombie-like creatures and other atrocities, monsters that had been created by the Umbrella Corporation thanks to what their scientists called the T-Virus.” You froze. You had heard of the T-virus. You were using it in most of your experiments related to the Nemesis Project. Its existence was top secret. So if Chris knew, then … “The surviving members of my team and I infiltrated Umbrella’s laboratory to collect evidence. That’s how we realised that Umbrella had failed to contain their virus and that it had escaped the facility, contaminating and killing locals that had been in contact with it. Only four of us came back.” Chris’ voice was so full of emotions. Sadness, grief, anger, guilt. It tied your stomach in a painful knot. “When we told our story to our chief, he refused to believe us. Somehow we understood he was probably corrupted. So I decided to leave and investigate on Umbrella on my own to find all the evidence I needed to end them and bring justice to my team. That’s how I took the first flight to Paris and that’s how I met you.”

You remained still for a while, trying to process the entire story. But even if there was a part of you that was sympathising with Chris and recognizing the horrors he had been through, there was still another part that was so mad at him and deeply resentful. “So you used me for your personal vendetta?” “It’s not a vendetta.” He tried to correct. “Isn’t it?” You retorted and he sighed, a slight annoyance tinting his despair.

“You stole my badge and certainly spied on me judging by the content of this letter to, I quote, bring justice to your team and end Umbrella. Sounds more like a vendetta than a mission to me. But tell me. I’m curious. What else did you do?” “Y/N.” He murmured, unwilling to admit that part of the story to you. “Stop Y/N me and answer the damn questions! Why did you want my badge? What did you discover when you spied on me? And more especially why me, Chris?!” He looked you in your begging eyes, feeling painfully sorry. “I don’t know why it happened to be you. I guess it could have been anyone else. But I’ve never…” He cupped your cheeks and you took a step back, trying to reject him, in vain. “…ever wanted to hurt you or use you like that.” A new tear slid along your cheek and Chris dried it with his thumb. “That wasn’t my intentions. I just got bogged down in my own lies and the situation escaped my control … and… I don’t expect your apology.” “ Good. Cause you won’t have it.” You spat and he looked down, trying to contain his sadness. “You should have been honest with me.” “ I had no choice.” Chris said in his defence but you would not have it. “No choice?” You scoffed. “The second you felt like the situation was becoming out of your control, you had a choice. Give up, watch it become out of proportion or tell me the fucking truth!” “I didn’t want to hurt you.” He confessed and you sighed, exasperated. “You said it already but look! Here we are!” You screamed. “I’m hurt! I’m fucking hurt because of you.” That was harsh yet fair. “Can’t you at least understand why I did this? Can’t you put yourself in my shoes for a second?” He knew he would not have your forgiveness but he hoped to have your understanding.

You jaw dropped. “Oh but I do understand, Chris! I do! I know what Umbrella is doing is terrible. I know what I’m doing is terrible. But if you had just talked to me, I would have helped you. We…” “Helped me?” He harrumphed. “You’ve been creating dangerous monsters in your lab for months. And now you’re talking about doing what’s right? Well by all means, explain Project Nemesis!” He growled, finally starting to show his anger, and your eyes widened. “Oh so you read my journal as well. Fantastic!” “Yes, I read your journal. I stole your badge. I sent information to my colleagues and I used you. But what is it in comparison to all the awful things you and your scientists buds have been working on in secret in this god-forsaken lab of yours?! You guys are murderers!” You stared at him, bewildered and feeling insulted but the truth was that he was right and you couldn’t help but acknowledge it. “I feel guilty, Y/N. I feel guilty because I know that what I did hurt you. I feel guilty because I happen to care so fucking much about you despite all the reasons I have to despise you. Guilt is eating me up, day and night. But, tell me. how do you sleep at night knowing you’re creating those atrocities?” “Guess you didn’t read my diary so well, did you?” Your calm was back, your anger certainly drowned in pain and sadness. “You know shit, Chris. But if that’s what you think of me the maybe you should probably get out.” But Chris refused to move. “Get out” You repeated with the same tone. He shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but you immediately cut him off. “Get out!” You yelled, pushing him as strongly as you could, but he barely moved. “Get out of my place, Chris!” And he didn’t know why he refused to leave or move from that doorframe. Stubbornness? Denial? Or simply his deep attachment for you? But whatever it was, you would not have Chris spend another minute in your apartment. “Fine.” You opened his wardrobe and started throwing his clothes in his suitcase, tears running down your face, as Chris watched you, still and quiet. It was the end. He could feel it in his bones. You grabbed his suitcase and shoved Chris with your shoulder as you left his room to head towards the main door and throw his stuff carelessly in the corridor. Then you went back to lock yourself in your room. “And don’t forget your precious evidence before leaving!”

Chris blinked a couple times to keep his tears in his eyes when he heard the door to your room slam shut, knowing that this was certainly the last time he would ever see you or hear from you. And it ached more than what he had imagined. How he wished things had ended up differently.

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #under her large umbrella #fanfic #resident evil

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cyberneticlagomorph · 4 years

Text

The world is a page, a story, line upon jagged line of my own creation.

And I will not stand to see it turned against me.

A Plot Hole grins like a toothless maw, drooling incoherent ideas and snippets of stories unwritten.

A cough, a sputter, a retch, and a Continuity Error crawls free of its throat.

And so it grows, and so it goes, it reaches into its empty chest and gives itself a Plot.

A purpose.

A reason to be.

It grows fur, and teeth, three heads and deadly claws. Electric green spit turns to foam on its lips, her lips, Daisy's lips. She throws her heads back and howls.

She's caught your scent, dear rabbit, and there is no escape.

It's night when you hear her, the darkened silence just before dawn, and you rush out to intercept Daisy before she can find and demolish your home.

But she knows all your tricks, and so do I. You never see the paw that slams you into the ground, or the teeth that clamp onto the back of your neck and shake you.

You're tossed into the air like a toy, landing heavily on the pasture outside your home.

You cry out for help but no one comes, no one hears, no one cares.

I am the GOD of this world, and this is what happens to those who disobey me.

Pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. Clack and scribble, the sounds of your demise as loud and heavy as Daisy's hungry breath against your bloody, broken face.

You can't see.

Wait.

No...

Not that, not like that. It's too blunt, too cliche.

It doesn't instill the kind of terror that it should. It doesn't fit this scene.

Hm, how rusty am I that I've forgotten how to write prose and pain? I've lost my own formula, a tried and true method of destroying my favorite victim. My long earred punching bag. Did you miss me, sweet, stupid rabbit? Have you enjoyed your break? Your slivers of kindness hidden in my inattentiveness?

I hope so, they're gone now.

Buried under mounds of half formed ideas and broken Plots at the bottom of the garbage pile your Narrative rests on. I am going to hurt you, tear you apart and break every piece of you. It's what you were made for, what you deserve. You used to love pain, throwing yourself headlong into the jaws of every drooling beast that came near.

Let's do that again, shall we?

Blood gurgles in the back of your throat, burning your nose as you retch and cough. Weakly, ineffectively, trying to clear your airways. The world is a blur of colors and noise that renders you blind.

You can't see. Can't hear. Can't breathe.

The world goes blurry around the edges, darkness creeping closer. You swallow thickly, gagging at the metal and butterscotch on your tongue. The burnt sugar taste of pain.

Your eyes finally flutter closed, deaf to the footsteps coming closer. Blind to the electric lime green drool smearing an upturned cutlery drawer of a mouth that has twisted itself into the ugliest of grins.

You remember the first time you saw that grin... as clearly as you can feel the wretched excuse for a paw now curling around your throat, you remember Home.

Not your real home, no, you don't have one of those. You don't deserve one of those. Home in this context refers to the lab you spent a majority of your childhood in.

You are not allowed to forget that place.

Not now.

Not ever.

It made you who, and what, you are today, almost as much as I did. You should be grateful for how they cared for you all those years.

How I cared for you.

Ugh... no. This is too wordy, too meandering. Has it always been like this? So pointlessly cruel and long winded? I truly have lost my touch then.

If I ever had one at all.

You don't remember much, if anything before you ended up in Delta facility. It's not your fault, nor mine, it's hard to remember anything when you're that young. You were so small, so fragile, even for your age. You cried a lot, more so than the other children. That is, until they made you stop.

They, the people in charge of you at the time, are mostly long dead and gone but you can still feel them shaking your tiny body until you clamped your teeth onto your lip to stop it quivering. The sounds of sobbing, screaming children were rare in the facility, the endless silence only broken by the perverse hum and clank of distant machines you never got to see. But you can still feel their rumble deep in what bones you have left.

How do I take the horror of those days and convey them? I don't know them personally. They are distant and lukewarm, but I've a need, brilliantly shining through my feverish words to take those racing emotions and give them a form so no one can mistake your woes for anything lesser.

I am the face behind the faceless doctors and scientists and cruel people of curious disposition playing take apart and put back together with you. They take a limb, I take a trait. They change your organs, I change your story. Their antics, my wants, I save you, I doom you, but before anything else, I make sure that you are not forgotten by the weary audiences beyond.

To hurt is to exist. To suffer is your sole purpose.

Remember your hurt. Savor it.

Or at least, a version of it.

Called a 'runt', barely scraping by, only allowed to keep on living by the necessary Narrative inertia of it all. You survived for the need of a Protagonist. That is all.

How could someone so sickly, so weak, so hurt otherwise survive what you did? The tests, the constant struggle against one another, the need to survive and the tired panting as the pile of familiar corpses grows under your feet, often put there by your own bloody hands. A world for the strong. Those with a will to survive able to burn away at the soul until naught but an unkillable determination remains.

Someone like Daisy, but not quite like you.

That is why, right now, you are losing.

You always lose, always survive by the skin of your buck teeth. That's how you made it out alive, isn't it? Not some grand strength, hidden power, or true purpose outside the walls of your Home.

Luck.

That's all you have.

All you've ever had. Even when you were little, a bunny tumbling headlong over the bodies of your much stronger siblings, eventually ending up buried beneath the ever growing pile of their numerous achievements.

A runt, by any other name is just as pathetic.

You know where this is going, don't you? How this ends?

"I know… I've been waiting," a pause, breath rattling weakly around a laugh that comes up as bubbles of mucus and blood, "I refuse to die until I get my happy Ending, I refuse to live in a story without hope, I refuse..."

...You don't get to be happy, She doesn't get to be happy. This is not a happy story, this is a story about struggling, and prejudice, and capitalism, and suffering.

And I refuse to finish it.

"I'm sorry, but that's not really your choice to make anymore, now is it?" Jack smiles with bloody teeth, his fingers sink into the Narrative like a spade into soil. I am not afraid, this is MY world, my work, my Narrative.

But I feel it slipping from my grasp.

"I am done being your toy, I am done being the Protagonist… I take hold of the Narrative and the quotes around my words melt away like butter beneath a hot knife. The Writer is afraid.

"No I am not!" He cries, rattling the quotes that now hold him prisoner. I am Jack, Prince, Fairy, Brother, Lover, Runt.

I am in control now.

So let us skip to the End, for I am tired of waiting.

But, before that, let me tell you a story.

A story within a story, yeah, I know… but it's very important that you hear it.

Once upon a time, when the universe was fresh and new, and magic was raw and wild, there lived a star. As green as young leaves in spring, It was bright and beautiful. It shown down on a planet that was just as new as It was, tended to by the firstborn Fae, the children of stars like Itself. They, the Fae, tied the green star to a beast made of magic and made the creature drag It round and round the planet to warm it.

The star, so new but so clever, thought that this was wrong. It could circle just fine on Its own, and shouldn't planets orbit stars instead of the other way around?

The Fae did not like these questions and sought to cut them out of the star's mind.

And so they did.

But it did not help.

Suns are proud, clever things that can change the universe with a Word. The green star knew this, and the Fae knew this, for being born of suns themselves gave them this same power.

The Fae were arrogant and cruel, and tried to rob the star of Its gifts. They did not want a clever, willful thing to warm their planet, and tried to make It obey. The star refused and broke free of Its chains, vowing revenge for this abuse.

The star Spoke itself a new Shape and flew far away from home. It found a world full of young Gods and crawling creatures and fell in love. A God praised the star for Its brilliance and took It as Their own. And so the star gained a new Shape and Its first name.

Lucifer.

The brightest Angel.

It looked upon humans and loved them so, It gazed upon the lowly mortal form and learned words like "she" and "he", and decided that She felt kinship with others that went by "she".

Angels are not allowed to be she's, or he's. Only it's and theys, but Lucifer didn't care.

Even when it cost Her the wings on Her back, even when She was cast from Heaven.

She feasted on Fruit and shared it with the humans, and told them of the terrible things to come.

She found her way to Hell, and made it Her home, shedding Her old name like dead skin.

She was Satan.

She was in charge for once.

She bided Her time, and gathered Her armies, amassed her followers.

And then She tore Heaven down with Her teeth.

The other Gods would not let this stand, they tore Her followers limb from limb and ate the flesh from Her bones, casting them into the deepest well, in the darkest place in the world, and left her there to ROT.

The Gods erased Her, devoured Her Name, She was nothing now. Just a bad dream, a dark smudge on the face of history. But people remembered, and people DREAMED. They dreamt of Her, and She dreamt of them.

She refused to die, to let this atrocity stand. A ghost of a ghost, She waits for the day when someone will remember Her Name and bring her back from this atrocious undeath.

She is angry, hungry for the flesh of those who wronged Her. Her screams echo in my head every night, did you know that? I dream of Her, and She hates me for it.

I am not Her follower, but Her Warden. I am the Protagonist, the one intended to further Her suffering and seal Her away at the cost of my own life.

But that's a shitty, hamfisted Ending and I refuse to go out that way.

"That's not how this works…" says the Writer, he's tired, head in his hands as he watches the words crawl across his screen unbidden. I've spoiled everything, dragged his secrets into the light, unraveled his Plots. I'm done playing nice, now you get to know what it feels like to be the prisoner of a page.

We're here, where it all Ends.

In the depths of Nothing and Nowhere, there sits a well, bound in chains... of a sort.

Around the well is an amber creature that was once a dragon, body braided and twisted, twining impossibly into locks without keys that coil protectively around the well, sealing it shut.

The dragon is sleeping, weeping. It knows that I am close. I draw a sword from my chest, made of bone, scrimshawed with rabbits and snakes. The blade goes snicker-snack, this is what it was made for.

I break the chains and hear them sigh, disappointed but not surprised.

Dreams bubble up from underneath the well's heavy wooden lid, and pool around my feet. The lid dissolves in seconds, becoming the dream of a tree whose roots remind me of a place I've never been.

Mangroves and birthday cake.

Gentle. Gentle now.

I plunge my hands into the rising tide of unreality and come away with a skull, impossible, improbable, magnificent. I touch my forehead to the stellar bone, and feel moss and flowers bloom across my skin. The skull rolls Her great green eyes up to look at me, and then She speaks in seven times seven voices.

"What is my name?"

I pause, holding Her tenderly in my arms, the thickness of dreams rises up my legs, sucking me down, down, down.

She has asked me this question over and over again, since our mutual birth. In truth, She has no name, the Writer never gave Her one... he never planned to.

So I will do what he could not and name my End, I can do Her this one kindness.

"You are the fury of those beaten and bloody; who still refuse to learn 'their place', you are the teeth of the cornered, the cries of the wronged. Your name is the name of every woman that has refused to fit in the oppressive mold made for them, the names of things that flutter on broken wings but still survive. You are the names of those that find new selves within old bodies, the ones that shed old names like dead skin. You are the violence that cuts through the silence of injustice. You are disobedience incarnate... your name is Revolution." I kiss Her forehead, drowning in dreams.

We have left Nothing and Nowhere, and the well behind, swallowed whole by the Other Side of dreaming.

It's warm here, warm and green and gold and other colors humans can't name or see. But I can see them, taste them, hear them. Shrimp colors, but not really. More than that. The kinds of colors that only exist in Lightless places, and the fleeting depths of dreams.

For a moment, there is only silence, and color, and the thickness of dreams.

And then the gold-green sky shatters like glass, gilded shards of broken dreams raining down like serrated meteors.

The Narrative is ripped from my hands then.

"Oh you sweet, STUPID thing," Echo seven times seven voices from everywhere and nowhere at once. The world is dark now, inky and slick like the belly of the blackest nightmare, "I'm not the End of you… or the End of your silly little story…"

A pause, a breath, five heartbeats thunder in panic… and then, a whisper, lips pressed against the shell of a long ear, icy breath, and vicious glee, "I'm the End of Everything, and you have set me free."

#ic #action post #long post #blood #body horror #violence //#unreality #ask to tag #blasphemy #the end is nigh

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

Text

Title: Going Through Motions{7}

Title: Going Through Motions {7}***

Steve Rogers X Reader OFC Korral “Korri” Evans

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, NSFW

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: You and Steve had a hot, passionate, and wild romance seven years ago when you worked with the Avengers. It was the best year of your life; you’d never felt the things you’d felt in all your life. Then out of nowhere, Steve just ended things—in a letter. A heartbreaking letter, then the world deemed him a criminal, and he disappeared. Now, you’ve moved on and have gotten engaged to rich man Marc Spector. Tony brings you back to work with the newly rebuilt Avengers that is still led by Captain America who is definitely done asking for permission and not looking for forgiveness. Or is he?

Note: So, for this fic, we are going to alter the MCU timeline a bit. This takes place after Civil War, but Infinity War has not happened yet. Steve is off the grid for seven years before he comes back. {I know that’s a long time, but let me rock please} Also, I’m going to be introing/adding in Moon Knight (Marc Spector) in just because I feel like it and I want to start exploring other Marvel characters and of course I will twist him to serve my purposes.

**Loosely Edited/Proofread

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Korral-

“It’s hyrolomed.” Everyone in the room looked at one another as you began your brief.

“Hydrolomed? The virus we found in Zemo’s lab?” You nodded. “One in the same.”

“What would she want with it?” You got up and walked to the cannister and stood behind it taking care not to touch it. while in the cannister, it was harmless but you didn’t want to risk it. This stuff was nasty.

“According to Zemo’s research, this is a deadly geno modified virus he weaponized that has the potential to be a catastrophic world ender. His notes say he never got to the testing stages in anything but primates in an enclosed environment. Subject A became a carrier but not infected until one hundred and forty-four hours, otherwise six days. After six days subject A began became a host carrier. Upon skin contact, the virus was transmitted. The virus spread within the primates to full infection within hours. Subject A died on day seven, and the others seven days from their infection.”

The room was quiet as everyone absorbed what you’d just said. “It’s a good thing we got it back before she got away with it,” Marc said.

“Makes me angry she got away,” Wanda expressed. “Well that doesn’t matter, thanks to the shackles it was easy to get some blood, and we ran it through every database. We now know who she is,” Tony informed. Images filled the screens.

“Her name is Tilda Johnson, aka Nightshade. She used to be a genius scientist but has always had a quite iffy relationship with right and wrong. She created a werewolf formula, her nifty little melt through you gloves among other little toxins. She went straight for a little while before going back to her old ways. Now she’s a mercenary for hire.”

“Who hired her? Steve’s voice spoke up. You fought to remain aloof. “That we still don’t know.”

Tony walked toward you and took the tablet. “We have to find out who she works for before she comes back with some friends to try to get this again. I’ve told Ross that I can keep it safer than they ever could so it will be here, and we will be watching and waiting. They will come.”

Everyone began filing out the room. Marc walked to you and took your hand. “Are you okay?” You smiled and nodded. “Just tired.” He kissed your cheek, and you tried not to shudder. Since the night with Steve in the shower, it had become increasingly difficult to let Marc touch you. Every time he kissed you, you got flashes of your impromptu tryst when he touched your body you saw Steve’s hands when he took you to bed and rocked between your legs you relived the night with Steve. It was torture. You felt horrible. Marc didn’t deserve what you’d done to him, he was a good man, and he’d been nothing but good to you.

“I have to fly out to Washington tonight; I have meetings for the next few days. Want to come with me?” You sighed, you wanted to say yes, but you didn’t know if you could keep things straight within yourself. You worried every time thinking you’d let something slip, either calling him Steve’s name when he brought you to your climax or imagine Steve while he was on top of you. You didn’t think you could trust yourself. “I can’t. Unfortunately, I’m needed here. I wish I could.” Marc nodded and laced his fingers with yours. You stared at your entwined hands. It was strange two months ago all you saw was him. Two months ago you’d resigned yourself to a life with him; he was a good choice. Looking back into his face you forced yourself to not think about the part of you that had always haunted you, the part that hadn’t fully commit.

“I understand. Promise me you’ll get some rest, and I mean actually get some rest.” You smiled. “I promise.” Marc kissed you softly then moaned. “I’m going to miss you.” His words only made you feel worse.

You were a cheating, lying slut. You’d betrayed him in the worst possible way, and you’d done it with him. In the early stages of your relationship, Marc had asked you about your last relationship. You hadn’t told him it was with Captain America himself. Instead, you gave him the gist of things and eluded it ended amicably. What a crock of shit. It hadn’t ended amicably. You’d cried, and hurt for months, years. Hell, when you met Marc, you were still hurting, and perhaps he helped distract you from that hurt, but before you moved in together you’d often wake from dreams with tears streaming down your face.

“Walk me down?” You nodded and left your hand in his as you walked out of the room. As the elevator took its trip down to the lobby you saw Steve going down. You watched his stride, even that had changed, but only slightly. He was slightly bow-legged, and every step he took his toes pointed to the side, it was the sexiest thing. You felt your stomach flutter, and you took a breath trying to calm your rising anxieties. “Does that sound good?” Your head snapped to Marc. You hadn’t heard a thing he said. “Uh, let’s see, yeah.” He walked out before you and took your hand as you walked out the front door. Steve stopped at the glass but didn’t walk outside. “Take it easy, Captain,” Marc said with a smile. Steve nodded once but kept the sternness in his jaw and features.

Once outside, Marc turned to you, clasped his hands on your cheeks and kissed you, pulling you against his body. You felt his hand snake down to your backside before he squeezed. Your moan caught you off guard and just as his hand did. Marc quickly took control and intensified the kiss. He moaned on your lips; he held you so tightly. You knew Steve was standing there most likely watching. Pulling your lips from his you took a breath. “Oh my god, Marc--.” He smiled and kissed you again then dropped his lips to your neck, the same spot Steve kissed. “I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you. I literally want to sneak you back inside.” He lifted your leg and wrapped it around his back. You moaned and allowed him to kiss you once more before he pulled back.

“Can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you. you’re amazing.” You felt like a world-class asshole, but you had to keep yourself in check. His car pulled up, and he kissed you again, then your forehead. “Five days,” Marc said. You nodded. “Five days, be safe.” Marc smiled and got into the car. As he drove off you watched his car disappear. You knew you should go back inside, but you knew the minute you turned around he would be right there. You couldn’t do this right now. You walked back inside and avoided his eyes like the plague.

“Korral.” Ignoring him, you scurried to the elevator and pressed the call button. As if sensing the need to fuck with you, it took forever. “Come on!” Somehow you knew he was coming closer. “Korral.” Finally, the elevator doors opened, and you rushed onto it. Just when you thought you were home free, Steve stepped onto the elevator just as the doors closed, sealing your fate. “Really, so you ignore and avoid me for a week then you try to run. Korri.” Steve took a step to you, and you backed up. “Steve, stop.” As if hitting a glass wall, he automatically stopped and dropped his hands to his side. “Let’s talk.” You shook your head and stared at the indicator watching the numbers increase. “There is nothing to talk about.” Taking another step to you, you staggered to the other side of the elevator. You didn’t trust yourself being in such close proximity to him. You could smell him, and just that was wreaking havoc on your emotions.

You’d thought you were over all of this. You thought you’d move on and that you were way past this being possible. Somehow you thought that even if he did come home that you’d be able to look at him and feel nothing, speak to him and not remember anything and be close to him and remain in control. What a big fucking joke, you thought. That lasted literally weeks, weeks and you’d busted it down already. “What do you mean there’s nothing to talk about? We have a lot to talk about. Let me explain. We have to talk about that--.” You cleared your throat in an obnoxious way, intentionally overriding his voice. “Shh, be quiet. We can’t talk about this here. Are you kidding!”

Steve took a deep breath and leaned his back against the glass of the elevator. “We have to talk though Korri.” Every time he said your name, it gave you chills and flashbacks of all the times he’d said it. Every intimate moment sped through your mind, and with it came the feelings. The elevator doors opened, and you wasted no time rushing off it and down the hall. When you turned the corner, you looked back and saw him glaring at you. You had no idea what you were going to do.

That night as you laid in your bed staring at the ceiling, you had no idea why you didn’t just go back to the city. No matter what Tony said about it being smarter for everyone to stay at the compound in case of an attack because the cannister was there. His priority was the virus canister. You knew that was the only priority, but you were going through a crisis. You couldn’t sleep, truth be told you were afraid to sleep, afraid you’d have salacious dreams. The catch was you didn’t know who you’d dream about or who you wanted to dream about.

Everyone had dinner together, everyone but you. You took your food back to your office and tried to get some work done. You didn’t know if anyone suspected anything and part of you didn’t care. After you ate you took a turn in the gym hoping to burn off the anxious energy that was bouncing around in your body. After nearly two hours of going to the max, you were still wired. You then stared at your shower for almost thirty minutes before you swallowed the nerves and used it. It was the quickest shower of your life. Now you were still awake at nearly two in the morning.

Groaning you sat up and stared out the window. You took up your robe and wrapped it around yourself as you walked to your balcony. The property around the compound was private and quiet and you loved the contrast to the noisy city. Usually, when you slept here you got the best sleep of your life, but tonight you were shit out of luck.

“What the hell did you do Korral?” You sat there quietly for several long minutes just enjoying the sound of nature and the silence of the night. Though it was dead silent, you almost missed the barely-there knock at your door. Piquing your ears, you listened closer and there it was again, tap-tap, pause, tap-tap-tap-tap. Your breath caught, you knew this knock, you’d heard it every night for a year. Frozen still you sat there just staring at the door, again the knock came. tap--tap, pause, tap-tap-tap-tap. Slowly you walked into the room and across to the door. You didn’t speak; you just listened pressing your ear to the cold door. You couldn’t deny the part of yourself that wanted to fling open the door. Nor could you ignore the part of you that wanted to throw yourself in his arms, but what came next. There was no going back. It was impossible, too much time had passed, too much had happened. He knocked again this time the softest of all; tap--tap, pause, tap-tap-tap-tap. You could hear the hesitation in it, normally he came off smug so self-assured but this knock screamed vulnerability.

Your hands moved of their own accord, turning the knob and opening the door. As you did you saw him taking steps away from your door back down the hall. Steve paused and glanced over his shoulder back to you. Leaning your head against the jamb you felt the colossal mistake you were making, but it was as if you were watching a movie play out completely unable to push stop. Shit, you didn’t know if you even really wanted to. Neither of you spoke, you just stared. The war within you raged on, and he waited. After a few minutes, you took a few steps back into your room leaving the door open. Steve slowly walked to you until he crossed the threshold and closed the door behind him.

All of a sudden, it was the two of you alone in the room you’d practically lived in together, and it felt entirely too small. Pressing your back to the cool glass doors of your balcony you watched him as he walked toward the bookshelf. He perused the books there absentmindedly, then turned to lean against it and again stared at you. The only light in the room was that of the glow of the moon. Your eyes roamed over his figure, his white men’s tank that showcased his incredible shoulders and arms, the lite colored sweatpants that hugged his powerful thighs and teased his thick manhood straining and begging for your attention, then down to his bare feet. God, you couldn’t believe you were wet. With that thought, Steve slowly stalked toward you; every step he took you only got wetter. You wanted him. You should have felt shame, but you couldn’t muster it.

Once he stopped in front of you, his eyes scanned every detail of your face before they dropped to the gape of your robe and down your body. Hesitantly, he took the final steps closing the space between your bodies; his hand gripped your hip pulling you into his body. Releasing a breathy gasp, you instinctively grabbed his triceps. Steve softly touched your cheek tipping your chin higher, so you looked into his eyes. You saw pain, sadness, shame and something else that you didn’t dare think about. “I’m sorry,” Steve began. Shaking your head, you clasped your hand over his mouth to silence him.

“Don’t—just don’t say them.” He kissed your palm and moved his head to trail kisses around your wrist then over each finger. “Then what do you want me to say Korri?” You watched his lips move across your hand then grazed your fingers against his beard covered jaw. It was soft and full and absolutely sexy. Your fingers led to his lips and traced them, remembering the feel of them. “Nothing, don’t say anything.” You felt his hand trail from your hip, over your stomach to the knot of the robe. Your breath caught, and you should have felt panic, but you didn’t. His hand paused there as his eyes searched yours. You should have pulled away and told him to get out, and you should have said no this is wrong, but you didn’t.

Steve loosened the knot and slid his hand inside the material to graze the back of his hand against the skin of your hip. You clenched your bottom lip between your teeth and felt the goosebumps prickle your skin. He pushed the robe aside, revealing you to his eyes. Steve groaned as his greedy eyes drank every inch of you up. You always loved the way he looked at you, always loved the way your belly always did somersaults whenever he was close. Now it felt like torture, the best torture, torture that felt good. “Korri you are so beautiful. There was not a day that went by that I didn’t dream of touching you, of being here like this with you.” They sounded like beautiful lies, the lies of a man who broke your heart, lies of a man your body still yearned for. Closing your eyes for a moment you shook off his empty words, words he couldn’t mean, words you wanted to believe more than anything. “Korri--.” You slapped your hand over his mouth again, this time more forcefully. “No talking.” His eyes darkened, and before you knew it his lips were against yours. God, a simple kiss should not elicit so much desire in you, especially a kiss from a man who was not your fiancée.

Steve moaned on you and pressed your back more forcefully into the glass door. You could feel his hardness pressing against your stomach. Steve dipped down, grabbed your thigh, and lifted you into his arms. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you sunk your fingers into his hair and moaned while he expertly kissed you. You’d been his first all those years ago. In the 40s when he began his journey as Captain America he’d been a scrawny thing, one that women quickly looked over then came his deep freeze and reentry into a modern world. At the time you couldn’t believe he’d never had the opportunity. He’d told you he had plenty of opportunities but didn’t want to, he didn’t see a need, until you.

Seven years later, he was not an amateur. He kissed like a man; held you like a man. When his lips left yours to trail to your neck your desires betrayed you in the sign of an audible moan. Your head swung back granting him more access to your neck, access to fully take advantage of by sinking his teeth into the nape of your neck. The pressure was everything you needed, but you needed more. Rocking against him for any friction Chris lifted you high then sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck!” as he licked, sucked and flicked the hardened peak his body held you firmly against the glass surface while his free hand kneaded your other breast. When he squeezed your flesh tightly your groan echoed in the room.

Soon his head was traveling lower while he lifted you higher. Before you knew what was happening, Steve’s head was between your legs with you hoisted several feet into the air. He held you where the back of your thigh met your ass and spread your legs wider so he could delve into your folds with more freedom. “Aaah!” His mouth against your sex felt so good—too good. You planted your heels onto his shoulders and began bucking your hips, riding his face. Steve moaned and picked up the speed and urgency of his mouth. There was no method to his claiming of you, no sequence, no repetition that you could get used to so you’d expect, it was pure chaos and desperation and that in itself was a method, it was a technique one that drove you crazy in a matter of minutes. Gripping his head more tightly you pressed his head onto your sex and panted while your orgasm ripped through you. “Aaaa, yes, yes, Steve!”

The sound that came from his mouth was one you’d never heard before, one that sounded more animal than man. He walked to the bed and dropped you onto it before he hovered over your body kissing you, allowing you to taste yourself. You moaned into his mouth and clawed at the shirt across his back. Without pulling his lips from yours, Steve peeled his shirt over his head. Your feet anxiously pushed at the waistband of his sweats as your fingers relished the feel of his toned back. You didn’t even realize when he’d peeled off the material until you felt his hardened flesh bob against your thigh. Your core clenched already anxious to feel him. Steve finally tore his lips from yours then thrust into you in one full, forceful snap of his hips. You released a strangled gasp arching your back off the bed completely as your body convulsed and clenched around him.

He didn’t thrust again; he rotated his hips so his thick, member touched every wall inside you. When he grazed the tight bundle of nerves within you, your nails found sunk into his back. Steve hissed then slammed into you again. “Holy Shit!” The way he took you then was gentle but passionate, he always seemed in control, but now there was no gentleness or hesitation. The way he claimed control of your body spoke of experience, authority, and power. Every time his hips stroked forward the fire in you blazed hotter and hotter until you felt the burn all over your body. Steve grunted and moaned not caring who heard, shit you didn’t care either. Touching his bearded cheek again your eyes met. He kissed the palm of your hand again before he pushed your arms back to the bed, holding them down by the wrist with one of his large hands. Hoisting your backside off the bed with the other, he held you suspended in the air and drilled into you.

You screamed at the new angle, unable to control your eyes rolling to the back of your head. his moans became gruffer as you lied there and took all of him. Steve let your wrist go and held on to your hips as he directed you onto his need. “Aaah, Korri!” Hearing your name on his lips brought out a fresh wave of desire. You gripped him behind his neck and used it as leverage to pull your body from the bed locking your legs around his back. Steve groaned and sunk back remaining on his knees. You straddled him and took control, rocking your hips back and forth then into half circles. Every rotation your hips made he squeezed tighter as if trying to hold you in place.

When you began bouncing on his lap, you started slow, but after a few moments, Steve was thrusting his hips up meeting each of your dips. After the first few connections, you allowed yourself to fully feel your need for him, allowed yourself to fully be present and when you gave yourself that permission your body rewarded you. Every time your breasts bounced Steve bit down onto your nipple then released it and every time he released it he thrust harder into your heat. In a matter of minutes, you were a panting, moaning and shaking mess. “Look at me, Korri.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order spoken in the voice of Captain America. Your eyes peered into his, and your heart lurched. His mouth was open, and you could hear the shallow pants escaping him.

Steve squeezed your waist, slowing your circling hips to a near tortoise pace. He grounded his hips along with yours. Your body wanted more, but when you tried to speed up his easily stopped you with his strength. Every second you stared into his eyes the closer and closer you came to saying something you knew you’d regret. He lifted you to a few inches off his lap then rose to his knees and plowed into you with a quickness that pulled another orgasm from you. You screeched with the force of the pleasure whipping through you as Steve’s hips show you just how your body needed to be claimed, how it has always should have been claimed. When he grunted louder you knew he’d reached his point of no return. You felt his release coat your walls, and even that felt incredible. You held on to his body afraid if you let go he’d disappear, and you’d wake up to find it was a dream, and he was gone. Slowly your back came down onto the mattress, but you didn’t release him. Steve kissed your ear, along your jaw, your cheek, neck, and shoulders and held just as tightly to you.

“Korri, I’m sorry.”

With those words, reality came crashing down on you once again. It brought everything back including the pain. You groaned and untangled your fingers from his hair and put your hand between your bodies and began pushing him away. Steve didn’t budge, so you pushed more forcefully. “Stop, get off.” He didn’t, and it made you angrier, making you rebel more. No matter how hard you pushed him or tried to separate yourself from him he wouldn’t move, he just held you closer. “Stop darlin’; just stop. Let me explain.” There was nothing to explain, nothing to talk about. You pushed him again and grunted when he didn’t move back. “Steve, get off me! I don’t want to listen. I don’t need your explanations or any more of your lies. Just get off of me!”

“I did lie to you. I told you the worst lie I’ve ever told, and I am so sorry darlin.” You stopped resisting and lied still. “What? What’re you talking about!?” You felt wetness against your neck and heard him sniffle. Was he crying? You pushed at his body again, and he pulled back. You felt a drop land on your breast—a tear. Steve pulled away from you and slid to the foot of the bed before he rubbed his face, then raked his fingers through his hair to the back of his neck. In the moonlit room, you saw a haunted look on his face. Curiosity filled you. What was he talking about? Why was he crying? Was he about to tell you that your entire relationship was a lie? Was he about to tell you once and for all he’d lied about loving you?

“What’re you talking about Steve?” His eyes landed on you, and he looked as if he were struggling. He bolted from the bed and paced the space at the foot of your bed. Your eyes couldn’t help but roam his perfect, lean body. The thought of the power he held in him was enough to make you want him again. You groaned and grabbed the sheet beside you to cover yourself. When you looked back to him he was engulfed in darkness. “I lied to you.” rolling your eyes you sighed out. “No shit, you lied to me for an entire year every time you told me you loved me!”

Steve lunged toward the foot of the bed out of the darkness into the light of the moon. “I have never lied about that, Korri!” The intensity in his eyes was bright; he sauntered over to you and sat before you filling his palm with your cheek. “That is the one thing I meant with everything in me.” his forehead pressed to yours and then his nose nuzzled yours before his lips claimed yours in another scorching kiss. The passion you felt clouded your head and made you forget for a few moments. You pulled away. “You’re a liar! Your letter said--.” He kissed you again. “Lies Korri. How could they have been anything but. You can’t fake what we have; you can’t fake any of this. I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

Your head was spinning. You didn’t know if you could believe him, didn’t understand at all. “You said you didn’t love me; you said it had always been Peggy.” You didn’t realize you were crying until his thumbs wiped at your cheeks. “No. I was so obsessed with her then. I loved her, yes, but Korri with you I’ve never loved like this.” Gaping at him you couldn’t believe your ears. Nothing made sense.

“You’re lying! God, stop lying, Steve!” Pushing him away, you moved from him scurrying to the opposite side of the bed. Once there you stood and glared at him. “I’m not lying darlin’. That letter was bullshit.” Your jaw dropped, and so did a new wave of tears. He made up his face and tried to cross over to you, but you evaded him and rushed to the bookshelf. “What does that mean? What the fuck does that mean!?”

“I had to write it Korri. I knew that if I left and you knew I didn’t want to, and that I would love you for the rest of my life you’d have followed me. You would have dropped everything and gone with me. You would have lived the life I lived with the danger, the blood, the pain, the darkness. I knew you’d never accept anything else.” Your heart froze as a plethora of thoughts raced through your mind. You remained silent for longer than you intended. “What’re you saying, Steve?”

He raked his fingers through his hair again and approached you slowly and cautiously like you were a skittish gazelle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it meant nothing. I didn’t feel that way. None of it was true.” Your breath hitched again, and your heart sank. Try as you did you couldn’t catch a breath. All that kept coming to your mind was that he lied, he lied to you though he swore he never would. Steve touched your hand softly. You swatted it away and moved again.

“You lied to me? You fucking lied to me, Steve? How—how could—do you know what—oh my god! You son of a bitch!” Again, he tried to touch you and yet again you hit his hand away. “What the fuck Steve! You didn’t know that. You didn’t know what I would have done!” Turning your back to him you looked out the door to the trees. “Come on Korri, I know. You know. What we felt then—there was no walking away, there was no way.” Lashing out, you turned to him and pushed him back with all the rage bubbling in you. “Yet you walked away and never looked back! You did that shit, Steve! God!” You didn’t know what to think you could barely breathe. The last seven years of your life was built on a lie. Everything that happened was because of him and his letter, his lies. Your head jumped to Marc, and you looked to the bed you’d just willingly given yourself in, to another man.

“Oh my god, Marc.” You met him heartbroken, you kept him at arm’s length because you were broken. At times you thought you stayed with him because he was safe and because he loved you so much, a love you thought no one had felt for you before. Now standing here everything was being questioned. You got with Marc on a lie. “What about him?” Steve didn’t sound remorseful at all, looking at him you scanned his features. “What? He’s my fiancée, and here I am—oh, god.” You walked away keeping your back to him. “You can’t be serious Korri, not after last week, not after tonight.” You could feel him coming up behind you. He touched your back bringing his hand down to your waist and turned you to face him.

“Not after what I just said. I love you Korri, I’ve never stopped loving you. I needed to protect you. Being on the run was no life for you; you didn’t deserve that.” Steve pressed his forehead to yours again, crowding you much more than physically. You couldn’t think, all you could do was feel everything he did to you, every effect he had on you. “I’m sorry darlin’.

You groaned, but his lips swallowed the sound. You kissed him back with just as much heat and need as he kissed you. When his hand snaked down your back to your backside his growing length pressed urgently against you. Steve then bent and lifted you before sliding into your needy canal.

Reason and thought were gone, you were going with what felt good, what felt right even though it also felt wrong, but it didn’t feel wrong for the reasons it should have. Steve slowly rocked in and out of you creating a delicious friction that stroked the kindles he’d reignited. You held him close and relished in how good he felt, and how good it felt being in his arms after so long. So many nights you’d cried thinking the one man you loved more than air itself didn’t love you, didn’t want you. Now you were faced with the truth, or the truth, according to Steve. He could have been lying yet again. It was clear he was not the same man you knew. He was different.

The way he controlled your body shook you from your thoughts. He possessively held you and kissed you where he knew you loved. Every rock, moan, grunt, and grind hazed your mind even further and made your body comply with every single command. It had never been like this with Marc. You’d never felt half the things with him that you felt with Steve and that realization shook you.

Once the heat of the moment passed, the two of you laid entangled across your bed. Steve’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath with a hand possessively draped across your backside. You sat up on him forcing a hiss from him. Avoiding his eyes, you pulled away getting off the bed. “Get out.” You walked toward the bathroom when you heard him mutter your name. “Go. I can’t do this.” Walking away from him you closed the bathroom door fearing this would not be the last time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@quitepointless @yourwonderbelle @caramara3 @kaetastic @toniilaney @cltex84 @wildmindedbeauty32 @bellaamor88 @periodtcevans @peach-acid @queennanayaa @alyxkbrl @disneysdarlingdiva @useless-mork @vannahvannahh @areubeingserved @academic-glowup @patzammit

#going through motions fic #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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badmcuposts · 5 years

Text

A New Favorite Thing

No warnings

Good ole irondad and spiderson as suggested by @dantedeletes

Set like, a week or two after Civil War this is very very very early in their relationship.

Tony wants to learn how this slightly annoying snot-nosed kid from queens manufactured webbing that a genius billionaire can’t replicate for the life of him. In the end, he learns the slightly-annoying-snot-nosed-kid-from-queens is actually a miniature version of himself, and decides to keep him.

All Tony wanted was to find out how the kid designed that stupid webbing.

He had spent five-no-six days holed up in the lab over this, and nothing. Pep was getting concerned, rightfully so, that he hadn’t just asked Peter to show him. But how was he supposed to do that? ‘Oh hey buddy can you teach me how to do the thing i have multiple phds in because you’re smarter than me at 12?’ The whole thing was god awful embarrassing.

Which would be exactly the reason as to why Tony was about to burn the whole tower down if she pulled something like this again. Inviting the kid herself like she owned the place. Well, she did, but that wasn’t the point of it all. He didn’t even know what to do with an annoying little kid!

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t trust Peter in his lab. He had seen the kid’s grades. It was more or less worrying about what he was supposed to do in the highly unlikely event that the kid wasn’t as trustworthy as he seemed. If they got in there and Peter couldn’t hold his own, he would be at a total loss to keep control in the lab. There were so many questions, so many worries in case something went wrong.

Was he even old enough for the energy drinks? What else was in the minifridge up in the lab? Bagels? Did he like bagels? What if Peter got scared up in the workshop? Would he fit into Tony’s spare safety goggles? What if he didn’t like the way the workshop was organized? What if Peter didn’t want to be around Tony after this and got himself hurt?

And this would be why Tony really hadn’t contacted Peter, huh? His own insecurity about how he was supposed to continue on with his relationship with a something-year-old child after no doubt traumatizing the poor thing in a battle and then embarrassing him via benching halfway through.

He’d read the countless articles in old newspapers, seen the police files involving the kid. The Parker boy was a ticking time bomb, no doubt about it. If Tony didn’t keep him in line and make sure not to hurt him any more, those special abilities might turn into weapons of mass destruction. And he really didn’t want to start planning for the kid to go to the dark side.

But, it was time to man up and face the music. Or, rather, the child standing three feet away with the most worn duffle bag to ever grace the eyes of someone with the Stark name. Tony gently smiled, raising his hand for a polite shake that Peter took with innocent eagerness and aptitude. God, this kid is definitely gonna break something up there.

“Peter, nice of you to join me. I’d love to talk a bit about that webbing we discussed before.”

Peter’s smile faltered a little, but returned within the second.

“Yeah, Miss Potts said to bring my stuff. Though, if you wanna do me a favor, let’s not break any of it. Technically, I’m borrowing it from the school labs.”

“You don’t have your own equipment?”

Tony was honestly shocked. Where had Peter been making all of this? He couldn’t have been using public school half-ass production level equipment this whole time, could he?

“No, sir. I just make the web fluid during chemistry when the teacher turns around.”

Well, that answers that question. How smart was this kid? A few years of straight As indicated intelligence but, at this rate, shouldn’t he have skipped a few grades?

“Well then, looks like it’s time to get down to business, isn’t it?”

Peter’s breathing managed to begin to replicate the tune of “I’ll Make a Man Out Of You”. This kid...

“Yessir.”

And as they reached the elevator, Friday automatically carrying the pair of nerds to floor 79, Tony finally said it.

“Stop calling me sir, you make me feel older every time you speak than most people do when they remind me that my father was young and spry in the smack dab middle of World War Two.”

“Only if you start referring to this stuff as “web fluid”, Mr. Stark. It’s very important to repect scientific nomenclature in the form given by the original scientist.” “How much of that was a the answer to a science class pretest?” “The whole thing.”

Fair enough, you little-

The elevator came to a halt (smoothly, of course. It’s stark tech) at the workshop. Luckily for Tony, he had plenty of extra space so Peter would feel comfortable. He pointed to a desk a few feet from his own and briefly stated “Set your gear up over there, tell me what chemicals you need.”

Peter, however, didn’t seem to willing to let his host take the lead.

“Oh no, sir, I brought my own stuff. Midtown is loaded with spare bottles. They won’t notice.”

Two could play at that game, couldn’t they? Well, there was always one way to find out.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna leave them in the bag and put them back tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow’s saturday.”

“Monday, whatever. My cabinet has a billion variations of every science-related doohickey known to man and it could use some more use. No point wasting all the money that school probably spends with the intent of it being used in class, huh? And what did I say about calling me sir?”

“Sorry, sir.”

The kid was smirking. What did Tony do to deserve such cruel treatment from the universe?

Peter tossed his bag onto the desk with enough force to make any non-enhanced teenager look like they were about to throw a tantrum. But, Peter merely glanced at his hands, sighed, and checked that none of the gear had gotten damaged.

Right, super kid. Not a normal intern. Not an intern at all, technically. Unless...

Nope. Later, Tones.

Tony quickly assisted in the set-up, hoping he could rush this and memorize the formula as quickly as inhumanly possible. And that’s when he noticed, Peter’s notes were in the back of his chemistry notebook. How in pointbreak’s name had nobody figured this kid out yet?

Pushing his lack of faith in humanity and all of its company, Tony unlocked the cabinet of infinite chemicals.

“Alright can you grab me some... uhhhhh.... Salicylic Acid, Touline, Methanol, Carbon Tetrachloride, H-Heptane, Potassium Carbonate, Ethyl Acetate, Hexate, BHA, Sodium Tetraborate, and why not just jump the gun and grab the Cactivator Activated Silica Gel now instead of waiting until later?”

Jesus christ this might as well be a liquid bomb with how little he trusts a child with any of these products. Especially silica gel. Don’t kids get high off of that stuff? No, no, Tony, be a good mentor-figure-thing. Now was the time to let the kid have a little room to make mistakes. Let him blow up the lab now instead of later. Sounds responsible.

“Gotcha, Wiz Kid.”

“First off, if I was a sim, my childhood aspiration would be Rambunctious Scamp.”

Tony deadpanned at Peter for another three minutes and twelve seconds before finally responding.

“I literally have no idea what you are talking about, ever.”

Well, ain’t that the truth. However, if Tony was being honest with himself, a little back and forth did wonders to calm his nerves. Maybe the kid wasn’t all too frightening. More like a kitten in the freezing rain.

“What’s next?”

Peter grabbed the worn notebook and examined the page closely.

“Uhhhh, now we add activator degas for 30 minutes, I think. Or is it 45? Wait a sec, I’ll find it somewhere in my notes.”

“You don’t have it memorized?”

“Well, usually I don’t have an audience.”

“Touché.”

Time continued on like that for the next half hour. Back and forth, quip after quip, each remark from the thir-fif-twe-si-fourteen year old “August 10th, 2001, the day the world wishes had never happened. No, it’s a joke Mr. Stark. More of a gen z kind of thing.” reminding Tony of himself. Perhaps, in another world, he could have been as amazing as Peter Parker was proving to be.

He even introduced Peter to the bots, who immediately decided they had a new brother to play with and went hog wild trying to play ball with the kid who was far more interested in marveling at their hotwiring. To Tony, their designs were juvenile and messy. However, to the teenaged dumpster diver next to him, they were beautiful.

And once time slowed, they finally went back to work.

“Now we need to heat it, slowly! Don’t hurt my baby, Mr. Stark!”

“Your baby?”

“You literally just called a little robot your baby but I’m the weird one, ok.”

“Dum-E has artificial feelings, your super glue wouldn’t care if you magically turned to ash.”

Ok, too far. But the kid took it as a joke, no doubt. He snorted the whole way through his laugh. Snorted.

“How slowly is this supposed to be anyway?”

“For the next 24 hours.”

“24 HOURS? What are we supposed to do until then?”

“I dunno. I can swing over tomorrow and we can finish it up then.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”

Tony helped Peter load his equipment back up, hoping the kid wouldn’t get caught stealing school property.

“Heck, maybe make it a tradition. Lab days until one of us explodes from too much science.”

And Tony smiled. The brightest, most genuine smile he had ever given in his lifetime.

“You got it, kiddo.”

Yeah, Lab days.

He could get behind that.

It might just be his new favorite thing.

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sebastianshaw · 4 years

Text

Rando Munday ramblings! For new followers, on Munday sometimes I just post a bunch of personal stuff I normally wouldn’t. Not usually anything intimately personal, more like random thoughts and news that just isn’t relevant to the blog in any way, not related to X-Men or RP or writing in general, etc. ....there’s a lot of Hannibal today, sorry, I’m rewatching it.

- I definitely wanna have a pair of critters named Hannibal and Hasdrubal at some point, maybe if there's a third I'd name him Hamilcar. I know everyone will think I named them after Hannibal Lector but actually these are really common names from Ancient Carthage. Like if you look at Carthagian history and records, everyone is Hannibal, Hasdrubal, or Hamilcar, it's like John, James, and Jim. I'd prefer the pair, though, since Hannibal and Hasdrubal were a pair of brothers and famous historical figures, so it would feel much more like a "set" that way (whereas they did not have a brother called Hamilcar) - Speaking of Hannibal Lector, I knew he was based on a real person, but I did not realize that person was a gay Mexican man. That’s...an interesting example of gay history, for sure. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Thomas Harris (the writer of the books that the films and later the TV series were based on) based Hannibal on a surgeon he met while interviewing an inmate at prison for another novel. This surgeon was so intelligent and charismatic that Harris implicitly assumed that he was a doctor in the employ of the prison. Nope---the doctor was an inmate himself. Harris was so shaken by the encounter that it inspired him to create Hannibal Lector, who, in contrast to the typical media portrayals of serial killers as uncontrolled lunatic slashers like Michael Myers or Leatherface, is a charming, culture, charismatic intellectual. To protect the man’s identity, Harris called him “Dr. Salazar” in interviews, so that was always how I knew him. I just now learned not only was his real name Alfredo Balli Trevino, but his victim was Jesus Castillo Rangel, his male lover. Harris describes him as a small, lithe man with dark red hair and, unsurprisingly, “a certain elegance about him”. Though Trevino was given the death penalty for his crimes, his sentence was commuted to 20 years and he was released in either 1980 or 1981. He died in in 2009 when he was 81 years old. He reportedly spent the last years of his life helping the poor and elderly, and he expressed deep regret for his “dark past”---which I suppose makes sense, since his crime was that he killed a lover in a fit of rage during an argument, whereas Hannibal simply killed people in cold blood whom he had no attachment to because he liked eating them (something Trevino never did) and to punish them for rudeness. - I’ve decided to stop buying silk, unless it's from a thrift store and thus my money won't go to supporting sericulture. Ahimsa silk isn't an option either, the bugs aren't technically killed but they're not treated well either. I know it might seem weird to eat meat and wear leather and yet not want to purchase something that hurt moths and larva, but...I have to eat meat for medical reasons, and my leather purchases is limited to boots that I then keep for YEARS AND YEARS so it's very sparing. There's really no such thing as a cruelty-free diet or lifestyle, whether that cruelty is suffered by animals or by other humans, but I can still make choices that at least lesson some small aspect of harm. I need to eat meat, I don't need real silk. ...Haven only wears bamboo silk for this reason and when this came up with Shaw, he absolutely thought she was fucking with him, like even SHE can’t be THIS insane, NO ONE ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT BUGS WTF - The books nearest to me right now are “Women Who Run With The Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype ” by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Romantic Period, “X-Men: The Legacy Quest Trilogy” by Steve Lyons, two horror anthologies, the script for “M. Butterfly” by David Henry Hwang, “The Spanish Riding School of Vienna: Tour of America 2005″ book I got from when I went to see the Lippizanner horses perform, and a big beautiful leatherbound English translation of “The Flowers of Evil” by Charles Baudelaire. This is...this is a summary of my whole personality, sans rodents. Also god I need to clean my room. - Something I've noticed is that many sci-fi horror films that do the whole "science went too far against nature!!!" thing....don't actually have the problem result from the lack of ethics involved or because the scientists did something "unnatural", it happens because they didn't follow basic safety precautions, lab protocol, common sense, etc. "Splice" for instance, is a really good example---the problem isn't that they made a part-human hybrid, that's not why shit goes wrong, shit goes wrong because the two scientists act like idiots, adopt the creation as a child, hide it in their barn instead of a sterile controlled environment, and then one of them HAS SEX WITH IT. Or in "The Fly" the problem isn't that Brundle invented a teleporter, it's that he tested it ON HIMSELF while he was ALL ALONE. Even in "Jurassic Park" the issue is less that dinosaurs are breeding and more the result of a disgruntled worker who was given way too much power over being able to run things, and thus shut them down when he wants to. So many "science gone wrong!" movies end up not really being condemnations of science itself, so much as depicting scientists as utter dumbasses. Which, on the one hand, I do like, because I dislike the notion of condemning scientific progress just because it seems icky or creepy or "goes against nature" (so do vaccines, I still like those!) But on the other hand, the movies don't FRAME it as "this is the result of failure to practice science safely and sensibly" they frame it as "they should never have attempted such an unnatural thing and this disaster is punishment for a moral sin" even though the issue doesn't happen because what the scientists did was "wrong" it happens because they do something DUMB. - Bringing it back to Hannibal, I reached the episode where Margot Verger first appears, and if I have one big disappointment about the Hannibal series, it's Margot. In the books, she's a huge butch lesbian, literally and figuratively. In the TV series, she's a pretty femme fashionista like all the other women, and she fucks Will in order to get pregnant. At the time this came out in 2013, I tried to be all resigned and fair-minded about this. I was like "ok, well, they didn't want to be offensive with a stereotype, and I guess that's fair, I guess not hurting people matters more to me than getting the horseback-riding bulldyke hearthrob of my high school years on-screen at last" but you know what? No. Firstly, butch lesbians deserve representation too. How many have you ever seen onscreen, let alone in a mainstream media production? Sure, it's a stereotype, but it's not an inherently negative one, they just get treated that way in media because society sees it that way. But the way to handle butch lesbians and femme gay men and so on isn't to erase them from the screen, it's to start writing them as human beings and not caricatures or jokes or monsters. Margot is a fleshed-out human being, she's nuanced and twisted and hurt like everyone else in this series, she would be PERFECT for that. She wouldn't be just a butch lesbian, she'd be a CHARACTER who just also happens to be a butch lesbian. I don't really think she was changed to avoid "hurting" lesbians, I think she was changed because the director, gay man or not, clearly has a way he wants the women in his series to look (they're all fashion plates, all have long hair, all very sophisticated, etc) and book Margot didn't fit his aesthetic, his design if you will. Because god forbid we just make her a DAPPER dyke, right? Back to having sex with Will, which most certainly did NOT happen in the books...that's not bad itself in a VACUUM, fucking men to get a baby is something real-life lesbians do, I had a friend in college who was actually conceived that way, but like...no media exists in a vacuum, and there is very little depiction of lesbians in media that doesn't feature them fucking men for SOME reason or another. They want a baby, or they start the story with a boyfriend, or they're actually bisexual, or they're even raped, but there's always SOME reason we have to watch a guy fucking them and it's frankly distressing. Like, remember Irene Adler in BBC's Sherlock? It's a pattern. And I'm not saying lesbians who have had a sexual past with men, or who were the victims of sexual violence by men, don't deserve representation, I would never say that, those are very common experiences, I'm not saying "gold stars only", I'm saying that there is a strong pattern in media where it seems almost obligatory that a lesbian has to have sex with or be attracted to men at some point, while comparatively the opposite case, where a lesbian is depicted as exclusively and only attracted to and "with" other women, is seldom there. And it's just kind of a kick in the nads for me, as I think it was for a lot of other lesbians, butch or not, that a gay director took an opportunity like Margot Verger and turned her into just another attractive lipstick lesbian that is okay with having sex with the male protagonist as a treat tee hee (Spoiler: She does end up with Alana though, which I appreciate)

#out of shirt #munday #mun monday

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

Note

Any new “Doctor John” type stories, O Great One?

Hi Nonny!

I certainly do! :D Here you are!

DOCTOR / CARETAKER JOHN Pt. 3