#you would be a big boobie power couple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daringyounggrayson · 3 years

Text

whumptober day 5: misunderstanding + broken nose (AO3)

Working as vigilantes, Dick and Bruce have made a lot of enemies. Most people they fight just want to get away, maybe get a few punches in just to be able to say they did, but some have a vendetta against them. For these people, it’s not that they want to carry out their plans without worrying about the Bat intervening, it’s that their plan has become causing him and anyone he works with to suffer.

And tonight, they’re dealing with those people.

They enter a warehouse, and drug-filled darts immediately rain down around them. Dick flings himself into a back handspring to dodge them, then shoots himself into the rafters, trying to get out of sight. Bruce stays on the ground and looks around for their attackers, but the darts are coming from all over—booby traps, possibly operated by remote. Luckily, Bruce’s thick armor means he can afford to be seen, can afford not to dodge every single dart.

Dick drops some smoke bombs to give them cover, then escapes through a window. He does a perimeter check around the budling and spots their attacker. He crouches down and taps through the settings on his mask, using the camera to zoom in. He sees a tiny controller in the man’s hand—Dick was right, then, the darts are being released by remote.

Ensuring that no one else is around, Dick leaps out and takes the man down by surprise. He quickly gags him and ties his hands together before attaching him to a telephone pole. He picks up the remote, looking it over quickly before powering it down and taking it apart.

Bruce still hasn’t met up with him, so Dick radios him. “Batman?” he calls into the comm. “I took down the dart commander. What’s your status?”

No answer.

“Batman, what’s your location?”

No answer.

Dick pulls up Bruce’s location from the tracker in his suit and finds that he’s still in the warehouse. He doubles back and takes a peek through his escape window. Four armed men are circled around Batman, and one of them is poking him with some kind of metal pole. Bruce isn’t reacting at all—some of the darts must have made it through his suit, or maybe he’s hurt. Possibly both.

Either way, this isn’t good.

Dick crouches beneath the window, trying to think of a plan. He’s taken down four men at once before, but not while trying to defend an unconscious Batman. Plus, he doesn’t know what to expect. These guys could be metas, or they could be on some kind of venom. There’s a rumor going around that Bane’s been getting into retail.

Dick takes another peek: still no movement, but he needs to make a plan, and fast.

His priority is getting Bruce out of there. He sends Alfred an update, and Alfred informs him that Bruce’s vitals are fine, as if he were asleep. Once that’s done, Dick slips back in through the window and ducks behind a crate a few yards away from Bruce. He’s restrained now, but his captors are silent, waiting.

Dick freezes when he hears a truck pull up outside. One of the men moves to open the doors, and it slowly but surely makes its way in.

Heart hammering, Dick forces himself to stay still. Running in and trying to take them done now would be stupid. At this range, he’d be shot for sure, and besides, they have access to an easy getaway. He’ll have to let them take Batman.

oOo

After placing one of the darts in an evidence bag and calling the police to pick up the guy Dick tied to the telephone pole, he follows the truck on his bike. The secondary location ends up being an abandoned apartment complex about twenty miles south.

Dick quickly surveys the area and enters through a basement window. He sticks to the shadows as he follows the disembodied voices. So far there are only two men, and he takes them down with a couple of nerve pinches. He restrains them with zip-ties and moves on.

He takes a lucky turn down a hallway and finds the two more men guarding a room—that must be where they’re keeping Bruce.

Dick tosses a few more smoke pellets and charges at them, disarming them and taking them down in a matter of minutes. Once they’re tied up, he kicks the door down and runs to Bruce’s side.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get out of here,” Dick says as he works on freeing Bruce. He doesn’t look too bad; aside from the drugs, they’re probably looking at some minor bruising.

Dick cuts the rope connecting Bruce’s hands, and the second his arm is free, Bruce swings at Dick.

“Aah!” Dick yelps as the fist makes contact with his nose, cracking it instantly. He quickly presses his hand against his nose, and blood runs over his glove.

Bruce moves to take another swing at Dick, but this time Dick is ready, and he dodges it like it’s nothing.

“Batman, stop, it’s me,” he says in a firm, even voice. “It’s me.”

Bruce looks at him, really looks at him, but he doesn’t seem to recognize him. Not entirely. “Robin?” he asks with an unsure voice and a confused expression.

Dick forces a grin. “Who else would it be?”

Bruce doesn’t answer, just slumps over, unconscious.

oOo

It’s a struggle, but Dick manages to get Bruce out of the basement and into the Batmobile Alfred had directed to their location. From there, he puts his bike in the trunk and drives Bruce back to the Cave, where Alfred is waiting for them.

An hour later, they confirm that Bruce will live. The drugs in the darts were fairly harmless and were probably selected for their sedative properties. Bruce will probably feel a little hungover come morning, but it won’t be anything he hasn’t dealt with before.

Alfred sets Dick’s nose and forces an icepack on him, and then the two of them work together to get Bruce up to his bed, where Dick insists on watching him until he wakes up.

Come afternoon, Dick finds himself lounging at the foot of Bruce’s bed, snacking on some grapes and reading a random Hardy Boys book he found on Bruce’s bookshelf. He used to read them to Dick all the time when he was younger, and he still enjoys the series.

Bruce groans, and Dick shoots up, relief flooding him.

“It’s about time,” Dick says, flopping sideways to land by Bruce’s head. “You were asleep forever.” He’d been worried—more worried than he should have been, honestly. But it’s easy to catastrophize when the last time Bruce had been conscious he’d barely recognized Dick. Plus, the man had been asleep for nearly fourteen hours. It was disturbing.

“Dick?” Bruce is frowning at him, eyebrows pinched in confusion and maybe a headache.

Dick grins. “Who else would it be?”

Bruce pushes himself into a sitting position. “You’re hurt.”

Dick raises his hand to cover his nose, then drops it. “I’m okay.” He sits up. “How are you feeling? Should I get Alfred?”

Bruce ignores him, cups Dick’s face. “I hurt you.”

Dick shrugs, pushes Bruce’s hand away. “You probably thought I was one of the kidnappers,” he explains. “And who can blame you? You were drugged. It’s not your fault.”

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut, rubs at his temples. Dick hops off the bed and grabs the Tylenol, passing it to Bruce along with a water bottle. Bruce accepts them with a grunt.

Dick sits down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to get Alfred?” Dick asks again.

Bruce grunts. No.

Dick bites his lip, trying to decide if he should listen to Bruce or not.

“Don’t do that,” Bruce says, tugging on Dick’s sleeve until he complies.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dick asks.

“I’m fine, Dick.”

It’s stupid. Dick knows Bruce is fine; this is probably the best shape either of them have ever been in post-kidnapping. But Bruce had been taken, and it had been Dick’s fault. Dick had left his side, and in those minutes he’d been gone, Bruce could’ve been killed. It would’ve been his fault.

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Dick snaps his head around to look at Bruce.

“Your nose.”

“Oh. Not too bad. Can’t breathe out of it though, so that’s kind of annoying.” Dick doesn’t understand why Bruce feels so guilty. At least he can blame it on the drugs. Dick has nothing—he’d just abandoned his partner and didn’t even try to stop the kidnappers as they loaded him into that truck. “But if you want to be sorry about something, you should apologize for making me lug your heavy ass up a whole flight of stairs. My arms still feel like jelly—I could barely hold up my book.”

Dick grins to show Bruce that he’s joking, merely exaggerating at Bruce’s expense.

“I’m sorry that you’re not stronger. I’ll adjust your training regimen accordingly.”

“Hey!” Dick throws a pillow at him, and Bruce chuckles when it hits him in the face. Dick lies back down with an exaggerated huff. Then, in a quiet voice, Dick says, “Sorry I let them take you.”

“You did everything right, chum. You should be proud of yourself for handling things as well as you did.”

“You don’t know what happened,” Dick says, a touch of anger in his voice. “You weren’t even conscious.”

“No, but you got us home safely. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, well. I guess so.”

He knows Bruce has a point, but he still feels like he could’ve done more. Bruce probably feels the same.

Dick decides to shelve the conversation, for both of their sakes. They can deal with their guilt complexes another day.

He reaches for his book, asks, “Do you remember when you used to read me the Hardy Boys?”

“Of course.”

“Good, because I don’t want to start over.” Dick clears his throat and starts reading.

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #batfamily #elizabeth writes

50 notes · View notes

secretlywritingstories · 2 years

Text

“But did we actually make it? Will we ever?” | Stranger Things one shot

Summary: “I have this terrible gnawing feeling that it might not work out for us this time.” Steve was really worried Robin had been right. Had they won? Had it worked out? It didn't feel like that, not with Max in a coma, Eddie dead and creepy dust falling over Hawkins.

Tags: Post season 4, canon compliant, introspection, grief, coming out, bi!Steve, Steve and Robin’s friendship, scars, found family

Word count: 3.5k

Read on AO3 or below

Steve felt numb to it all. The world around them seemed to be actually disintegrating. Grey dust falling from the air, and a blanket of rot rolling out over Hawkins. It wasn’t fair. They’d defeated Vecna, Henry, One or whatever they’d decided was his name in the end. It hadn’t really mattered. Steve had been standing between Nancy and Robin and seen the damn creature to go up into flames. And yet…

The punches just kept coming. It was like this every time. They thought that they made it. They thought that they finally fixed it. They thought that once more the little town or Hawkins – and the world – would be safe from the terrifying upside-down world.

Some days, Steve still thought that all of this was a big prolonged fever dream and he was still a teenager, the same shitty boyfriend he’d been to Nancy in junior year. He still couldn’t quite believe that he had been dragged into this whole mess.

He knew a kid with powers to create an actual rip in the very fabric of the universe.

He was one of the oldest of their group and he’d taken on the role of damn babysitter but he was still just a big kid himself. He felt like he’d been forced to grow up too quickly. It made him feel like he was too big for his body sometimes, like he couldn’t quite rest within it anymore.

He’d watched the slow raining dust with everyone else in the gym. They’d convened with Dustin and walkie-talked the others staying at the old Byers house and they had seen the same thing. No one knew what it meant or where to start figuring it out, but it was clear that it wasn’t a good thing.

Nothing was good anymore.

It seemed to have vanished.

“Why you hiding out here?” Robin asked, rounding the corner and finding Steve leaning against the back wall of the gym.

“I’m not hiding,” he said, “I’m getting some fresh air.”

“Right,” she said with a deadpan expression. “Fresh air.”

She gestured at the sky above them. The floating dust wasn’t too bad yet. And Steve had survived being in the upside-down. If he was going to get lung damage it would be from that. Time would tell. One thing was for sure. He never wanted to smoke ever again.

“If it’s toxic, we’re all fucked anyway,” Steve said and leaned his head back against the wall. He might have smacked into it a little too hard, just to feel the something. Pain was kind of grounding; he’d found upon the many times over the last couple of years that he’d been beaten to a pulp.

Getting hurt didn’t even feel like a problem anymore. It was the healing that sucked. Hurt came in an instance, a flash and then it was over. Healing was gruellingly long and painful.

“How nice,” Robin said, trying to come off as teasing but there was an edge of worry in her voice that she wasn’t hiding well.

Steve wasn’t sure if he could handle a heart to heart right now. However, if it had to be with anybody, he was glad it was Robin. There wasn’t much good left in the world but he was happy he still had Robin.

“I saw you with Vickie,” he said, changing the topic to delay the inevitable. “Making progress, huh?”

“Yeah,” Robin said and for a moment her concern melted away to show a smile instead. A timid but genuine smile that made Steve feel warm all the way out to his fingertips. He’d tried to advocate for her to shoot her shot for weeks and it seemed that she was finally walking down that path.

Good for her. He really was happy about that.

“I was right then, wasn’t I? She likes boobies,” he said, flashing a smug smile.

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “You might have been,” she admitted reluctantly. “We’ll see how it goes. It’s never… it’s never going to be easy for me, Steve. I’ll always have to walk on eggshells around people that I like.”

She moved to lean against the wall with him, propping herself up with one leg and winding her arms around her torso. Robin was beautiful, funny and kind. She was also weird and unafraid to be herself around people she trusted. Steve was happy to be one of them. He’d been slightly sad when she’d rejected him but now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe, it’ll get easier,” he said, trying to stay optimistic but it was difficult. “Shit, I hope it all gets easier.”

“Me too,” Robin echoed. “We need wins.”

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It seemed like they had won this round. It hadn’t been without terrible loss and consequences but most of them had made it out alright. They had stopped Vecna and Eleven had her powers back. It should count as a win.

Steve thought of Max in her hospital bed, limbs broken and in a coma. That didn’t feel like a win. He wasn’t even sure what had happened while she was in her head but he’d gathered that Eleven had done something to stop her from dying. But had she really? Could you stop death? What if she’d never fully wake up?

Then there was Eddie. Steve hadn’t even liked him that much to begin with. He’d been a weird kid in school and they had moved in different circles. And then he’d taken Steve’s kids under his wing and he might have been a little jealous of that. Eddie spoke those boys’ language in a way that Steve had never been able to do. He felt guilty about that now.

Dustin had come back traumatized and said that Eddie had been lost. He hadn’t been able to talk about it much, but Steve could tell that it had been bloody and that Dustin had seen every bit of it. Now Dustin carried the guilt around like a clutch, as he hobbled on his hurt leg.

Steve had just begun to like Eddie and then he’d died. Eddie had finally stopped running away and then he’d died trying to help and protect them all. It wasn’t fair.

“Robin, do you remember what you told me when we were making molotovs out by the mobile home?”

“I’m sure I said many things,” Robin said with a scoff but fondly. “You know I can talk a mile a minute, even more when I’m nervous. I was nervous, then terrified. I wasn’t sure we were going to make it.”

“That’s what you said,” Steve said. “You said you had a gnawing feeling that we might not make it this time. I asked you if we should be doing this.”

“Right, and I said we were batshit crazy,” Robin said, remembering. “What? Why are you thinking of that now?”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them tight.

“I just wonder. But did we actually make it? Will we ever?"

Robin let out a hollow laugh. Steve opened his eyes and took a look at the contemplative expression he had put on his friend’s face.

“It doesn’t feel like it, does it?” she agreed. “It feels like the end of the world is coming and this is only the beginning.”

This probably wasn’t healthy but maybe, they could go down this spiral just for a bit. It felt safer than doing it on his own.

“It does,” Steve agreed. “And I just… how many are people are we going to lose? Sure, we got Hopper back, and I’m thrilled he’s okay but that’s the exception. Most people stay gone. They leave so much grief and hurt in their wake. Like Eddie.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah. I just… back inside the gym, I saw Eddie’s uncle, going up to change the missing poster of Eddie that had been defaced and drawn all over. Dustin saw too and he wobbled up to him. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but it’s not hard to guess. The old man burst out crying and Dustin looked like he was going to kneel over. That’s all there seem to be right now. Grief. Heck, even I grieve the dude and I knew him for less than a week while he was a fugitive! And he was weird!”

Steve’s voice came out a bit hysterical and he wasn’t sure why he was fixating on Eddie of all people, but he couldn’t help it. It might have something to do with grieving some sort of potential that it felt as if Eddie had unlocked inside of him and then he was gone before they could ever explore it.

“I’m weird. You like weird,” Robin commented, hand gently touching Steve’s arm.

“I know,” Steve said, almost in defeat. “And that’s sick, isn’t it? Having some sort of gay revelation about a guy in the middle of the world ending and for him to die only days later.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. Wider than Steve had ever seen them and he realized what he’d said. He hadn’t even meant to say it, he wasn’t even sure it was true. The words had just slipped out.

It was a dangerous thing to say out loud. It would earn him more beatings. Maybe that was what he craved. Blood spilling and flesh tearing to make him feel alive. It would feel like an easier pain to handle than whatever was going on inside of his chest.

“Steve,” Robin said, voice softer and quieter than ever before. “You liked Eddie?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, digging his hands into his hair. He knew it looked as messed up as he felt. “I wasn’t sure but it felt like maybe I could have, you know?”

It felt like too much, something too big in his chest. He knew he was safe with Robin. She was the best person to spill his guts to about this thing that had weighed heavier on his heart than he realized. Still, he’d never considered how naked and vulnerable saying something like this out loud would make him feel.

He was thrown back into that toilet stall, sitting on the floor with her, when she told him that she liked girls. How terrified she must have been at his reaction since he’d just confessed to liking her. She was much braver than he was.

“You have terrible taste,” she said, shoving his shoulder. “He’d have made you play D&D, which you hate, because you don’t understand it.”

“Hey! I understand it!” Steve protested, a wave of relief flooding through his system. “And I do not have terrible taste. You can hound me for the babes from Family Video sure, but other than that, I have impeccable taste. I loved Nancy, I liked you,” he reminded her. “So, I do have some taste in women! And… Eddie was something. Bright. Unexpected.”

Robin was smiling, kind of crooked and excited. She was looking like she was happy for him, even as he was confessing maybe liking a guy who’d died. “And here I thought you were pining for your ex this whole time.”

“I mean, I was… I am? I still feel something for her, but I don’t know. Eddie caught me off guard,” Steve said, unsure how to even explain it.

It didn’t seem like he needed to. Robin gave him a look, one that was stripped away of their usual teasing and just pure sincerity. Steve was already opening his arms before Robin burrowed into his chest, holding him tight and squeezing him until it hurt. The wounds on his side burned at the touch. Even though the pain, he let out a relieved breath and hugged her back.

“I’m not like fully gay or whatever, I just… I don’t know,” Steve felt compelled to say.

“You can like both,” Robin told him, voice gentle as she gave him another squeeze and this time, he couldn’t hold back a hiss as she got her elbow almost digging directly into one of the cuts under his shirt.

She instantly jumped back, releasing him and watching him with cautious eyes. She was going to figure it out and Steve knew he couldn’t stop her but he still had to try.

“Robin, it’s nothing, I-”

“Shit! Your wounds,” she said and then she didn’t even wait before she was trying to lift up his shirt to see.

Steve tried to dodge and move away. “Hey, hey, you should not be undressing men in public, think of your reputation!”

“Everyone already thinks that we’re dating. You’re practically my beard,” Robin said and then stopped just when she’d gotten her hands around the bottom of Steve’s shirt. “Or I guess not now. We can be each other’s beards.”

“I don’t even know that that means. Robin, stop,” Steve tried to protest but she was slippery and not afraid of using dirty tricks and Steve found himself with his shirt pulled up to his armpits.

He stopped trying to get away, letting out a sigh and letting himself lean back against the wall she’d corned him against. She’d seen the wounds be made after all. Her, Nancy and Eddie had all been there. He thought he was going to die. Not the first time, and probably not the last, but he felt like that the demon bats had been a particularly close call.

He shivered, remembering the horrifying sensation of them biting into his flesh and the terror in thinking they’d rip open his stomach and devour his intestine, while he was still breathing and alive to feel the whole thing.

“Do you think you have rabies?” Robin asked, eyes not leaving the wounds.

Steve had looked at them just this morning when he’d removed the bandages to give them a chance to breathe. They were healing, closing up and turning pink. It was uncomfortable and they were itchy but the skin was dutifully knitting itself back together. In time it would harden and scab over.

But the wounds had been deep. He would have indents where they had taken chunks out of him, even if the skin over it healed. If he ever managed to get anyone into his bed again, they’d be horrified to see these.

“I won’t get rabies,” Steve said. “I don’t think the upside-down works like up here. Might catch something else, but not rabies. And it’s healing fine, see?”

He had meant to reassure Robin but she did not look reassured in the least.

“I can’t believe I forgot you got hurt. Just so much happened,” she said, guilt in her voice.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Steve said, reaching out to grab Robin’s wrist. Her hands were shaking. Steve’s shirt mostly fell back down and covered his scarred abdomen.

He didn’t want to tell her that he preferred if everyone forgot about these wounds. He was certainly trying not to think about it. Even more so, because he imagined that Eddie had going through the nightmare of being eaten alive instead.

Steve had been saved while Max had been scarified and Eddie had been killed.

“Scars are cool,” Robin said, determination in her voice like she was trying to convince herself rather than Steve. “Makes you look rugged handsome.”

She was clearly grasping at straws and trying to make him feel better and surprisingly it was working.

“Yeah?” he asked, touched at her effort.

“Totally,” she nodded, doubling down, sniffling but not acknowledging it. “You’re going to be beating girls and guys away with a stick.”

Steve released Robin’s wrists and shook his head fondly while chuckling.

“If you say so.”

They lapsed into silence again, leaning back against the wall of the gym. They should go meet up with the rest of the crew. There must be a game plan underway for this dust and the rotting. It was Steve’s responsibility to look after those kids, even if they weren’t quite children anymore.

He thought about what he’d told Nancy when they were driving the mobile home. Of his dream of a big happy family. He had meant it. It had been his dream since he was a little kid to be able to raise a big family and to be the good father that he’d never had himself. He had been caught in the perception that was the one way to have a family.

A wife and half a dozen kids.

He looked at Robin now. The best friend he could never have imagined having. He had never quite had a friendship like this before. It had always been a group of people loosely connected and back in high school with his King Steve bullshit, it had been more like having followers than friends. The kids had helped. His friendship with Dustin had helped immensely, even though he’d never admit it to his face. He liked that he was back on good terms with Nancy again too, and he was trying to figure out why he still felt a pull towards her.

In the wake of all that happened, it felt more like it was because he didn’t know where else to put his romantic interest. His attempts at dating random babes had spectacularly failed. Crashed and burned while Robin had laughed on the sidelines.

That had been the most fun part. To come back to Family Video and talk to Robin about the failed dates, so they could laugh together.

He cared about the other kids too. Lucas. Mike. Will. Eleven. Max. He might have resented Jonathan a bit for stealing his girl but he was also long past that now. He was a good guy, and an even better brother to Will.

Steve had never had siblings. He’d never had a family that cared for him like that. But he realized that he kind of had that now. He had friends that were like family, not bound to him by blood but bound to him by choice.

Maybe that mattered much more. Who cared about who he might date as long as he had people who cared about him? He’d been told to want the big family and he’d grown up thinking that it was the only way he could get the big family he wanted. He’d been wrong. He already had a big family. It just didn’t look like young Steve thought it would.

“Can you imagine going into Family Video on Monday?” Robin asked, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “It just… working our minimum wage jobs, while the world is ending. Are we supposed to just continue like nothing happened?”

“We did before. After Scoops Ahoy,” Steve reminded her. “And even with the world ending, we need money.”

“A cruel, cruel world,” Robin said.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, but then he thought about all the people around him that he considered family now. Maybe, it was just all the trauma binding them together but you couldn’t change what happened. Unless Eleven had somehow managed to figure out time travel during her mysterious training.

He wanted to spare everyone all the hurt but he also didn’t want to go back to being the person he was before it all happened. He’d been a douchebag. It was so easy to see now looking back at his past but he hadn’t thought so at the time. He’d thought he was on top of the world. He’d felt charming and wanted. It had been addicting and he wasn’t sure he would have snapped out of it as quickly if it hadn’t been for the wake-up call from Nancy, Dustin and the rest of the kids.

“But it’s also… not,” Steve found himself saying.

“Huh?”

“The world is cruel,” he repeated her words, “but there’s also love. And hope. A will to fight. Not once during the last week did any of us hesitate to step up and help. No one ran away in the end. It cost us dearly but it is still a confirmation the world can’t be all bad. We’re proof of it.”

“That was almost wise, Steve,” Robin said, tone joking but her eyes looked touched.

“What can I say? I have my moments,” he said, matching her joking tone.

“Yeah, you do,” Robin said, joking tone falling away and affection seeping into it instead.

She looked at him like he was a dumbass and he knew that she loved him anyway. It made his chest feel warm and he thought that maybe he’d be okay. If he had his friends, then maybe he might just make it. A hope in a cruel world.

The fight was far from over. They could all feel it. More was coming. It was going to be horrible once more but maybe this fight could be the last. Maybe, there would be an end at last.

“We should go find the group. See what the plan is,” Steve said, pushing himself off the wall. Robin nodded in agreement and followed.

Steve didn’t know much but he knew he would fight tooth and nail to protect his friends. His family. He’d found them and now he was going to protect them. Whatever the cost.

#stranger things fic #steve harrington #robin buckley #my stories

3 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyluckyperson · 3 years

Text

I’m gonna be that person but whole “Light had hot goth gf with big boobies and lingerie and was indifferent to her therefore he must be gay” theme is starting to irk me. Especially in context of said hot goth gf being also an obsessive stalker who basically blackmailed him into relationship with her, threatened to kill his other potential love interests out of jealousy and almost got him caught and executed a few times. Oh, and she brought with her a shinigami who threatened to kill him if he’s not enthusiastic enough in playing her boyfriend. What’s not to love, indeed. I would run away screaming as soon as I could, lingerie or no lingerie.

That’s not to add that 1) Light is a prideful control freak who 100% felt furious and humiliated being cornered like this (and Misa didn’t outwit him on her own like L whom he could grudgingly respect even when angry, no, she just got power over him by sheer dumb luck), and he is so not a type to forgive and forget, 2) she’s his polar opposite personality-wise and he dislikes her airheadness and loudness and lack of seriousness even when he’s amnesiac, she wouldn’t have had a chance even if they met normally. They’re just exceptionally unsuitable as a couple and that’s kinda the whole point, one more shounen trope deconstructed.

And were the situation to gender-switch to girl!Light and guy!Misa with everything else staying the same, I’m kinda sure everyone would talk about what a cool trope subversion it is and be like “for once the girl does the sane thing and despises and uses her stalker instead of falling for him, you go queen!”. But when a guy does this, he’s either misogynist or gay, no other versions (like, that he’s a victim here and actually has common sense). Double standards stronk. Whatever she did to him, he is still supposed to madly desire her if she’s conventionally attractive. Because men are animals, everyone knows, they see boobs - they don’t see anything else. They’re not people who can have types, can be picky or be, y’know, turned off by a clingy annoying behavior or even stalking and threats. Self-control doesn’t exist too, apparently. Or is it a “if he uses her as the eyes, should as well use her sexually, what a waste” logic?

(Tbh, I was more surprised that he didn’t kill her in the second arc when she became useless and there was no Rem to threaten him. He was well on his way to insanity already and could enjoy his belated vengeance. When I watched the show first time I was almost sure that after Rem’s death Misa’s done for. But she wasn’t dangerous to him and he still had some boundaries left, I guess. Takada was probably added to illustrate that, he clearly liked her better out of two of them on personal level. Yet he dropped Takada off a cliff as soon as she became a potential danger but spared Misa who he had personal grudge against but who was currently harmless).

#Death Note #Light Yagami #Misa Amane #I mean he's not an angel obviously #but you can't even say that he seduced her to use her or something #he could be more clear about his feelings towards her only if he wrote 'I can't stand you just leave me alone' on his forehead or something #he stopped just short of doing it #she could've walked away anytime while he couldn't #ofc he didn't like it at all #also untapped in the canon theme but Misa would be an exact type of person to lie about birth control and poke holes in condoms probably #especially after Takada entered the scene #(there should be some crack chapter about how Light hides his condoms from Misa with more zeal than he hides the death note lmao)#what a cursed thought tho #a child of Light and Misa would be an ultimate Omen child of doom lol #insanely beautiful and charming and completely bonkers #the world never knew what danger it escaped

29 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 4 years

Photo

I couldn’t believe my life had come to this, waiting in my car as evening began to settle over Far Horizons Medical Associates, watching for Melissa to pull out of the parking lot. We had just walked out together, after what turned out to be a long day of patients for me and...whatever it is she does...for her. A catch-up day, for sure, after a week away from work. Our chat, as we had locked up the office and both headed out to our cars, was idle and friendly. She was headed to the gym, and asked what I’d be doing tonight. I lied, of course, telling her my wife, Sheryl, had a nice dinner planned. Maybe we’d catch up on the series we’d been watching.

But here I was, watching Melissa finally pull out of the lot and disappear into traffic in her white beemer. Only then did I think it safe to turn off my car, grab my bag, surreptitiously hurry back to the building, and sneak back inside. I felt so foolish...

My practice, I guess I should explain, occupied the biggest of three decent-sized office suites on the ground floor of our building. Well, I say “our”, but it was really Sheryl’s. She had bought it as an investment property, years ago, and rented the space back to the practice. One of the other two suites had been a physical therapy office, but was now recently vacant. Sheryl hadn’t, as far as I knew, been looking actively for new tenants. The third set of offices was currently a financial advisory group; they’d been there a while.

Above the first floor, there were some smaller spaces Sheryl also rented out for little private offices. There was a patent attorney, a coin trader and a couple CPA’s, but most of them had recently been vacant, too. There was also one space that she’d converted to a basic little studio apartment that was, as of just last night, no longer vacant. It was now, in fact, where I was heading.

Furtively, I entered the main foyer space of the building through the glass doors from outside, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t been seen. While the now-locked entrance to FHMA was directly on my right, those to the other two suites on the opposite wall, I headed to an unmarked door in the far corner, which led to a stark, cement stairway, which went up to the second floor hallway, a utilitarian passage which itself led me to…

...home.

I struggled a bit with the key but finally got the door opened, switched on the fluorescent overhead light, and sighed. I was greeted with several small stacks of boxes, an old couch, and the silence of bare white walls. At least it smelled okay.

The fight, last night, was a bad one. I’d known, driving home from the airport, that Sheryl would be waiting for me at home. I realized, of course, even when I was down south at the conference with Melissa, that a full week away was too much. The extra few days at the end to relax was irresponsible, escapist, just a chance to avoid the problems I had up here in my real life - the tensions at home, in my marriage. The loss of respect I’d been feeling at work. I knew in the end it was just going to make them all worse, exacerbating the already festering issues. Now it was coming to a head…

...and the photos didn’t help.

Sheryl had, I immediately saw as I had stepped in the front door, a manilla folder full of them. Possibly two, in fact.

“Hi honey,” she said plainly, as I struggled my bag into the living room, dropping it in the arched doorway, “welcome back.”

Full-page photographs, mostly of Melissa posed in various bikinis, lay strewn across our coffee table, spilled from the folder labeled “phone”, in black sharpie. I recognized them all: the white bikini, the burgundy, the rainbow. There were also a few more photos, Melissa in a beach dress, Melissa laughing, a selfie of the two of us together. I recognized those too. I recognized all these pictures, of course, because I had taken them.

“Hey uh...what’s all this..?” I asked, dumbly, as my heart began to race. Oh my god, what had she done?? I knew - now, at least - that whatever pictures I took with my phone automatically got shared with Sheryl, that she could see them. I’d kicked myself for my naivete multiple times upside-down and sideways since she’d explained that to me, having seen all the damning modeling pics I’d taken for Melissa at the beach last Wednesday. This was obviously a folder full of them. What was in the other?

“I don’t know, honey. Why don’t you tell me..?” Sheryl answered.

I, of course, was totally awkward, inept and hapless in my defense. How does one explain hundreds of bikini shots of one’s Uber-buxom Office Manager on one’s phone to one’s wife? Or the photo Melissa took of me, with lipstick on my forehead? How does one argue one’s point when one’s opponent is a high-powered corporate attorney who has prepared her case and stacked her deck against one? One does it...poorly.

I tried, I really did, to assuage Sheryl, to convince her that nothing happened during our trip, between me and Melissa. Nothing did!! Really!! But I knew my heart was not in it, and - if I was being honest - throughout the last two months since I’d hired Melissa I’d been effectively unfaithful to Sheryl, at least in spirit. I did my best, though, to plead my case and she watched me do it, sitting there on the couch in what she’d call her “warrior princess” look. Hair, clothes and makeup she’d use when she knew her adversary was a male easily swayed by such an appearance...one such as myself. Sheryl was a beautiful woman, and she knew it. She knew the warpaint, the big fluffy blond hair and the tight dress showing off her healthy implants would give her power in this exchange, tip the scales even further in her favor.

But her coup-de-grace was the pictures. She had printed them, of course, to humiliate me. Nice and big, glossy, they were certainly all that, for sure. But, of course, they’d also be pretty useful to her in court, since she’d have to expect I’d delete them from my phone...which I’d done (after saving them al elsewherel…) Nonetheless, here was her proof.

She had let me talk, and then she went on her tirade. It actually started calmly enough.

“Do you realize how weak you look, how pathetic,” she began, coolly, “spending your time with her? This...girl?”

“M-Melissa’s n-not just a ‘girl’...” I retorted, beginning to defend myself, trying to match Sheryl’s composure, but feeling the heat in my face already and hearing the stumble in my speech, “this was for work, she’s an employee, our office manager, a...a…”

“A what? A G-cup?” she snapped

she’s actually an H-cup…I thought to myself, in a silent flush of shame.

Sheryl knew, of course, my history, my weakness for the young and buxom. It had nearly ended our marriage in the past, several times. “At first, when you first hired her, I was more disappointed in you than angry,” she continued, regaining her poise, “knowing why you’d done it, that you were basically helpless. I was disappointed that you, after all these years, were still so weak-willed and stupid. I do suppose it's no picnic having that huge penis of yours. It’s honestly the only outstanding thing about you, but it must be a burden. It sort of overwhelms your brain, doesn’t it? Make you make these stupid decisions?”

This was so humiliating. “Sheryl, c’mon..”

“No, really,” she said, calmly, “Sometimes I think I shouldn't blame you for being a slave to that...thing. You’re just a man, and your erection is the biggest part about you. But you’re also my husband. You made a commitment, and I’ve worked so hard on this marriage. So, yes, back then, when you hired her, I was disappointed...but I wasn’t angry.”

Oh my god I felt like a child being scolded, but in my disgrace I held my tongue.

“But now,” she continued, the heat beginning to build in her voice, “seeing all those pictures, seeing her tits all over you phone, seeing the two of you together, now I’m angry…”

“Sh-Sheryl, listen, I-“ I tried, stepping towards where she sat.

“Is that really what you want?” she asked, voice breaking for the first time, “To be with someone like her? Someone young and dumb? It is, isn’t it? You like that she’s big and young and dumb, that she’s soft and pretty and that she adores you...”

I stepped in again. “n-no, honey, wait…”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me…” she bit, “not after you hired not just her, but a whole harem of them. Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Building yourself a harem of young, dumb, soft pretty things?”

“Sheryl, pleas-“

“Be quiet,” she commanded, suddenly standing up from the couch.

I gasped, and visibly took a step back. She was surprisingly, impressively tall in her office stilettos, and I couldn't hide my shock. If she noticed, she said nothing, just narrowed her eyes for a moment and pressed on. “You should just go be with your big-boobie office manager, your new little bunnies, if that’s what you want. Let them take you and coddle you, tell you it's all okay. Let them kiss away all the boo-boos you got from your big, mean wife.”

She took a step towards me; I took a step back. A smile curled on her face as she watched my reaction.

“Oh, yes. Don't think I don't know,” she continued, her voice chilling again, “don't think that I don't know what you did with Rina, your secret little fantasies. I know what you like, they all know what you like. Rina told them at the office four years ago and it’s going to follow you for the rest of your life.”

Sheryl stepped right up to me; we were eye-to-eye. wh-what the…?? She watched the shivers run through me as I realized I was not just dealing with someone who could intellectually and emotionally dwarf me, but someone who could also possibly physically harm me as well.

“Sheryl, h-hold on…wh-what Rina and I did, it-“

Her smile frightened me, and her voice changed. “Awwwww,” she cooed, in baby-talk, her eyes flashing as she took to releasing the years of pent-up resentment, “All that baby-play, what you did with Rina, is that what you want, sweetie-pie?”

Suddenly unable to face her, I turned away, stepped away. I felt her following behind.

“You miss it, hmm? You want it again, right, baby?” she persisted, hammering away at me from behind in that babydoll voice, “But now you want ‘Melissssy’ to be your mommy now, don’t you?? Yes...yes you do!”

“Sheryl, s-stop..!”

“Oh, I'm sorry..! Is that emasculating??” she chided, “Am I emasculating you? Telling you that I know, that everybody knows, that what you really want is to be an infant?? That you may look like a big strong man - or, whatever you are, these days - but inside you’re nothing but a child. A toddler. A little needy baby that just wants its mommy.”

“Oh my god Sheryl, n-no, please…”

From behind she took my shoulder and, forcefully, spun me around to face her. “You look at me,” she ordered, “Look at me when I’m talking to you, you understand?”

Meekly, I nodded. “y-y-yes…” I answered. .

She sneered at me. “Jesus. Face it, honey, you’re an infant already,” she told me, her eyes boring into mine as my gaze dropped; she allowed it, as I was looking at her chest. “Think about it: women own your business, women own your house, women organize and keep your little practice running,” she said, laying bare all my deepest truths, opening the wound that has festered for years. All I could do was stand there and take it, eyes cast downward. “Women figure out what you’re going to eat, what you’re going to wear. And you love it, how we infantilize you, you don’t fight it at all,” she continued, “You all do, you men, these days. You love it. It’s everywhere. Men are becoming like little babies, more helpless every day, while women are working harder, becoming their big, competent mommies, taking care of everything, letting you cling to us just to make it through life. It’s happening, you’ve seen it...”

She looked at me, pausing in her diatribe, and considered. She had me sufficiently cowed, obsequiously speechless; her voice dropped.

“But you...you...you’ve been this way all along. That’s what makes you different,” she said, half-cryptic, “That’s why they want you.”

“wh-what do you m-mean?“ I asked, a strange fear gripping me, a primal instinct, making me find my tongue and raise my eyes to her.

She pressed on like she didn’t hear me.

“In some ways I guess I can't blame you,” she continued, “You're a beta male, surrounded by alpha females...”

Oh my god, this? Sheryl, too??

“...Me, Melissa, all the rest, all of us alphas,” she stated, as if it was plain as day, “It’s the hierarchy of mankind...or in your case womankind. There's no way you can avoid it.”

“wh-where is this coming from??” I suddenly blurted, the fear and confusion in me bubbling up finally in a defensive yawp, “Is this from those meetings you’ve been going to? I don’t know if I want you going to them any more..!”

holy shit what did I just say..???

“WHAT?!?” she screamed, her hands suddenly on my chest, pushing me with surprising force backwards. I stumbled, my knees catching the overstuffed chair behind me. I fell backwards into it, and sat frozen, stunned, gaping up at her in shock and fright. My heart raced.

She looked down at me, eyes wide. She seemed, for the moment, surprised herself, that she was capable of what she just did...and at how easy it was.

She took a step towards me; I recoiled below as she seethed.

“Y’know what I wish? Hm?!?” she glared down at me, imperiously, over her nose and full chest as her anger flashed again, “I hope that someday, someday soon...I hope you get exactly what you want. I hope you get a woman that really emasculates you. That just dwarfs you, with all that she is. A woman that makes you feel tiny, like the weak little man you really are.”

I watched as the anger of the last seven years all came to bear above me, in her, as she began to rage.

“Oh god!” she cried, “I hope someday you get what you really want! I hope you get crushed between the tits of a huge, strong woman!! I hope you get shrunk to the size of a tiny little bug by her, I do, and I hope I get to watch!”

Jesus christ what is she saying?!? Where did she get this?!? And why - oh god no - am I getting..? I can’t let her see...

In her fury, she continued, her fists balled. “Oh god I’d like to see that, I'd like to see you squashed,” she spit, “I'd crush you myself, if I could. I'd crush you under my big, high heel.”

I moaned, a pitiful wail. She looked at me, aghast.

“Oh god this is turning you on right now, isn’t it?!?” she fumed, suddenly incredulous, “Me yelling at you? Me humiliating you??” She leaned over, brought her face so close to mine. I backed away, retreating the inches I could. Her fists still balled, she all but snarled: “Do you get aroused when a strong woman gets angry at you?” She watched me trembling, and dropped her voice as she began to speak more slowly. “Oh my god you do. You get off on being...belittled,” she said, “Being made to feel small by the anger of a woman. And you love that, you love feeling small, don’t you..?”

She considered me, thought for a moment, ignoring the near-wordless denials I was trying to form. “Well, then, let me help you out, if you want to feel small,” she said and then, without another word, she grabbed me through my pants,

“Sh-Sheryl, no..!” I sobbed, weakly moving to grab her wrist. She slapped me away, her hand now forcefully half-encircling my turgid girth through my khakis.

She squeezed, then she unleashed.

“Would it make you feel small if I told you I have more than fifty times the money that you do?? Hm?” she sneered, inches from my face, pressing my outsized cock down into my thigh, feeling it harden with her anger, under her abuse, “That with my new jobs I made more last week than you made in a year. You didn’t know that, did you?? No - I do all our banking, I do all our finances. You wouldn’t know. You let me take care of everything. I own this house, I own the practice.” She squeezed my shaft, roughly, making me spasm, my whole body tense towards her. “You’ve been basically nothing but an employee of mine these past thirteen years. An employee that I let live under my roof, eat my food…”

Insistently, she began to stroke my cock through my pants, slowly, with a strong grip and commanding authority. “How does it feel to be a kept man, hm?” she asked, watching my eyes flutter helplessly in the newly lit blaze of arousal to which she had me held, mercilessly working me now, “I know you. You like people to think that I stay with you because you’re a rich doctor, that you’re a successful man. But it’s really quite the opposite, isn’t it? You stay with me because you’d be nothing without me. I own your house, I own your car. I’m your fucking boss. You have barely anything in savings and what you do have I would totally consume with our pre-nup”

My voice began to bubble up, to tremble. “w-w-why…?” was all I could manage, not even knowing what I was asking.

”Why? Why do I stay with you?!? Oh my god I ask myself that all the time, all these years, through all the affairs and the mistakes and the absolute pitiful way you run your life.” My question, my audacity to speak, had only caused her to redouble her efforts; she squeezed me again, pumped me harder. “Why do I stay with you?? I don’t know- maybe because I loved you, once? Maybe because I felt, somehow, that someday you’d change? Or maybe because...maybe because I started to like it. Maybe I started to like the feeling of making more than my husband, of watching him get smaller and smaller to me, inside our home, as I grew bigger and bigger outside it, wealthier and wealthier, more and more successful as he slowly turned into this...this...this little worm, writhing under me, clinging to me. God!!!” she exclaimed, suddenly rising up a bit, putting her free hand on my shoulder, “Do you see what you’ve done to me?!? What you’ve made me become?!?”

Whether on purpose or not, she’d positioned her upper body right in front of my face, forcing me to stare at her chest as she worked my cock. I can see her bra, she’s swelling out of it, modest implants under taut flesh. Implants she got for me, years ago. So she could...do this, more easily. And it worked, it fucking worked…

I groaned again. I was already so close...so close to...to coming...oh god no, not in…not in my pants...p-please Sheryl...

“But, yes. Part of me liked the idea of owning you,” she mused, allowing me to just gape at her cleavage, knowing I was close, “Of having you as a kept man. But now...now...it’s done. I’ve decided - I don’t want to keep you any more. They can have you...”

She reached behind herself, grabbed something off the coffee table, her left hand never leaving my lap.

She held it right in front of me, right before my eyes, a picture...

“They can have you…”

With a grunt, a lurch that buckled me forward in my seat, I came under her hand, I came in my pants, I came in the most shameful way I could imagine. I came in my pants under my wife’s strong hand as she kicked me out of the house and gave me to Melissa’s tits

“Unh, unh, unh…” I whined, allowing myself only the briefest of moments to ogle the photo, and then casting my eyes down, clamping them shut in my vileness. My cock, so huge, bucked and jerked in the hips of my khakis, soaking them - I felt that already, its hot brine, gooping onto my thigh, making a mess.

“There you go,” Sheryl said, her hand still squeezing my firm spongy shaft, “get it all out…”

I groaned, I groaned as I felt Sheryl move, putting down the photo so she could support me with her right hand to my shoulder. Otherwise, I would have folded forward, right into her

She squeezed me, she milked me, she urged and pulled everything she could from my cock, into my pants, and as my eyes began to open I saw the spectacle, the shameful stain darkening my pant-leg, nearly the entire thing from mid-thigh down to my knee.

”a-are you divorcing me?” I peeped, finally, the first words I could manage as my climax faded, my cock pulsing weakly now. My meekly resigned question sounded fully like a demission, obsequious surrender to whatever she wanted.

“No, I’m not divorcing you,” she replied, with austere plainness, “The world would eat you alive, and I’m not ready for that yet.” She watched the monstrosity of my erection fading, under her hand. “But I am kicking you out of my house.”

Where will I go??? I thought, with passive acceptance, even as the last pulses of climax had yet to fade. Images of sleeping in my car, soaked in my own filth, crept through my skull.

As if reading my mind (omigod can they all do that??) Sheryl spoke up. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to be homeless,” she said, still tenderly massaging the now softening mush of my spent manhood, squishing it wetly into my leg, “But...you do need to be put in your place. So, I have a place for you. It’s perfect. Nice and small.”

The apartment, at the office, hers, she explained, as I watched her left hand tend to my afterspasms. I’d live there, I’d live in the little apartment she kept as a side thought, a pittance of her charity. I knew I really had no other option, and hung my head. It proved how dependent I was on her; I’d have a place to live only on account of her good graces. It was just something else she could lord over me, show me how small I was.

“Now, get up. Get up,” she instructed, finally peeling her hand off me, leaving me sticky and foul as she sat back, “Get up and leave. I’ve packed your bags, your things. They're all there already.” She stood, over me, seeing me still trembling from my trauma. “Just go, here’s a key-“ she said, fishing into her top and pulling a key from her bra.

“Sh-Sheryl…?”

Dismissively, she tossed it at me. “Go lose yourself in her tits for all I care.” It bounced off my chest, slid down onto the chair.

Clumsily, I floundered at finding the key in the cushion, as all the while Sheryl straightened her skirt, smoothed her hair. “n-no, I’m going to show you,” I began, finally gathering the key, finally starting to stand, rising wobbly to my feet, “I’m n-not that weak. I’m going to prove myself to you...”

”Sure you will,” she said, not even looking at me at this point, “now get out.”

“Sheryl, c’mon…”

“Get. Out.” Her eyes were on me again, cold and hard. She pointed at the door.

At the end, the end of my time in my home of seven years, I was walking towards the front door when my wife said one last thing to me. “Wait…” she said, causing me to pause, look back.

“Turn around…” she said, regarding me with new, discriminating eyes, “...are you shorter?”

==============

Thanks to TopographicSociety and tumblr reader nycslave for inspirations

#Growing Into the Job

57 notes · View notes

cynthiaandsamus · 3 years

Text

Custom Toonami Block Week 73 Rundown

Code Geass: Lelouch and co. are still stuck in China and Xingke’s flipping out because the Chinese assholes are gonna kill the Empress and go with someone less problematic for their political marriage to Britannia’s creepily overaged prince. However Lelouch pulls out a Knightmare that’s basically the Twink version of the Gawain and busts everyone up as well as pulling a Father Cornello on them and letting the people know they’re all elitst 1% assholes that don’t care about them, which I suspect all countries probably know about their leaders but it sucks to hear it in a recording so riots show up all over China and CC Geass Flashes Anya to take her out so Britannia has to back out because the Chinese Hierarchy are now the least popular people in the world. So Xingke gets to be with his Empress and joins the Black Knights but Dietard wants the Empress to marry someone on their side so they can basically do the asshole move Britannia just tried to do but for them. All the girls are like ‘hey no’ and Lelouch is like “Oh hey Tamaki buddy, let’s go talk and get me the fuck out of here” so before Lelouch actually has to give Tamaki more lines and elevate him beyond the Black Knight’s Yamacha Shirley calls and Lelouch just straight up asks Shirley about love in a weirdly forced series of circumstance. But Shirley’s like “Yeah don’t fuck with love, don’t you love anyone?” and Lelouch is like “Yeah I do, Nunally!” and I don’t think that’s at all what Shirley meant but it does mean Lelouch sees that fighting for something beyond politics is powerful and agrees to not marry off the twelve year old girl, so that’s good. Lelouch decides to return home while they hunt down the Geass cult which is in China for some reason despite that being one of the like two places on earth Britannia doesn’t control and the Geass Cult largely being a Britannian affair. Meanwhile Sayoko is basically a Lelouch Vtuber at this point with her insanely accurate Lupin III mask of Lelouch and kisses Shirley so Shirley’s a little bit more gay than she was before and is not sure how to feel about that. When she’s about to tell the real Lelouch he kisses like a girl, Anya and Gino show up because we’re retreading the whole ‘sleeping with the enemy at school’ thing from the first season except with way less interesting enemies. Also the preview for the next episode is Lelouch dramatically talking about enemies finding out he’s Zero overtop footage of Shirley and Milly absolutely naked in a batthouse scene so I think we know what kind of episode that’ll be.

Inuyasha: The Panther Demon filler concludes with everyone meeting at the site where the Panther Master is being revived behind a strong barrier, if only someone just got a barrier upgrade to their sword, oh wait. But yeah everyone manages to free the hostages so even though Kagome’s jewel shards revives the Panther Master he’s still a zombie without a sacrifice which is weird since Naraku managed to completely revive the Band of Seven with one jewel shard each from skeletons and the Panther Lord has three shards so idk the rules here but yeah he steals the souls of his own men to revive and is Wind Scar Proof because he just is. It’s pretty cool to see him shooting his claws and lightning and shit but he’s too big and slow for it to be much of an interesting fight. Sesshomaru’s about to go full demon which would be interesting since we haven’t seen his full demon form since he lost his arm but in a neat bit of character development, Tenseiga calms his rage and tells him to use it instead. You get the feeling Sesshomaru only goes full demon when he flies off the handle and forgets about speed and strategy so him opting to not repeat the mistake he made against Inuyasha is pretty cool. Anyway Tenseiga heals the souls of the Panther Demons and drains their energy from the lord so he’s back to Zombie Cat Man which Inuyasha can Wind Scar because that’s what happens to villains on this show, all Wind Scars all the time. The Panthers don’t wanna fight anymore since their boss just killed them and tell Inuyasha to tell Sesshomaru the feud is over and they’re going back to the West. Honestly this is basically the same backstory they gave Kirinmaru in Yashahime so it’s funny for them to say they’re going back to the same place Kirinmaru is from, wonder if it’ll ever come up in Yashahime since most filler seems canon there.

Yu Yu Hakusho: Yusuke and Kuwabara continue the assault on Tarukane’s compound and basically plow through the lower demons easy since they’ve been fighting minor deities up to this point. It’s always pretty cool in Shonen to just have a few rounds to show how much power creep the heroes have had where certain things just don’t bother them anymore. Toguro murders a Chimera which has an oddly similar backstory to Nina from FMA and he seems really bummed about it but he’s like “Hey we’re both monsters made by humans telling us to do shit, so sorry for killing you bro”. And Tarukane basically sees Toguro is the next boss and is like “Yup time to scam some people off of this” and he sets up a betting ring for how far Yusuke and Co will get into his compound. This is kinda neat because it puts Tarukane in the weird position of betting against his own guards and hoping Yusuke will make it all the way to Toguro and then lose after everyone else has seen how awesome Yusuke is and bets on him. And funnily enough Sakyo’s in on the betting and he’s watched anime before so he knows to bet on the plucky teenagers with weird powers. So yeah Yusuke and Kuwabara finish plowing through the demons while Hiei kinda stalks them and remembers getting his eye surgery and wanting to help his sister but it’s kind of against spirit world rules for demons to just go plow through humans even if they’re scumbag humans so now Yusuke and Kuwabara have to go fight the Triad of boss demons Toguro has under him before Hiei busts in and just murders everyone for kidnapping his bird-loving jewel-crying little flower of a sister.

Fate Zero: So Kiritsugu can break Kayneth’s Terminator 2 Gaara defenses with rib bullets that just say ‘no’ to using magic and fucks his arrogant ass up. Saber and Lancer do some combo shenanigans to stab Caster right in the book and disrupt all his hentai tentacle demons but the book heals so idk why he can’t just make more. Kirei fucks up Maiya and Iris but didn’t double tap Maiya and DID double tap iris but she’s got Saber’s bullshit healing scabbard on her which no one knows about so Saber’s like “uhhh why are you healing” and Iris can’t tell her so she’s basically “Uhh internet?” Lancer comes in to save Kayneth’s worthless ass and tells Kiritsugu to stop being a dick to Saber because she’s pretty dope. But as usual for an early Fate encounter, no one dies and nothing of terrible consequence happens despite it being teased a couple times. I’ve noticed a trend with Fate that it really doesn’t like killing characters early so you’re basically guaranteed to have the first 2-3 major battles have a zero net gain/loss. Rider in UBW was probably the subversion to that since it happened crazy fast and anticlimactic but even that wasn’t till like ten episodes in.

Konosuba: So we finally meet Wiz the big booby Lich and Kazuma learns a new skill, both fun things. Also the gang gets a house to stay in after escapades with an army of haunted dolls and the most “I need to pee” in a horror setting since Corpse Party. But yeah, good progress this time honestly, the living in a stable gag was getting kind of old so Kazuma’s a bit stronger now and they have a home base so that’s pretty cool. Also Wiz is a Demon General or some shit but no one cares cause there ain’t no money in murdering busty zombie waifus.

Sailor Moon Crystal: So turns out Minako is Princess Serenity, except everyone who knows anything about Sailor Moon or indeed plot structure knows Sailor Moon is Princess Serenity, that’s like the Luke I Am Your Father of this series. But still turns out Minako has been guiding everyone with the power of video games but also thinks the power of friendship sucks and she’s gotta go do everything alone. This makes things super awkward because Mamoru’s pretty sure he was in love with the Princess but likes Usagi, now instead of running with this interesting thread of a reincarnation falling in love with someone new we’re gonna do the reveal that Usagi’s the princess and the whole ‘till death do us part’ part of marriage was just a metaphor and you’re stuck with one person no matter how many times you reincarnate. But yeah, Minako fights the bad guy on top of the tower but he has Naraku’s Barrier now and Minako doesn’t have the Red Tessaiga upgrade yet so she needs the power of friendship but this barrier is friendship-proof and this fight is basically a bunch of kids on the playground making up increasingly stupid powers that negate the other powers the other guy just made up. Anyway Tuxedo Mask shows up and is like “Holy shit Sailor Moon I love when you kiss me and kick ass, go get em sweetie I’ll hold your flower” and they kiss and Usagi has learned that if she just pretends she got this the power of her confidence will beat the bad guy. Unfortunately she does not got this and Tuxedo Mask has to pull a Piccolo and throw himself in front of the blast.

Durarara!!: So now that we’ve had our climax for the arc we have a six month timeskip and everyone’s just kinda living life, Mika and Seiji are being clinically insane together, there’s cops harassing Celty to the point of mental breakdown (normal cop stuff) Shinra’s dad’s in town, Namie’s become Izaya’s secretary for blackmail shit, you know, normal stuff. Also there’s a katana-wielding maniac going around slashing people and Anri’s being bullied and sexually harassed to the point of mental collapse, normal stuff.

#ooc #Toonami #Custom Toonami Block #Code Geass #Inuyasha #Yu Yu Hakusho #Fate Zero #Konosuba #Sailor Moon Crystal #Durarara!!

5 notes · View notes

heliosthegriffin · 3 years

Text

What to do after death; Vampirism

Preface -

I feel the name says it all.

But, I will elaborate anyhow.

I don’t intend on becoming a Vampire, at all. It’s a raw deal and one-way passage into a hell of my own making.

I suspect should I actively pursue becoming a Vampire I will lose my soul to damnation. Vampire’s are often the results of the foulest of magic and consorting with satanic entities with depraved offerings or just as often the results of those black souled individuals who find happiness in the torment of others. If I am not planning on becoming a Vampire, why I am I making this list?

Easy, it pays to be prepared. Just because I don’t seek undeath doesn’t protect me from being turned against my will. I am of the belief, once you have become a Vampire against your will you die and lose your soul, leaving a husk behind. A husk that has all your memories, personality, and desires, but none of the restraint, humanity or compassion. A sociopath with supernatural powers and a need for life essence of others to maintain my own parasitic existence.

I am making the list to give myself direction after death so as to prevent as much suffering as I can, and if possible, try and help humanity grow.

I can only hope my husk listens to my will.

My family is well armed otherwise, they will do what must be done, as I would do for them.

-----------

The List

-----------

Step One - Leave home, let’s not take any chances hurting my loved ones, or former loved ones, I owe them that much.

a) Construct a note though, tell them all how much they meant to me and why I am leaving, be through and leave nothing out, but don’t tell them where I am headed. Leave the code-word I have with our elder brother so he understands and tell him he’s free to what I leave behind.

b) Make a pack, get one of our knives in there and get a gun. Get some blankets so I can cover-up during the day, actually many blankets and some stones so that they’ll be weighted down. This is a temporary solution however.

c) Empty my bank account as much as possible. Cash and coin will be more beneficial if I’m going off the grid.

d) Leave town.

Step Two - Head north and head to a bigger city

a) Buy a sleeping bag and tent at the closest opportunity.

b) Keep an ear to the ground, find out who can go missing and people would be thankful that their gone. Pick my targets carefully, never more than one person at a time and always when their not expecting it, I’m a predator I should act like it. I might have supernatural powers, but I can’t be prepared for everything and people will know my weakness if I get found out.

c) Aim for the scum of the earth, get rid of them, but not until I have conclusive evidence. But, when I do have it, it’s feeding time, make sure to take their valuables, will need it for future plans.

d) Do that for about a month and move on, can’t stay anywhere for too long. But, before we leave buy a couple books on architecture, vampires, morals and ethics, stone-working, physics, building ect. We’re going to need it.

e) Find out if I can sustain our-self off animal blood.

Step Three - Rinse and Repeat. Go from city to city in our state till I’ve cleaned out what I can. Hopefully I’ll have a duffel-bag of money and valuables, along with those books.

a) Study those books. Find out what kind of vampire I am, make sure I learn about building castles.

b) Take some time to practice building.

c) Practice hunting; Hunt some animals to drink their blood if that helps, practice skinning and chopping up the parts. Donate the meat if I can, or leave at a poor home, they probably won’t be able to afford throwing it away.

d) Learn about interior decoration.

e) Get some better guns, drop off the gun we borrowed from our family along with a chunk of changes, leave them another note that we’re doing fine.

Step Four - Time to move. By the time I’ve hit this step I should have hit all the large towns, which depending we’re counting above or below ten thousand as a big town could take us from anywhere three years to around four if I cut off at nine thousand in population for a big town. It’s hard to say how much money I’ll have at this point, but It must be at least ten thousand dollars at a minimum if I’ve spent all my time eating, murdering, and robbing scum of the earth at least once a month for three to four years.

a) Head north. I need to get to Detroit. That place is so crime ridden no will notice a vampire. If there already vampires there leave, go find another crime-ridden hell-hole. I assume vampires get stronger, or at least craftier with age, I am not fucking with any old monsters.

b) On the way there repeat the Step three on any big cities on the way there, cover my tracks.

c) Make sure to pawn off what I can. Invest in urban camo and a bullet-resistant vest.

d) Keep practicing stone masonry, and improve my gun skills. I don’t need to chase anyone down if they can run, plus I can suck the blood from the wounds, it’ll be like a water fountain.

e) Read that book on physics and other science books, I am playing the long game, look into magic too. Nothing is better than magic or science than knowing the rules to both. Don’t fuck with demon’s though.

Step Five - Settle down for a while and then move again, once I get to my crime-ridden hellhole of my choice take some time to start eliminating the seedy elements. If not, start going for the low hanging fruit, I can’t help everybody, but I can help somebody.

a) Find some random kid and become their guardian, a great way to kill time probably.

ai.) By guardian, I don’t mean parent, I’m talking more guardian spirit. A vampire rasing a child is a recipe for disaster.

aii.) Don’t get too attached though, after their in a good place leave. I’m not doing it for good, I’m doing it to maintain a little humanity.

b) By now I should have enough to fund a new identity and since I now live in a corrupt hell-hole it should be easy to enter the system. If I don’t have enough money, then attain it. Don’t try and intimidate anybody just yet me, I don’t have enough influence yet and it’ll just end up screwing me over.

c) Buy an actually house, fake a life for about ten years, then move to another corrupt hell-hole. Start saving valuable, no, start a war found, we’re going to need it.

Step Six - Start prepping for the End. Humanity has conflict in it’s blood, it’s only a matter of time before we go nuclear. Use the funds we have to buy some land in the mountains. Use the stone masonry skills and architect skills I’ve attained over the last several decades to build a fortified castle with space age materials.

a) Create a underground vault for my mortals.

b) Install anti-air defenses, install ground defences, booby-trap my land.

c) Creating a sustainable area for farming if possible, if not work on making sustainable green houses.

d) Start preserving all of human history, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Movies, games, books, porn, all of it. It needs to be preserves. Put it all in the vault. Record all the science, by hand if neccasary.

e) Start stealing relics so that they can be preserved by me. I am definitely going Trazyn the Infinite.

f) Start recruiting people for my cause, screen each and every one.

g) Put my room at the top of the mountain with as long stair case as possible, If these fuckers want to kill me while I sleep I want them to have leg cramps while they do it. Also put booby trap my coffin room.

Step Seven - Rebuilding Society or keep playing the waiting game. If the world has torn itself apart, I will then do what I feel is the best choice. Create bio-augmented techno-knights, or not.

a) Hopefully decades of research on physics, matter, and engineering will allow me to create powered armor knights, but if not, just keep researching.

b) Make a secret castle deeper into the mountains no one else can reach without significant resources, or supernatural abilities. Start moving my lab, my vault, my copies of human history and media, plus my stored blood there.

c) When I finally succeed leave my first castle to my servants and teach them what I have to offer, leave them the blue prints for becoming techno-knights and leave. I no longer have a place among men or their future, I will merely safeguard the past and record it.

d) Go to my new castle and spend eternity studies reality and building more castles.

-------

Afterword: The probability of me becoming a vampire is close to zero, and the idea of my soul-less husk following is these steps is even less, but should it work it will have been worth it.

#My Stuff #Vampire #After death

5 notes · View notes

mcfanely · 4 years

Text

The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon

As their routine becomes intrinsic to their day, and honestly more enjoyable as time seemed to go on, the pressing matter of the mech and the broken processing unit couldn’t be put off indefinitely. Much to Cole’s chagrin.

Chapter 06 - Out of Sight, 2571 words

Cole let out a heaving breath from where he was laid on the floor, his hair was stuck to the sweat beading on his forehead as he paused, forcing some oxygen back into his body. He eventually got up, and easily settled back into a fighting stance. His legs a shoulder width apart and his arms raised in front of him, fists clenched.

Zane mirrored the position meticulously.

This was the morning routine.

Just because they were stranded in a foreign realm didn't mean they were going to let their skills and training be wasted because they weren't actively using them.

That, and any form of inactivity, Cole could swear he could hear the phantom words of Sensei Wu when he'd realised that they'd taken being lazy to a whole other level after the defeat of the Oni.

He shuddered lightly at the memory, at all the booby traps that had been set around the monastery. All the times they'd been caught out, and called out about going soft.

He wasn't going to go soft now, and the best thing about fighting against Zane, they each knew the others limits.

They knew when the other was holding back, and being in a cave, just the two of them, they could fight and train to their heart's content without someone else encroaching on their training area or having to rotate and spar with someone else.

They could just fight, and if they felt like it, agree that other than severe and possibly major physical trauma; they wouldn't hold back.

Cole hadn't held back when he'd struck Zane hard enough to send him flying clear to the other end of the cavern.

Zane didn't hold back when he'd used his shoulder to barge Cole into a wall and will the ice there to grab onto his clothing; weave into his hair until all he could do was stand there like a frozen popsicle, feeling every inch that the ice encroached further.

This time it was hand to hand combat, strictly no powers; Cole had cracked the floor where he'd flipped Zane, and Zane had probably successfully given him a black eye. So they were even, and frankly enjoying themselves.

No restrictions. No interruptions.

Zane was the first to move forwards, and Cole made the mistake assuming he was going to aim high. His posture lent towards it, arms up and covering the face and his shoulder level. Only, Zane dropped at the last second and swept Cole's feet out from under him.

He was down in a second, but recovered even faster. Cole hooked a foot behind Zane's knee and pulled. Zane dropped forwards, but Cole kept up his momentum. He wrapped his legs around Zane's, locking them into place as they scuffled and rolled on the ground for some form of purchase. Zane was going for it, he was twisting in the hold, striking his elbow backwards into where Cole's chest was in an effort to get his strength to wain and relent.

Cole winced with every contact, but carried on. He flipped Zane over on the ground until his back was pressed against Cole's chest. One arm threaded around the front of Zane's neck, and the other acted as a way to lock it in place. Then the struggling and brawl came to an end when Cole tightened the choke-hold and straightened out his body.

Zane wasn't going to be going anywhere. His legs were immobile, his back had limited movement because Cole was forcing him to keep his body straight with the arm over his neck.

There was a moment where neither of them moved, Zane's hands were wrapped around Cole's wrist. After a couple seconds, he released the hold and Zane promptly rolled off to the side, rubbing his neck lightly.

Cole sat up, a hand coming up to rest against his lightly bruised ribs, but that wasn't important at the time. "Are you okay, I didn't hurt you too bad, right?" He questioned. He liked to think he knew his own strength.

Zane eventually dropped his hand and sat back, shaking his head with a smile. "I am perfectly fine, nothing severe. How's your side?"

Cole laughed, "Okay. Little bruised but at least I won." And that was the whole point, technically. Or it wasn't, no one was really keeping score.

"What's that, the first time in three days?"

"Shut it, tin can, let me revel in my victory."

He definitely heard the quiet exasperated sigh that came from Zane as he collected himself up off the floor. He didn't miss the eye roll either.

"Sore loser?" he joked as Zane held out a hand to help him up off the floor. The offer was accepted easily and eventually Cole was up and dusting himself off.

"Just sore."

Cole grinned, "Because you lost."

Zane waved a hand, as if to say that it’s all water under the bridge before he retrieved their makeshift bucket, fashioned from a domed piece of metal that had fallen off the mech. It held water collected from a nearby river, still very cold, but after a fight, very refreshing.

"Thanks," Cole said as he took some water into his hands and wiped his face clean of any grime. Training was probably the best part of the day, and the least stressful.

It was their form of relaxation, a way to zone out from the actual pressing problem of trying to survive day to day.

"What are your plans for today?" Zane questioned after a second, spurring on the conversation.

Even though day to day, the routine stayed the same. More or less.

"Head out, the storm from last night has dropped a bit - I mean, it's still snowing but we need to stock up on food for a couple days, just in case it starts up again. I'll go to that lake we scouted, spend today fishing."

Cole pushed himself up off the ground. Better head off sooner rather than later, more time fishing would ideally translate to a higher turn around of fish. That was the idea, anyway. He brushed himself off.

Zane had made his way over to the computer screen, connecting one of the jumper cables back to the battery so it powered up.

"What're you going to do? Tinker with the mech again?" He asked, walking over to his companion with a slight smile, "You could always take a break from it, have a quiet day. What can be done today can be done tomorrow."

"You should never put off tomorrow, what can be done today."

Cole sighed and rolled his eyes, "Quoting Sensei Wu, really?"

"I was only observing the fact that the advice you gave me was not accurate to what we've previously been told."

"And I was saying, there's no harm in taking a break." He gestured over to the mech loosely, then brought his hand up to brush some hair out of his face. It was starting to get unruly. "I'll go and catch some food, maybe scout the area a little more, you can take a break here. Your job today can be keeping an eye on the mech."

"You know I'm not a fan of sitting around."

Cole held up his hands in a mock show of surrender, "I know that. You've just been doing stuff constantly--"

"As have you--

"-- Over the past couple weeks,"

"Twenty-five days,"

"I'm just saying," He shrugged, "no harm in a day off."

Zane seemed to think on the advice for a second, though when his eyes flicked quickly between the mech and the green cable they'd trailed from the motherboard down to the ground the day prior, Cole was ready to shut the idea down.

He knew what Zane was going to say, "We," Cole gestured between the two of them when his brother's attention moved back over to him, "Will sort out the damage to the processing unit later on, when I'm back."

"A system diagnostic to discern the problem would barely take more than two minutes. If at all that."

As if the whole process was as simple as that.

They'd sat down and spoken about what could be done with the problem when they'd first figured it out. It had been awesome, a big relief to even know a possible cause for the mech's inactivity.

Then Zane had given the details about what would be done next, how he'd have to connect himself to the mech to get a better idea of what was wrong.

And what could go wrong with the process itself.

On the mech's behalf, an irreparable system failure.

But for Zane…

"Cole, we can't keep putting this off, we need to do it at some point." He reasoned, placing one hand onto Cole's shoulder to keep his attention, though his eyes were trailing elsewhere around the room.

They could talk about it later, do it later.

Anything not to see his friend at risk.

"If we can get the mech working, we can scout more of our surroundings, move over the snow and ice both quicker and much more safely. We can leave it running and get warm." Zane sighed, eyeing Cole's gi. The one dotted with rips and holes and was probably in no way keeping the biting winds at bay, yet he was still the one volunteering to go outside.

He was going to head out the cave soon too, and here Cole was giving a small speech about safety and how he didn't want Zane risking himself when that was exactly what he was doing.

Unless, he had a way to protect himself, keep himself safe, an extra line of defence.

Zane cleared his throat, then said, "You should take the staff with you."

Cole paused and raised an eyebrow as if he hadn't taken in what had been said, though in reality he had, he just wasn't so sure, "I should what?"

"Take the staff. If you're so insistent on risking freezing to death, you should take something that can prevent that."

He stared.

Then he moved his attention to the staff.

Then back to Zane, who had promptly busied himself with the screen and the wiring in the back of it.

"I'm not insistent--" Cole sighed and moved over to his brother, to properly get his attention away from his not so subtle attempt at avoiding the coming conversation. "Neither of us have used the staff since we moved the mech in here," He gestured over to where the staff was situated, on the exact wall it had been propped against when Zane had put it down previously. Cole intended for it to stay there.

Sure, the rush of power it gave was truly an… Experience. It was like a tidal wave, a huge oncoming force that seemed to crash over the wielder and drowned out all sense of anything but the sheer force and power it wrought with it.

Sometimes Cole laid awake in the dead of twilight just staring up at the cavern ceiling, long past when Zane had turned in for the night. He found his mind wandering, getting lost in thought, and for some reason it always ended up on the same subject.

If he picked up the staff, if he used it, then it could make their current situation a whole lot easier. He could use it to hunt more effectively, get different foods other than the fish he managed to catch on a daily basis. He'd seen rabbits hopping about, birds in trees, and whilst they were fair game; the energy expenditure in comparison to sitting down and waiting for a fish to bite his line wasn't worth it.

Energy conservation in a cold environment was key, there was no sense in wearing himself out going for trickier prey animals just for some sense of variety to a meal.

But the staff… Cole wouldn't have to worry about contending with the elements. He wouldn't have to stress out over getting tired, or not catching much food, some extra power could help with that.

The staff…

The scroll.

"Cole?" came a questioning voice, and his attention quickly flicked to Zane's face crowding his own.

If Zane hadn't been standing right in front of him, Cole would have been staring directly at the staff.

How long had he zoned out?

"I'm not going to take the staff." He concluded after a moment, running one hand through his hair. He'd been out multiple times already to fish, the track there and back was already etched fairly solidly into his brain and it wasn't as if it was a mile off. Barely five minutes, nothing really.

Cole didn't miss the slightly relieved look that passed over Zane's face. He'd probably settled on his recommendation being a bad idea. "We should figure out a way to cover the thing, you know, when I get back later." He mumbled.

Zane nodded slowly, "Out of sight out of mind."

Had he been thinking about the staff too? Or was Cole on his own with that?

Cole clapped his hands and cleared his throat, startling them both back into their initial route of conversation.

"We'll run the diagnostic when I get back. We can have something to eat, clear our heads, then run the diagnostic."

He could see Zane pondering over that idea at that very moment, and Cole knew what his rebuttal would be, it was fairly simple to predict.

So he beat him to it, "If it takes two minutes, then we can do it when I'm here. I don't want you doing this on your own, just trust me on this. I want you to be safe."

Zane let out a slight laugh, "Says the person who always braves the snow to go fishing. What if I want you to be safe too? It's a miracle that you haven't gotten hypothermia, or even a cold over the past few days."

"Hey, it's not just been me going out, you've been doing it too. And I don't like watching you walk out of this cavern anymore than you like watching me, but we gotta eat. Or, like, I do." He waved the point away with a flick of his hand, "You risk your life as much as I risk mine, and we agreed that we can't just leave this place unguarded. Just because we haven't seen anyone around doesn't mean this place is empty."

"How observant of you."

Cole's eyes widened and he scoffed, "Wow. The sarcasm." He put a hand to his chest and winced in mock pain, "That hurt. I'm hurt."

"Go fishing, Cole."

"And now you're sending me away."

There was an audible and exasperated sigh.

That just made Cole grin more. He walked over to the entrance of the cave and retrieved his fishing rod, a simple stick with a stripped and useless fried wire they'd found during their preliminary check of the mech. Though it did its job, it caught fish which was it's main and only purpose.

He was about to step out into the light flurry of snow, though he gave a quick glance back. Zane was still tinkering lightly with the computer screen, for whatever purpose, though as if sensing someone looking at him, he looked up and caught the Earth ninja's eye.

They shared a small smile, and a nod before Cole went on his way.

From the beginning

Ch 05 > Ch 06 > Ch 07

AO3

#The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon AU #The Ice Emperor and The Earth Dragon #cole #zane #cole brookstone #zane julien #cole ninjago #zane ninjago #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #The Ice Emperor #mcfanely writes #mcfanely aus #mcfanely

32 notes · View notes

aksthetwosainthijimiko-blog · 4 years

Text

I am not Zero, part two

“Thank you.” Dhira.... Lalita.... Zero inclined his head as took the new E-tank from Hidden Phantom, one the Shinobi had fetched from behind a secret emergency unit.

Zero cracked it open, but didn't drink it yet. Instead, he seemed to be offering it to someone... probably his imaginary friend.

The black and white Shinobi grunted as he studied the ancient build.

... For something that was over a hundred-year-old, Zero didn’t look all that different from Phantom and his brethren, being manufactured at the same time, four years ago in a bid to stop the maverick uprising by giving Master X some potent assistants.

He still looked very worn tough, but who wouldn't after running up the booby-trapped tower and fighting hords of pantheons and the guardians?

‘Any lesser reploid would not have made past the fifth floor’ Of this, Phantom was certain.

“Say... Phantom?” Zero addressed the Shinobi. “Can you hide yourself from X?” Zero asked as he finally began to sip from the can.

“You want me to spy on my Master.” Phantom flatly stated.

“As a Ninja, we do not have masters, and we do not follow the general morality, just a Strong code of ethic and respect.”

If the one you serve is less than stellar and is using your mystic skills to opresse instead of protecting; then it is your duty to kill him.” Zero declared with eyes holding cold steel. “Hidden Phantom, you are not a Dog-like Samurai who will slavishly follow the order of his master unquestionably. You are a Shinobi, a free agent, and instrument of divine justice to be used for those who have abused their power!”

Phantom reflectively swallowed... this, was not the confused dog he had fought the first two times, but an ancient warrior, a Shinobi who lived by the code...

And yet.

“Big words for Ciel’s attack mutt.” phantom gave a nasty smirk.

“I don’t serve Ciel.” Zero flatly refuted as he sipped from the E-tank, letting out a small sigh of relief. “But... I am the Servant of a worthy master.” He admitted with a beautiful and ever-so grateful smile.

Phantom would forever hate himself... but at this moment, Zero became the most beautiful and handsome reploid on the planet.

“Oh? And who would that be?” He asked instead, trying not to stare at the bright-faced maverick. Intel about the red Legend was harder to come by then one would expect.

“ You don’t know them and... They’re not In Neo-Arcadia.” Zero informed the Shinobi, who was now all ears.

“Not in... some reploids raiders, are they?”

“Nope!” Zero took a sip. “A couple of Vaishnavas living in France. In Nouvelle Mayapure.”

“You’re lying!” Phantom immediately denied. “Neo-Arcadia is the last Bastion of humanity, beyond its sacred walls lies a radiated desert!”

“Not everywhere.” Zero simply answered. “Sure most of the big cities are still ruins. But small villages and small settlements have grown into other cities... Nouvelle-Mayapure is one of them. And this was where I found my master and his Saintly wife.” Zero drained the last of the thank and after consuming the can (it was made of specialized Alloy needed by reploids.) He got up. “As much as I would love to keep chatting about my Gurus, we have plenty on our plates... and I would rather not make X wait for me any longer.”

“Right... lead the way.” Phantom bid as he activated his cloaking device and shut off all unneeded communication... essentially, appearing as dead.

:Zero... please wait five minute, I want them all to think I died.: He Radioed the eldest built. And, after five minutes went to the transerver.

He could feel his pump pulsating... what would be revealed from this confrontation?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Phantom stood hidden behind Zero, the natural darkness of Area X masking whatever had been left by his cloaking device.

In front of his stood master X, in all of his glories. He was glaring at Zero with both fear and rage. His red eyes glowing in the gloom of the room.

Zero took a few steps forward when the three other guardians teleported in.

“Stop!” Harpuia yield as he launched a wind blade... his accuracy greatly diminished by his wounds.

“We won’t allow you to pass!” Fefnir roared.

“... J... Just give up!” Leviathan managed to say in between her gasps.

It seemed Zero had not been lenient on her.

:Zero... And I thought you holy man would not hit a woman. : Phantom mildly scolded the so called... servant of God. :Not so above all, are you?:

:Technically, we are all female by nature.: Zero replied without a pause as he prepared for the worst. :And Leviathan is a... A coward like the rest of your group... but she’s still considered a warrior in her own right.:

:Cowards?:

:A real warrior will fight to the death and will gladly die in the battlefield... you all ran away the moment you began feeling some of your wounds.:

“Leave, you won’t survive this fight.” The voice of his master resounded from the dark area of the room. Interrupting whatever argument Phantom may have had.

On one side, Phantom knew Master X was right. None of them were in any condition to face the fool...and yet!

They could have given some support to the emperor of Neo-Arcadia. But alas, their Master desired to fight his traitorous friend alone.

He would win, of this, Phantom was sure... like, absolutely sure...

After a round of very understandable cursing, all guardians vacated the place, leaving only Zero, Master X and the hidden Phantom behind.

Zero gave a good look at Master X, then he opened communication with Phantom.

:Phantom, whatever happen... please don’t kill him.:

:I will be the judge of that.:

: Krishna told me the next step will be easier if he’s still alive... and knowing your skills, there would be no chance to even try to reason with him.:

:Reason with him?: Phantom almost asked.

: He’s only four year old, Phantom... he’s practicly a child.:

:If your right, that is.:

Zero didn’t awnser, instead, he turned his attention towards master X. “Who are you?“Do you have a name?”

‘Ah, Acting dumb, are you?’ Once again, Phantom was eager to see where this would be going.

Master X sneered, his red eyes shining with... malice? ‘No, that can’t be right.’

“What you don't remember your old friend? It’s me Zero, X!”

Zero kept looking at his old friend as if he was a stranger... and then.

“X has Green eyes.”

Those four words had the same effect of a missile detonating in the middle of Neo-arcadia.

“He’s five foot three, you barely five feet in height. His nose was covered in freckles, your skin is smooth... And X’s voice is deeper, yours is childlike.”

Master X... is he really was whom he declared to be, sneered.

“Let me ask you again; who are you?”

“I’m X’s perfect copy!” The Copy revealed himself. Opening his arms as his natural cruelty manifested himself in his smile. “I am the new hero, the one who will save the humanity from this wasted world!”

For his part, phantom did his best to remain concealed as he watched a monster move the body of his beloved master.

Phantom knew body language, he had a dedicated computer designated for those type of programs.

“Didn’t you noticed Zero?” The copy continued... and Phantom could only hope his body language was just an illusion. “Humans have never been this happy before. And this is all due to me.” he raised his hands as pride filled his chest. “I have managed to achieve the goal neither of you even managed to come close... I Have achieved what X never could!”

“Alright, and who are you?” Zero asked again. Not with anger (admirably enough). “Do you have a name? A number? Any type of designation?”

This question seemed to take...

Phantom’s eyes grew wider behind his mask... Zero had established that this reploid was but a mere copy, now he needed to know who he truly was.

The copy worked his mouth for a bit, it was clear that Zero managed to catch him in a loop. “I... I’m... AH...”

“They called you X.”

“Shut up!”

“They didn’t even bother giving you your own identity.”

“Shut up!”

“Tell me... how did you discover that you were made at the image of my best friend?” Zero asked as he showed no sing of agretion. His posture was relaxed, and while his arms were crossed, they didn’t carry any sign of fear or mistrust.

His voice was modulated in such a way that it carried a type of kindness only experienced councillor. But from What Phantom had managed to gather from the public enemy number one... Zero was never a councillor, but had needed one.

Unfortunately, he never went to see him, and instead, sealed himself again. Essentially committing suicide, if his final logs were of any indications.

And then Zero’s reaction to Phantom’s attempt made all the more senses.

“Why should I tell you, Maverick.” The Copy spat. “You're a Criminal, a terrorist!”

“I didn’t bomb a peaceful settlement... and I would never murder my kind because human’s can’t live without their Internet and whatever electronic drugs on the market for them.” Zero openly sneered.

“What’s wrong with them if it makes them Happy?” The Copy shot back. “They have whatever they want, they have all the pleasure they desire... Isn’t it the goal of life for them? To have as much pleasure and happiness before death come, and they become nothing?”

“No.” Zero awnser flatly. “ The living entity is the eternal soul, for him, death is but a change of costume.” He explained, reminding Phantom that he was indeed a spiritual practitioner.

Weirdly enough.

“ You want to make your humans happy... and this is the desire of all great leader. But the only thing you saved what the cage the soul is stuck it.” He declared bodily. “No one can truly be happy and not serve God with Love, it’s impo-”

“Oh, Shut up would you?” The Copy snapped. “ The soul’s a myth, scientists has managed to replicate human consciences in machines.” He sneered as he aimed his buster (left-handed) at Zero. “Wake up, Zero, this is the age of technology and cold, hard fact! The whole concept of God and the soul has been busted, I know we’re all going to die, so better enjoy whatever life I have left.”

“And yet, reploids are doing an action only embodied spirit soul can; they desire! They have emotions... and you killed them all for a false sense of peace and artificial prosperity... and out for your own twisted sense of so-called pleasure.” Zero sneered and Phantom realized that he was getting rilled up.

He had heard stories and inspected the result of what a rilled-up Zero could do... it was not pretty.”

And science didn’t disprove anything save the intelligence of those who worship it.” The Blond legend raised his voice as he jabbed an accusatory finger at the copy. “What did science gave us save from a hundred years worth of wars, famines and false promises of a better tomorrow? It did nothing, absolutely nothing... nothing but more misery hidden behind a veneer of so-called pleasure.”

Copy stared owlishly at the Mad maverick, computing what he had just said.

Then... a mocking smile split his lips has he began to cackle at the crazy blond.

“Your... you're funny. You’re hilarious.” phantom heart the bank grade bolt lock the only two exits the room. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“... So, you want to fight?” Zero asked As he took out his Z-sabre. “You demons are all the same.“ He growled. “Fine... Yamaraja was waiting for you anyway.”

And thus... the most brutal of fight began as Phantom helplessly looked on.

---------------------------------------

To be continued.

#megaman #Megaman Zero #Zero #vaishnavism #Copy X #Hidden Phantom #fanfiction #fanfic #I'm not gonna stop #Zero is the best viral agent out there

4 notes · View notes

randomfandomfamily · 4 years

Text

So, people apparently try to use Dewey as a sacrifice. A lot. I’m sure that turns out fine.

Most of the time.

Tagging @sophfandoms53, because darling you are my inspiration, and @3kkh0, because you asked me very nicely not to fuck up the adorable danger dumbass.

Being tied up wasn’t an ideal situation. By far Dewey’s least favorite part of adventuring with his family, and it happened more often than he’d like. If he was tied up, he couldn’t run around and search for booby traps or bust a move whenever the team was in need of a victory dance.

It’s not that being tied up made him feel helpless or anything. He just liked being able to move. If he was tied up then he couldn’t move, and moving was required for running. Escaping. He really needed to be escaping right about now.

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He forced himself to take a breath and clear his head. Everyone else would be here soon and voila! Rescue for Dewford Duck!

… again.

He made another attempt at wriggling out of the ropes, but to no avail. Sometimes it worked, particularly newer religions who hadn’t had much experience, but this was an ancient tribe. Needless to say, they were pretty good at tying knots.

Giving up on trying to get out of the ropes, he stood up and started looking for a way out of the… pit… cage? It was a hole in the ground with a bunch of branches woven together to keep him in. He wasn’t sure why they bothered with the branch thing. After a few failed attempts it became pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to climb out.

“Ugh,” Dewey groaned as he leaned against the dirt wall. “What do these guys even want?”

Huey and Uncle Scrooge weren’t there to answer his question, so he tried to remember what they had said in the plane on the way there. It was a tribe–a really old one–that believed in some all-powerful god. Classic ancient tribe stuff.

Whether or not the god was real was up for debate. Dewey had met a couple of gods before, so it wasn’t impossible. But the only reason this tribe believed in this stupid god was because they managed to get their hands on some magic spear a really long time ago.

According to Uncle Scrooge, this thing couldn’t miss. No matter how you threw the spear, it would nail the target every time. So now they were looking for the spear because… adventure. Also, super cool weapon.

Huey and Webby had talked the whole way there about rituals of the tribe and how their hierarchy worked, but Dewey hadn’t been paying attention. He heard god and spear and pretty much checked out of the conversation.

He was mostly just excited about the adventure part of the whole ordeal.

A rustling made him glance back up. A pair of painted masks removed the woven branches and stared down at him.

Considerably less excited at this point.

“So!” Dewey said nonchalantly. “Do I get to leave the hole, or-” He was interrupted by one of the tribe members grabbing him by the ropes secured around his torso. “Hey! Ow! Easy with the merchandise, guys.”

Well, at least he was out of the hole now. The sun was dangerously close to completely disappearing behind the horizon, and torches were being lit up around the tribe’s village.

He still wasn’t worried, though. Even if it was getting kinda dark. It would be harder to locate the tribe, sure, but come on. This was his family, all experienced adventurers. They’d still be able to find him, easy.

“You know you’re in big trouble as soon as my family shows up, right?” Dewey asked. He was ignored and led towards the middle of the tribe’s village. “My friend Webby could take you guys, no problem. And my Uncle Donald? Oh hoooo, buddy, he’ll tear this place apart.”

More tribe members started emerging from the primitive huts. There were a lot more of them than he thought. But it would be nothing for his family of adventurers. Plus! Launchpad had even joined them for this one, so they were even more prepared.

He glanced around for any sign of his family. Nothing so far, but that wasn’t so unusual. The point of rescue varied from adventure to adventure. Some days busting him out of the cage, other times a dramatic save from the altar.

Personally, he wasn’t a fan of that second option. Not that he didn’t trust his family to save him, it was just a little more nerve-wracking. Not scary, of course. He wasn’t scared of these people and their magic spear. He was Dewey Duck. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

Dewey spotted a small group of tribe members with drums.”Oh! You guys have music set up for the occasion? You really know how to have a good time.” One burly tribesman glared down at him. Dewey brushed off how uneasy he felt. “What kind of sacrifice is this, anyway? No, wait, let me guess. You’re going to… stab me with the magic spear?”

They didn’t answer, but a chant had started to rise, low voices muttering nonsense. Dewey hated the chanting. It was so unsettling.

Too unsettling. Time to distract himself. “You know, stabbing has got to be my favorite kind of sacrifice. Simple, yet effective. Less is more, know what I’m saying?”

He was bad at this. It was easy to talk to people that liked him, but it was hard to talk himself out of trouble. That’s what Louie was good at. Louie knew how people acted, what to say get people on his side, or at least get them to not kill him.

But Dewey didn’t understand people like that. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t have the skills to get himself out of the situation like Webby. And he certainly didn’t have Huey’s resourcefulness, either.

Maybe that’s why he was getting taken all the time. It was just so glaringly obvious that he’d be the easiest target.

Dewey clenched his fists at his sides. Not now. He could re-evaluate his worth later. After he was back at the mansion. And tomorrow he could pretend he got a full night’s sleep, when he actually just spent hours staring out his window and counting stars.

He spotted the spear. Some guy with a big leafy-looking crown was holding it. Definitely the leader, but not the sacrifice guy. Huey called them priests, Louie called them cultists, but Dewey didn’t really care what they were called, he just wished they’d stop trying to use him in sacrifices.

Though, he supposed it was better him than some other rando they found in the woods. He had people that would look for him. And find him. Hopefully soon.

“Okay, so the big guy over there has the spear,” Dewey said. He was trying to stall, but it wasn’t really working. “But he’s kinda standing all the way over there with the spear, so how’s this sacrifice going to…” He watched the guy in the crown pass the spear over to a guy in an ornate cape. Also made of leaves, somehow. “Never mind. I guess that’s how it’s going to work.”

There wasn’t a traditional altar, just a simple wooden post in the middle of the platform. It made sense, actually. Most sacrifices were done with a knife, but with a spear? That wouldn’t really work laying down.

Dewey shook his head to clear his thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to be complimenting the tribe on their practical methods of sacrifice, he needed to think. He’d run this course so many times, way more times than he should have, he should be able to think this through.

First thing, getting untied. The light from the torches caught something on the ground in front of him. Discarded spearhead. It was either from someone’s broken weapon or one that just never got attached to anything, but whatever the case, it was good news for him.

All he had to do was grab it. Feigning the trip was easy enough for an actor as brilliant as he was, but he nearly missed the narrow window of opportunity to snatch the spearhead off the ground before the two tribespeople leading him towards his doom quickly yanked him back to his feet.

“Sorry guys,” Dewey said easily, holding the sharp stone tightly in his hand. “Lost my balance for a sec there.” The stone was digging into his hand, but he couldn’t afford to loosen his grip in case someone saw it.

He scanned the trees while painted masks started securing him to there post. Where was everybody? They were usually here by now. It was starting to look like he was gonna have to get out of this one himself. Which was fine, obviously, he’d done that before.

There was a moment of panic when they were tying his hands behind him that he thought someone saw the stone. To his relief, they backed off the platform without giving him a second glance. As soon as they left to join the rest of the chanters, he set to work trying to get the ropes off.

It always looked easier in the movies. The movies didn’t show how bad the rope chafed your skin when you worked the stone back and forth. And they didn’t show how much the rock slipped because you can’t see what you’re doing, either.

The chanting was starting to get louder. This was bad. Not bad enough for him to start panicking, because he never ever panicked, but it was still kinda bad.

“You guys are seriously gonna regret this,” Dewey warned. “My family is out looking for me. They’re about to find me, I guarantee it.” His gaze darted to the treeline. Still no sign of anyone.

If it was just Uncle Scrooge, Webby, and his brothers like it used to be, he’d assume they were trying to ambush the tribe. But Uncle Donald, his mother, and Launchpad were on this mission. And no offense to any of them, he loved them dearly, but stealth wasn’t their strong suit.

So if he couldn’t hear Uncle Donald yelling or Launchpad crashing through the trees, that meant they weren’t here. And if they weren’t here…

Bad. This was actually bad. He tried to think of something to say, literally anything, but the words weren’t coming out any more. The only thing he could do was reassure himself that his family was going to be there soon. They always were.

Unless they weren’t.

The priest-cult-whatever-he-was held up the spear. Under normal circumstances, Dewey could count on the darkening sky and flickering firelight to obscure their vision enough to maybe miss. But this was a spear that couldn’t miss.

Baaaaaaaaad. Bad bad bad. Really bad.

The arm holding the spear pulled back to throw just as Dewey heard the ropes finally snap. He shook his hands free and ducked just as the spear flew over his head.

He couldn’t hear much over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he was pretty sure the chanting was turning into angry shouting. And if they were gonna be angry anyway, then he might as well take their special spear while he made his escape, right?

The seconds it took to pull the magic spear out of the post cost him, but he was sure Uncle Scrooge would be happy he managed to grab it. The normal spear that grazed his left arm wasn’t a big deal. Angry people with spears were all part of adventuring and definitely manageable.

There wasn’t much left to do but run. “So long, crazy sacrifice people!” He called as he jumped off the platform. “I’m off to- whoa!” He realized his mistake the instant he hit the ground. The spear wasn’t going to let up until it hit the target, and it hadn’t hit him yet.

Why didn’t he leave it in the stupid post?

It was a struggle to run and stop the spear he was holding from impaling him. He wasn’t sure how to make it stop, but stumbling earned him another spear that he didn’t quite dodge in time. He was only vaguely aware that his right shoulder was hit, but he was sure he’d feel the sting as soon as the adrenaline wore off, which wouldn’t be any time soon considering he was getting chased.

“Stop. Stop it.” He hid behind a tree and pushed the spear away from himself. “Ah, if Webby were here, she’d know how to fix this.” Taking the spear with both hands, he forced the tip of the spear to face the ground. “Alright, think.

“You’re Dewey Duck, the world’s greatest eleven year old adventurer. You can figure this out.” The sound angry shouts grew closer at an alarming rate. “Okay, I can figure this out in a minute.” He took off running again, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Talking was usually how he coped with stress. He’d pretty much been talking since he got separated from his family. That probably wasn’t a good idea at the moment, but he couldn’t help muttering to himself anyway. It was hardly a whisper, really, but it kept his fear to reasonable levels.

“Fear?” He muttered as he shoved aside the underbrush in his way. “Since when do I deal with fear? I don’t do fear. I am not afraid.” The light from a torch barely registered before the painted face appeared. Dewey scrambled to back up and keep running. “Not that way!”

Still not afraid. Absolutely not afraid. Would his Uncle Scrooge be afraid? No way! So he just had to concentrate on not getting stabbed by this stupid magic spear.

Though, in hindsight, maybe he should’ve concentrated on running, too. It didn’t occur to him that running blindly through the woods in the dark wasn’t a good idea until he was already rolling down the hill.

Good news, he covered a lot of ground with how quickly he descended the slope. Bad news, there were a lot more things hurting now. He was pretty sure his back had hit a rock on the way down, which very effectively knocked the wind out of him. Not to mention he was about seventy-six percent sure his leg was gonna have a nasty bruise and-

He was forgetting something.

His blurry vision cleared up just in time to see the spear he dropped speeding towards him from above. He rolled to his left to dodge it. And, thanks to his incredible adventuring skills, he did dodge it. Mostly. He mostly dodged it. And mostly dodging it was totally fine. If you got mostly correct answers on a test, you still got a good grade.

Bright side. He needed a bright side to this.

“Come on, get up,” Dewey scolded himself. “Spear hit me in the side, and that’s not great. Bright side. It’s not stuck in my side, it’s stuck in the ground.” He used the spear to stand himself back up. “And bonus, if it hit me, then its job is done. Which means I can safely carry it back to… um…”

Where was he again? He was pretty sure he was headed back in the right direction when he first started running, but now…

“Great,” Dewey said bitterly. “Okay, wait, this is still fine. Everyone’s probably out looking for me still. I’m bound to run into someone eventually. I just have to keep walking.” Distant shouts made him shudder. “Never mind. I’m running.”

He took about two steps and nearly fell again. He had to plant the spear in the ground to keep himself from falling over. “Never mind again. Running is not happening.” Walking was still a pain, but considerably easier than full-on running.

If Huey were here he’d probably say something smart. Like how Dewey should probably take a piece of cloth to try and stop the bleeding in his side.

Fortunately, his shirt was already ripped from the spear. He paused to take off his short-sleeved overshirt and tore it up so that it could tie around his torso. It probably wasn’t the best patch job, but it’d work until he found the others.

Unfortunately, his family was a little harder to find than he thought they’d be. He considered shouting to see if anyone could hear him, but given the tribe of people he had robbed of a sacrifice and a magic spear, yelling seemed like a bad idea.

Not that they wouldn’t catch up to him eventually anyway. His progress was getting slower by the second. They’d figure out where he was sooner or later and-

That was a torch.

Dewey nearly tripped for what seemed like the hundredth time and stood behind the truck of a tree. He rubbed at his eyes furiously, trying to force back the tears that sprang into his eyes after he tripped. Much like everything else that was happening to him right now, crying would be bad.

The light swung in his direction. If Dewey were allowed to curse, he would have. Because really, how stupid did you have to be to trip while you were being chased? This was, like, the bajillionth time.

Probably the last time too.

A very irrational part of his brain forced him to close his eyes, like the light would disappear if he couldn’t see it. The logic was every bit as sound as hiding under his covers, convinced that the hoodie Louie left on the chair was a monster, but logic wasn’t exactly his area of expertise.

He could hear someone walking close by. If his mother and Uncle Donald were here, they would tell him to be brave or something. That was usually so easy for him. So why did it feel like his throat was starting to close up?

Dewey slid down the truck of the tree and sat on the ground. He was scared. It felt ridiculous and stupid, but his side hurt and it was dark and he couldn’t find his family and he was scared.

The sound of footsteps were closer now. Like, really close. Way too close. Dewey tightened his grip on the spear. Usually he would love an excuse to wield a magic weapon, but not tonight.

The tears he had been trying so desperately to hold back started to slip out. He couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to.

He could hear whoever was holding the torch just on the other side of the tree. Clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any noise from coming out, Dewey waited for the footsteps to pass.

By some miracle, they actually did pass. They walked right by him. Dewey was sure they’d hear his heartbeat, and he nearly collapsed in relief when the footsteps receded, but he forced himself to stand up.

And then he ran. He didn’t care if his side hurt or not, he wanted to find his family. He wanted to give Uncle Scrooge this stupid spear and never look at it ever again.

A low rumbling caught his attention. “The plane,” Dewey said breathlessly. He changed directions and ran towards the sound. Normally he’d try for a grand entrance, but he was way too relieved to care.

Now, Launchpad had been told to stay with the plane while the others looked for Dewey. He hadn’t expected to be the one that saw Dewey first. But the duck that stumbled into view was undoubtedly his best friend and boy was it good to see him.

“Dewey!” Launchpad jumped up and waved enthusiastically. “There you are! I haven’t seen you in forever!” He frowned as he noticed Dewey looked a little less-than-fantastic. “You don’t look so good.”

The younger duck laughed weakly. “Trust me, I’m doing much better now.” He was using a spear as a walking stick. When did Dewey get a spear? Launchpad didn’t remember him having a spear before. “Where is everyone else?”

“Looking for you,” Launchpad answered. “And a magic spear that never misses. I’m here with the plane in case we have to make a quick… getaway.” He smiled brightly. “Oh hey! You’ve got the magic spear! Awesome! Mr. McD will- oh geez.” Launchpad reached out and steadied Dewey, who was right on the verge of falling over. “You really don’t look so good.”

Dewey clung to the sleeve of Launchpad’s jacket with his free hand. “I’m fine,” he whispered in a quivering voice, “I just wanna go home.”

Launchpad immediately scooped him up. It wasn’t very hard, Dewey was light and very small. It still made him uneasy to feel Dewey curl into him like he was scared to look anywhere. He relaxed a slight bit once they were in the plane, but not much.

Deciding the spear wasn’t important at the moment, Launchpad took it and tossed it somewhere. Mr. McD would probably take care of it whenever he got back. “Wait,” Dewey protested, “The spear-”

“I don’t think you need a spear,” Launchpad put Dewey down in the pilot’s seat, “I think you need to sit there for a minute.”

Launchpad could admit that he wasn’t very good at adventuring. Crashing? Yes. Piloting? Debatable. But one thing he did know how to do was use a first aid kit. When you ran into things as much as he did, you learned to patch yourself up.

Dewey cleared his throat when he saw Launchpad pull out the red box. “Launchpad, you really don’t have to-”

“I think I kinda do actually.” Launchpad sat in the co-pilot’s seat and opened the first aid kit. “What happened out there anyway? You look like you got hit by… something.”

“Oh, you know, just normal adventure stuff.” Dewey held out his left arm when Launchpad motioned for it. “Crazy people in the woods wanted a sacrifice and I was the easiest target.”

Launchpad hummed thoughtfully while he worked. “Did you escape on your own?”

“Yeah, nobody had found me yet.” Dewey shrugged. “Que the chase scene, blah blah blah, I feel down a hill and now I’m here.”

“How’d you get the spear if they were all chasing you?”

Dewey hesitated. “They may have… you know, thrown it. At me.”

Launchpad laughed as he finished bandaging Dewey’s arm. “Wow! And Mr. McD said that the spear never missed. Lucky you, huh?”

“It didn’t miss, Launchpad.” Dewey lifted the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. “Huey would probably have a heart attack if he saw this, but it was dark and I don’t really know how-” He winced as he untied the blue cloth around his torso. “Anyway, they threw the spear at me but I ducked and it ended up sticking in a wooden post.

“And I probably should’ve left it there,” Dewey said as he let the shredded remnants of his shirt fall to the floor. “But I wasn’t really thinking, so I pulled it out. I fell down a hill and uh… well, the spear never misses, right?”

Launchpad rummaged through the first aid kit. “I don’t think Huey’s the only one who’s going to have a heart attack.”

Dewey sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, you should have seen your mom. She’s never seen one of you guys be used as a sacrifice before.” Launchpad shook his head. “I bet she’s still freaking out. And Donald too. And Mr. McD and Webby and your brothers and…” He noticed Dewey’s eyes starting to water. “This is… not helping, is it?”

“Reminding me that everyone was worried because I’m useless and can’t take care of myself?” Dewey snapped. “Yeah, no, not helping.” He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “I-I’m sorry, Launchpad, I didn’t mean to get mad.”

“S’okay,” Launchpad said as he bandaged Dewey’s side. “And I don’t think y-” He was interrupted by a pained shout. “Are you-”

Dewey waved him off. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m fine, it… it just hurts.”

“Almost done,” Launchpad promised. Nothing was deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. He wasn’t sure he could do that. Still, it was pretty bad. “As I was saying: I don’t think you’re useless.”

Dewey tentatively touched the bandages over his injured side. “You’re only saying that because you’re my best friend.”

“No, I’m saying it because it’s true.” Launchpad swatted Dewey’s hand away from the new bandage. “And nobody else thinks it either.”

“Launchpad, you can’t know what other people think.”

He shrugged and set to work on Dewey’s shoulder. “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Dewey’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it.”

“And now we’re even.” Launchpad closed up the first aid kit and stood to put it back.

“That isn’t how it works,” Dewey said.

“Why not?” Launchpad asked as he tucked the small box away. “You’re always doing the brave stuff. Bein’ all cool and dangerous. That’s important for adventuring.”

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Everyone does the dangerous stuff. Even Uncle Donald!” He leaned back in the pilot’s seat. “I’m just doing it dumber, and I get into more trouble than I should. I’m not as smart as Huey, Louie, and Webby.”

Launchpad sat back down. “That’s not-”

“Don’t say it’s not true,” Dewey interrupted. “Look at me!” He threw out his arms angrily. “Does this look like a smart adventurer to you?”

“What? Just because you got hurt?” Launchpad asked. “You think Mr. McD got out of every adventure without a scratch? That guy’s almost died more times than I can count, and I haven’t even been working with him for that long.”

Dewey let his arms fall. “I hear what you’re saying, but it… I just-” He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “I still feel like crap.”

“I think it’s okay to feel like crap sometimes,” Launchpad said. “If it makes you feel any better, you just brought back a spear that Mr. McD has been trying to track down for years. I’m only here because he thought he might need the extra muscle, but you did it all by yourself.”

“I mean…” Dewey peered between his hands at the spear Launchpad had tossed aside. “I… yeah. I did do that.” The barest trace of a smile appeared. “Guess that was pretty cool, huh?”

“Definitely cool,” Launchpad agreed. “And you can tell your brothers how cool you are when they get back.”

Dewey nodded slowly. “That is kind of my thing, isn’t it? Being all cool and dangerous and stuff.” He looked up at Launchpad. “Thanks.”

Launchpad reached over and ruffled Dewey’s hair. “That’s what friends are for. Friends are also for hugs. Do you want a hug?” Dewey nodded, and Launchpad scooped him up for the second time that day.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but it was long enough for Dewey to finally–finally–stop trembling like a leaf in a storm. Even then, neither party seemed keen on letting go.

It wasn’t until after Dewey had fallen asleep that Launchpad remembered that the radio in the plane was connected to the walkie-talkies everyone else was carrying. He wished he had remembered it sooner, but better late than never.

“Launchpad to uh… everyone. Can you guys hear me?”

“Aye, we can hear ye. What’re you doin’ on th’ line?”

“Hi Launchpad!”

“Loud and clear on our end.”

“Dewey made it back to the plane,” he told them. “And he got the spear, too.”

“Wait, really?”

“Uncle Donald, Launchpad found Dewey!”

“Uuuugh, we did all this work for nothing.”

“We’re on our way back, lad. Don’t let that nephew of mine go runnin’ off again.”

Launchpad glanced down at Dewey. “Well, he’s actually asleep, so I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Asleep? Why is he asleep?”

“Long day,” Launchpad said. “I’ll explain once everyone gets back.”

#look #i refuse to believe the boys escape every adventure #without so much as a scratch #sometimes things suck #and sometimes it sucks a little more than it should #this is the reason i exist #A N G S T #ducktales 2017

31 notes · View notes

cerradofolc · 4 years

Text

This is the story where word 'cyberpunk' appears first time ever.

First published in AMAZING Science Fiction Stories, Volume 57, Number 4, November 1983

* * *

The snoozer went off at seven and I was out of my sleepsack, powered up, and on-line in nanos. That's as far as I got. Soon I booted and got -

CRACKERS/BUDDYBOO/8ER

on the tube I shut down fast. Damn! Rayno had been on line before me, like always, and that message meant somebody else had gotten into our Net - and that meant trouble by the busload! I couldn't do anything mor on term, so I zipped into my jumper, combed my hair, and went downstairs.

Mom and Dad were at breakfast when I slid into the kitchen. "Good Morning, Mikey!" said Mom with a smile. "You were up so late last night I thought I wouldn't see you before you caught your bus."

"Had a tough program to crack," I said.

"Well," she said, "now you can sit down and have a decent breakfast." She turned around to pull some Sara Lees out of the microwave and plunk them down on the table.

"If you'd do your schoolwork when you're supposed to you wouldn't have to stay up all night," growled Dad from behind his caffix and faxsheet. I sloshed some juice in a glass and poured it down, stuffed a Sara Lee into my mouth, and stood to go.

"What?" asked Mom. "That's all the breakfast you're going to have?"

"Haven't got time," I said. "I gotta get to school early to see if the program checks." Dad growled something more and Mom spoke to quiet him, but I didn't hear much 'cause I was out the door.

I caught the transys for school, just in case they were watching. Two blocks down the line I got off and transferred going back the other way, and a coupla transfers later I wound up whipping into Buddy's All-Night Burgers. Rayno was in our booth, glaring into his caffix. It was 7:55 and I'd beat Georgie and Lisa there.

"What's on line?" I asked as I dropped into my seat, across from Rayno. He just looked up at me through his eyebrows and I knew better than to ask again.

At eight Lisa came in. Lisa is Rayno's girl, or at least she hopes she is. I can see why: Rayno's seventeen - two years older than the rest of us - he wears flash plastic and his hair in The Wedge (Dad blew a chip when I said I wanted my hair cut like that) and he's so cool he won't even touch her, even when she's begging for it. She plunked down in her seat next to Rayno and he didn't blink.

Georgie still wasn't there at 8:05. Rayno checked his watch again, then finally looked up from his caffix. "The compiler's been cracked," he said. Lisa and I both swore. We'd worked up our own little code to keep our Net private. I mean, our Olders would just blow boards if they ever found out what we were really up to. And now somebody'd broken our code.

"Georgie's old man?" I asked.

"Looks that way." I swore again. Georgie and I started the Net by linking our smartterms with some stuff we stored in his old man's home business system. Now my Dad woudln't know an opsys if he crashed on one, but Georgie's old man - he's a greentooth. A tech-type. He'd found one of ours once before and tried to take it apart to see what it did. We'd just skinned out that time.

"Any idea how far in he got?" Lisa asked. Rayno looked through her, at the front door. Georgie'd just come in.

"We're gonna find out," Rayno said.

Georgie was coming in smiling, but when he saw that look in Rayno's eyes he sat down next to me like the seat was booby-trapped.

"Good Morning Georgie," said Rayno, smiling like a shark.

"I didn't glitch!" Georgie whined. "I didn't tell him a thing!"

"Then how the Hell did he do it?"

"You know how he is, he's weird! He likes puzzles!" Georgie looked to me for backup. "That's how come I was late. He was trying to weasel me, but I didn't tell him a thing! I think he only got it partway open. He didn't ask about the Net!"

Rayno actually sat back, pointed at us all, and smiled. "You kids just don't know how lucky you are. I was in the Net last night and flagged somebody who didn't know the secures was poking Georgie's compiler. I made some changes. By the time your old man figures them out, well..."

I sighed relief. See what I mean about being cool? Rayno had us outlooped all the time!

Rayno slammed his fist down on the table. "But Dammit Georgie, you gotta keep a closer watch on him!"

Then Rayno smiled and bought us all drinks and pie all the way around. Lisa had a cherry Coke, and Georgie and I had caffix just like Rayno. God, that stuff tastes awful! The cups were cleared away, and Rayno unzipped his jumper and reached inside.

"Now kids," he said quietly, "it's time for some serious fun." He whipped out his microterm. "School's off!"

I still drop a bit when I see that microterm - Geez, it's a beauty! It's a Zeilemann Nova 300, but we've spent so much time reworking it, it's practically custom from the motherboard up. Hi-baud, rammed, rammed, ported, with the wafer display folds down to about the size of a vid casette; I'd give an ear to have one like it. We'd used Georgie's old man's chipburner to tuck some special tricks in ROM and there wasn't a system in CityNet it couldn't talk to.

Rayno ordered up a smartcab and we piled out of Buddy's. No more riding the transys for us, we were going in style! We charged the smartcab off to some law company and cruised all over Eastside.

Riding the boulevards got stale after awhile, so we rerouted to the library. We do a lot of our fun at the library, 'cause nobody ever bothers us there. Nobody ever goes there. We sent the smartcab, still on the law company account, off to Westside. Getting past the guards and the librarians was just a matter of flashing some ID and then we zipped off into the stacks.

Now, you've got to ID away your life to get on the libsys terms - which isn't worth half a scare when your ID is all fudged like ours is - and they watch real careful. But they move their terms around a lot, so they've got ports on line all over the building. We found an unused port, and me and Georgie kept watch while Rayno plugged in his microterm and got on line.

"Get me into the Net," he said, handing me the term. We don't have a stored opsys yet for Netting, so Rayno gives me the fast and tricky jobs.

Through the dataphones I got us out of the libsys and into CityNet. Now, Olders will never understand. They still think a computer has got to be a brain in a single box. I can get the same results with opsys stored in a hundred places, once I tie them together. Nearly every computer has got a dataphone port, CityNet is a great linking system, and Rayno's microterm has the smarts to do the job clean and fast so nobody flags on us. I pulled the compiler out of Georgie's old man's computer and got into our Net. Then I handed the term back to Rayno.

"Well, let's do some fun. Any requests?" Georgie wanted something to get even with his old man, and I had a new routine cooking, but Lisa's eyes lit up 'cause Rayno handed the term to her, first.

"I wanna burn Lewis," she said.

"Oh fritz!" Georgie complained. "You did that last week!"

"Well, he gave me another F on a theme."

"I never get F's. If yu'd read books once in a -"

"Georgie," Rayno said softly, "Lisa's on line." That settled that. Lisa's eyes were absolutely glowing.

Lisa got back into CityNet and charged a couple hundred overdue books to Lewis's libsys account. Then she ordered a complete fax sheet of Encyclopedia Britannica printed out at his office. I got next turn.

Georgie and Lisa kept watch while I accessed. Rayno was looking over my shoulder. "Something new this week?"

"Airline reservations. I was with my Dad two weeks ago when he set up a business trip, and I flagged on maybe getting some fun. I scanned the ticket clerk real careful and picked up the access code."

"Okay, show me what you can do."

Accessing was so easy that I just wiped a couple of reservations first, to see if there were any bells and whistles.

None. No checks, no lockwords, no confirm codes. I erased a couple dozen people without crashing down or locking up. "Geez," I said, "There's no deep secures at all!"

"I been telling you. Olders are even dumber than they look. Georgie? Lisa? C'mon over here and see what we're running!" Georgie was real curious and asked a lot of questions, but Lisa just looked bored and snapped her gum and tried to stand closer to Rayno. Then Rayno said, "Time to get off Sesame Street. Purge a flight."

I did. It was simple as a save. I punched a few keys, entered, and an entire plane disappeared from all the reservation files. Boy, they'd be surprised when they showed up at the airport. I started purging down the line, but Rayno interrupted.

"Maybe there's no bells and whistles, but wipe out a whole block of flights and it'll stand out. Watch this." He took the term from me and cooked up a routine in RAM to do a global and wipe out every flight that departed at an :07 for the next year. "Now that's how you do these things without waving a flag."

"That's sharp," Georgie chipped in, to me. "Mike, you're a genius! Where do you get these ideas?" Rayno got a real funny look in his eyes.

"My turn," Rayno said, exiting the airline system.

"What's next in the stack?" Lisa asked him.

"Yeah, I mean, after garbaging the airlines . . ." Georgie didn't realize he was supposed to shut up.

"Georgie! Mike!" Rayno hissed. "Keep watch!" Soft, he added, "It's time for The Big One."

"You sure?" I asked. "Rayno, I don't think we're ready."

"We're ready."

Georgie got whiney. "We're gonna get in big trouble-"

"Wimp," spat Rayno. Georgie shut up.

We'd been working on The Big One for over two months, but I still didn't feel real solid about it. It almost made a clean if/then/else; if The Big One worked/then we'd be rich/else . . . it was the else I didn't have down.

Georgie and me scanned while Rayno got down to business. He got back into CityNet, called the cracker opsys out of OurNet, and poked it into Merchant's Bank & Trust. I'd gotten into them the hard way, but never messed with their accounts; just did it to see if I could do it. My data'd been sitting in their system for about three weeks now and nobody'd noticed. Rayno thought it would be really funny to use one bank computer to crack the secures on other bank computers.

While he was peeking and poking I heard walking nearby and took a closer look. It was just some old waster looking for a quiet place to sleep. Rayno was finished linking by the time I got back. "Okay kids," he said, "this is it." He looked around to make sure we were all watching him, then held up the term and stabbed the RETURN key. That was it. I stared hard at the display, waiting to see what else was gonna be. Rayno figured it'd take about ninety seconds.

The Big One, y'see, was Rayno's idea. He'd heard about some kids in Sherman Oaks who almost got away with a five million dollar electronic fund transfer; they hadn't hit a hangup moving the five mil around until they tried to dump it into a personal savings account with a $40 balance. That's when all the flags went up.

Rayno's cool; Rayno's smart. We weren't going to be greedy, we were just going to EFT fifty K. And it wasn't going to look real strang, 'cause it got strained through some legitimate accounts before we used it to open twenty dummies.

If it worked.

The display blanked, flickered, and showed:

TRANSACTION COMPLETED. HAVE A NICE DAY.

I started to shout, but remembered I was in a library. Georgie looked less terrified. Lisa looked like she was going to attack Rayno. Rayno just cracked his little half smile, and started exiting. "Funtime's over, kids."

"I didn't get a turn," Georgie mumbled.

Rayno was out of all the nets and powering down. He turned, slow, and looked at Georgie through those eyebrows of his. "You are still on The List."

Georgie swallowed it 'cause there was nothing else he could do. Rayno folded up the microterm and tucked it back inside his jumper.

We got a smartcab outside the library and went off to someplace Lisa picked for lunch. Georgie got this idea about garbaging up the smartcab's brain so that the next customer would have a real state fair ride, but Rayno wouldn't let him do it. Rayno didn't talk to him during lunch, either.

After lunch I talked them into heading up to Martin's Micros. That's one of my favorite places to hang out. Martin's the only Older I know who can really work a computer without blowing out his headchips, and he never talks down to me, and he never tells me to keep my hands off anything. In fact, Martin's been real happy to see all of us, ever since Rayno bought that $3000 vidgraphics art animation package for Lisas birthday.

Martin was sitting at his term when we came in. "Oh, hi Mike! Rayno! Lisa! Georgie!" We all nodded. "Nice to see you again. What can I do for you today?"

"Just looking," Rayno said.

"Well, that's free." Martin turned back to his term and punched a few more IN keys. "Damn!" he said to the term.

"What's the problem?" Lisa asked.

"The problem is me," Martin said. "I got this software package I'm supposed to be writing, but it keeps bombing out and I don't know what's wrong."

Rayno asked, "What's it supposed to do?"

"Oh, it's a real estate system. Y'know, the whoe future-values-in-current-dollars bit. Depreciation, inflation, amortization, tax credits -"

"Put that in our tang," said. "What numbers crunch?"

Martin started to explain, and Rayno said to me, "This looks like your kind of work." Martin hauled his three hundred pounds of fat out of the chair, and looked relieved as I dropped down in front of the term. I scanned the parameters, looked over Martin's program, and processed a bit. Martin'd only made a few mistakes. Anybody could have. I dumped Martin's program and started loading the right one in off the top of my head.

"Will you look at that?" Martin said.

I didn't answer 'cause I was thinking in assembly. In ten minutes I had it in, compiled, and running test sets. It worked perfect, of course.

"I just can't believe you kids," Martin said. "You can program easier than I can talk."

"Nothing to it" I said.

"Maybe not for you. I knew a kid grew up speaking Arabic, used to say the same thing." He shook his head, tugged his beard, looked me in the face, and smiled. "Anyhow, thanks loads, Mike. I don't know how to . . ." He snapped his fingers. "Say, I just got something in the other day, I bet you'd be really interested in." He took me over to the display case, pulled it out, and set it on the counter. "The latest word in microterms. The Zeilemann Starfire 600."

I dropped a bit! Then I ballsed up enough to touch it. I flipped up the wafer display, ran my fingers over the touch pads, and I just wanted it so bad! "It's smart," Martin said. "Rammed, rammed, and ported."

Rayno was looking at the specs with that cold look in his eye. "My 300 is still faster," he said.

"It should be," Martin said. "You customized it half to death. But the 600 is nearly as fast, and it's stock, and it lists for $1400. I figure you must have spent nearly 3K upgrading yours."

"Can I try it out?" I asked. Martin plugged me into his system, and I booted and got on line. It worked great! Quiet, accurate; so maybe it wasn't as fast as Rayno's - I couldn't tell the difference. "Rayno, this thing is the max!" I looked at Martin. "Can we work out some kind of...?" Martin looked back to his terminal, where the real estate program was still running tests without a glitch.

"I been thinking about that, Mike. You're a minor, so I can't legally employ you." He tugged on his beard and rolled his tongue around his mouth. "But I'm hitting that real estate client for some pretty heavy bread on consulting fees, and it doesn't seem real fair to me that you... Tell you what. Maybe I can't hire you, but I sure can buy software you write. You be my consultant on, oh . . . seven more projects like this, and we'll call it a deal? Sound okay to you?"

Before I could shout yes, Rayno pushed in between me and Martin. "I'll buy it. List." He pulled out a charge card from his jumper pocket. Martin's jaw dropped. "Well, what're you waiting for? My plastic's good."

"List? But I owe Mike one," Martin protested.

"List. You don't owe us nothing."

Martin swallowed. "Okay Rayno." He took the card and ran a credcheck on it. "It's clean," Martin said, surprised. He punched up the sale and started laughing. "I don't know where you kids get this kind of money!"

"We rob banks," Rayno said. Martin laughed, and Rayno laughed, and we all laughed. Rayno picked up the term and walked out of the store. As soon as we got outside he handed it to me.

"Thanks Rayno, but . . . but I coulda made the deal myself."

"Happy Birthday, Mike."

"Rayno, my birthday is in August."

"Let's get one thing straight. You work for me."

It was near school endtime, so we routed back to Buddy's. On the way, in the smartcab, Georgie took my Starfire, gently opened the case, and scanned the boards. "We could double the baud speed real easy."

"Leave it stock," Rayno said.

We split up at Buddy's, and I took the transys home. I was lucky, 'cause Mom and Dad weren't home and I could zip right upstairs and hide the Starfire in my closet. I wish I had cool parents like Rayno does. They never ask him any dumb questions.

Mom came home at her usual time, and asked how school was. I didn't have to say much, 'cause just then the stove said dinner was ready and she started setting the table. Dad came in five minutes later and we started eating.

We got the phone call halfway through dinner. I was the one who jumped up and answered it. It was Georgie's old man, and he wanted to talk to my Dad. I gave him the phone and tried to overhear, but he took it in the next room and talked real quiet. I got unhungry. I never liked tofu, anyway.

Dad didn't stay quiet for long. "He what?! Well thank you for telling me! I'm going to get to the bottom of this right now!" He hung up.

"Who was that, David?" Mom asked.

"That was Mr. Hansen. Georgie's father. Mike and Georgie were hanging around with that punk Rayno again!" He snapped around to look at me. I'd almost made it out the kitchen door. "Michael! Were you in school today?"

I tried to talk cool. I think the tofu had my throat all clogged up. "Yeah...yeah, I was."

"Then how come Mr. Hansen saw you coming out of the downtown library?"

I was stuck. "I - I was down there doing some special research."

"For what class? C'mon Michael, what were you studying?"

It was too many inputs. I was locking up.

"David," Mom said, "Aren't you being a bit hasty? I'm sure there's a good explanation."

"Martha, Mr. Hansen found something in his computer that Georgie and Michael put there. He thinks they've been messing with banks."

"Our Mikey? It must be some kind of bad joke."

"You don't know how serious this is! Michael Arthur Harris! What have you been doing sitting up all night with that terminal? What was that system in Hansen's computer? Answer me! What have you been doing?!" My eyes felt hot. "None of your business! Keep your nose out of things you'll never understand, you obsolete old relic!"

"That does it! I don't know what's wrong with you damn kids, but I know that thing isn't helping!" He stormed up to my room. I tried to get ahead of him all the way up the steps and just got my hands stepped on. Mom came fluttering up behind as he yanked all the plugs on my terminal.

"Now David," Mom said. "Don't you think you're being a bit harsh? He needs that for his homework, don't you, Mikey?"

"You can't make excuses for him this time, Martha! I mean it! This goes in the basement, and tomorrow I'm calling the cable company and getting his line ripped out! If he has anything to do on computer he can damn well use the terminal in the den, where I can watch him!" He stomped out, carrying my smartterm. I slammed the door and locked it. "Go ahead and sulk! It won't do you any good!"

I threw some pillows around 'til I didn't feel like breaking anything anymore, then I hauled the Starfire out of the closet. I'd watched over Dad's shoulders enough to know his account numbers and access codes, so I got on line and got down to business. I was finished in half an hour.

I tied into Dad's terminal. He was using it, like I figured he would be, scanning school records. Fine. He wouldn't find out anything; we'd figured out how to fix school records months ago. I crashed in and gave him a new message on his vid display.

"Dad," it said, "there's going to be some changes around here."

It took a few seconds to sink in. I got up and made sure the door was locked real solid. I still got half a scare when he came pounding up the stairs, though. I didn't know he could be so loud.

"MICHAEL!!" He slammed into the door. "Open this! Now!"

"No."

"If you don't open this door before I count to ten, I'm going to bust it down! One!"

"Before you do that-"

"Two!"

"Better call your bank!"

"Three!"

"B320-5127-OlR." That was his checking account access code. He silenced a couple seconds.

"Young man, I don't know what you think you're trying to pull-"

"I'm not trying anything. I did it already."

Mom came up the stairs and said, "What's going on, David?" "Shut up, Martha!" He was talking real quiet, now. "What did you do, Michael?"

"Outlooped you. Disappeared you. Buried you."

"You mean, you got into the bank computer and erased my checking account?"

"Savings and mortgage on the condo, too."

"Oh my God . . ."

Mom said, "He's just angry, David. Give him time to cool off. Mikey, you wouldn't really do that, would you?"

"Then I accessed DynaRand," I said.

"Wiped your job. Your pension. I got to your plastic, too."

"He couldn't have, David. Could he?"

"Michael!" He hit the door. "I'm going to wring your scrawny neck!"

"Wait!" I shouted back. "I copied all your files before I purged! There's a way to recover!"

He let up hammering on the door, and struggled to talk calm. "Give me the copies right now and I'll just forget that this happened."

"I can't. I mean, I did backups in other computers. And I secured the files and hid them where only I know how to access."

There was quiet. No, in a nano I realised it wasn't quiet, it was Mom and Dad talking real soft. I eared up to the door but all I caught was Mom saying "why not?" and Dad saying "but what if he is telling the truth?"

"Okay Michael, Dad said at last. "What do you want?"

I locked up. It was an embarasser; what did I want? I hadn't thought that far ahead. Me, caught without a program! I dropped half a laugh, then tried to think. I mean, there was nothing they could get me I couldn't get myself, or with Rayno's help. Rayno! I wanted to get in touch with him, is what I wanted. I'd pulled this whole thing off without Rayno!

I decided then it'd probably be better if my Olders dind't know about the Starfire, so I told Dad first thing I wanted was my smartterm back. It took a long time for him to clump down to the basement and get it. He stopped at his term in the den, first, to scan if I'd really purged him. He was real subdued when he brought my smartterm back up.

I kept processing, but by the time he got back I still hadn't come up with anything more than I wanted them to leave me alone and stop telling me what to do. I got the smartterm into my room without being pulped, locked the door, got on line, and gave Dad his job back. Then I tried to flag Rayno and Georgie, but couldn't, so I left messages for when they booted. I stayed up half the night playing a war, just to make sure Dad didn't try anything.

I booted and scanned first thing the next morning, but Rayno and Georgie still hadn't come on. So I went down and had an utter silent breakfast and sent Mom and Dad off to work. I offed school and spent the whole day finishing the war and working on some tricks and treats programs. We had another utter silent meal when Mom and Dad came home, and after supper I flagged Rayno had been in the Net and left a remark on when to find him.

I finally got him on line around eight, and he said Georgie was getting trashed and probably heading for permanent downtime.

Then I told Rayno all about how I outlooped my old man, but he didn't seem real buzzed about it. He said he had something cooking and couldn't meet me at Buddy's that night to talk about it, either. So we got off line, and I started another war and then went to sleep.

The snoozer said 5:25 when I woke up, and I coudln't logic how come I was awake 'til I started making sense out of my ears. Dad was taking apart the hinges on my door!

"Dad! You cut that out or I'll purge you clean! There won't be backups this time!"

"Try it," he growled.

I jumped out of my sleepsack, powered up, booted and - no boot. I tried again. I could get on line in my smartterm, but I couldn't port out. "I cut your cable down in the basement," he said.

I grabbed the Starfire out of my closet and zipped it inside my jumper, but before I could do the window, the door and Dad both fell in. Mom came in right behind, popped open my dresser, and started stuffing socks and underwear in a suitcase.

"Now you're fritzed!" I told Dad. "I'll never give you back your files!" He grabbed my arm.

"Michael, there's something I think you should see." He dragged me down to his den and pulled some bundles of old paper trash out of his desk. "These are receipts. This is what obsolete old relics like me use because we don't trust computer bookkeeping. I checked with work and the bank; everything that goes on in the computer has to be verified with paper. You can't change anything for more than 24 hours."

"Twenty-four hours?" I laughed. "Then you're still fritzed! I can still wipe you out any day, from any term in CityNet?"

"I know."

Mom came into the den, carrying the suitcase and kleenexing her eyes. "Mikey, you've got to understand that we love you, and this is for your own good." They dragged me down to the airport and stuffed me in a private lear with a bunch of old gestapos.

I've had a few weeks now to get used to the Von Schlager Military Academy. They tell me I'm a bright kid and with good behavior, there's really no reason at all why I shouldn't graduate in five years. I am getting tired, though, of all the older cadets telling me how soft I've got it now that they've installed indoor plumbing.

Of course, I'm free to walk out any time I want. It's only three hundred miles to Fort McKenzie, where the road ends.

Sometimes at night, after lights out, I'll pull out my Starfire and run my fingers over the touchpads. That's all I can do, since they turn off power in the barracks at night. I'll lie there in the dark, thinking about Lisa, and Georgie, and Buddy's All-Night Burgers, and all the fun we used to pull off. But mostly I'll think about Rayno, and what great plans he cooks up.

I can't wait to see how he gets me out of this one.

Brought to you by The Cyberpunk Project

Page last modified on Monday, October 2, 2000.

#cyberpunk.ru #cyberpunk #Bruce Bethke #dystopia

3 notes · View notes

fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry · 4 years

Text

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 09

Warning: swearing (as always), BJ being horny, fire hazard.

The next day was monday, and every monday night since the girls moved together years ago was movienight. They prepared dinner together, bought a shitton of snacks, sat down on the floor in the living room and watched at least 2 movies. Most of the time they fell asleep during the third one.

So they were all in their kitchen, which had pretty peach-colored walls, a big window framed by curtains with various embroidered wildflowers on them, and olive green / beige french country-style kitchen furniture. Rei was making guacamole - which Sirius made quite a hard activity with all the jumping and whining for a piece of chips or basically anything delicious - while Sofía was talking about her business dinner from last night and Ari was sitting on the countertop, in the middle of the kitchen, eating Nutella out of a jar with a skull-shaped spoon. Minerva was laying beside her on her back, playing with a piece of breadcrust, getting occasional earscratchies.

- So I was like "No go amigo, I couldn't possibly share an exhibition with them" and my manager was like "why?" and I was like "because I'd have to be talkative and cute with them and man I couldn't" and he was like "but they are respected artists in the community" and I was like "yeah but they can't even use photoshop MICHAEL how could I work with people who are sooo past century"? - said Sofía, flipped her hair and took a sip out of her lemonade. - So yeah, he arranged the whole thing and now my coworkers for the next couple exhibitions will be not so known, but rising photographers instead of old people, isn't that awesome? - all of a sudden Minerva lifted her head up, pricked her ears and started to hiss in the entrance's direction.

Beetlejuice just arrived after his hunt for bugs in the winter garden. He was leaning against the entrance archway, and shaked his head in disappointment.

- I can't believe that you still hate me this much, you waste of fur. - the cat hissed harder. - What?!? Two can play this game, if you're not nice, I won't be either! - he pointed at Sirius, who let out one bark, then continued harassing Rei. - Look, even the dog got kinda used to me!

- I wonder what her problem is. - said Sofía while Ari pulled the kitty into her embrace.

- That's the point where you should tell them that "yeah she sees my demon buddy, yeah, we have a spectre, and I can hear him!" - said Beetlejuice in a girlish voice while he stepped closer to Ari. The girl stroked the slightly hissing Minerva, who was now laying on her lap. Ari licked her Nutella-covered spoon clean. Beetlejuice stopped in his movement and his jaw slightly dropped. He started to drool a bit. - Hooooly shit babes, it seems like you know how to turn my software into a hardware!

Ari blushed a bit and tried really hard not to giggle so she started to talk.

- ANYWAY... - that was way louder than she intended, so she cleared her throat - ...what did you do last night, Rei? - knowing exactly what happened to her poor sister (since after she got better, Beetlejuice told her everything), she was just curious if she would talk about the posession of her computer. Rei's ginger hair flew over her face as she turned to Ari and put the guacamole down to the countertop.

- Well you could say I was practicing poetry, since Robert Lewis Stevenson insisted that wine is bottled poetry, but to be honest after streaming I was just drinking and wondering what I wanted to be when I grew up... I'm sure it wasn't an anxiety ridden bitch disgusted by people with a wine problem, serving exactly those whom I disgusted by, but... - she put her hands up in the air - ...here I am! - she giggled as she turned to the fridge.

- So I suppose your "fans" were mean again? - asked Sof. Rei took some cheese out of the fridge, and scoffed while giving a piece to the very excited Sirius.

- Not mean, fuckin nasty. - she shut the fridge and rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. - I mean, some of them spammed my IG DMs with requests of "please send me the bra you wore during today's stream, I saw the strap and I'm hooked", like... Ugh.

- Can't judge a man for wanting some lingerie from a pretty girl, that's my opinion. - said Beetlejuice while he hopped on the counter next to Rei.

- Jesus fuck people are weird... - commented Ari as she got off of the middle countertop. Minerva ran away to upstairs.

- Oh so that's the socially acceptable opinion now? Okay wait... - Beetlejuice cleared his throat and continued in a sarcastic manner, heavily gesturing while doing so. - OH YES PEOPLE ARE AWFUL UGH DISGUSTING EW HOW COULD SOMEONE ASK ANYTHING LIKE THAT EWEWEW. - his voice went back to normal as he looked at Ari, who just hugged Rei. - Was it good and totally believable? - Ari smiled and gave him a thumbs up behind her sister's back. - God I'm good! On the other hand, did I tell you that when I walked into Rei's room yesterday, I almost tripped on a bra? You could say... - he floated next to Ari's ear. The girl could feel his icy breath on her earlobe. - ...it was a booby trap. - Ari shut her eyes and bit her lower lip while smiling widely. - SERIOUSLY HOW ARE YOU NOT LAUGHING YOUR PRETTY ROUND ASS OFF, THAT WAS PHENOMENAL!!! - Ari let Rei go and went to one of the cupboards. Rei poured herself a glass of red wine.

- I don't even know why I'm getting upset by these kinds of shits anymore. I've been doing this job for years, I should be used to creeps. - she shrugged. - Eh, whatever, it felt nice to vent.

- And we're here to listen every time! - shouted Ari, head inside one of the lower cupboards, fistbumping the air. After some rummaging, she lifted her head out. - Hey guys, where did we put the ultimate bathbomb?

- What? - asked Sofía with a tilted head.

- The toaster. Obviously. - BJ slapped his knees as he started laughing.

- Gee, doll, that was good! Your humor is getting worse and worse under my influence and I'm living for it! - he scratched his head. - Wait, is that appropriate for me to say? Or should I say I'm dying for it? Since I'm dead? - he shrugged his shoulders. - I dunno both sound good.

After Sof got the machine out of one of the highest cupboards, Ari started making grilled cheese sandwiches. Beetlejuice floated right next to her and flashed a pretty evil, toothy grin. He wriggled his fingers while looking up at the ceiling lamp, which started to flicker. The girls quickly looked at each other but didn't say a thing. BJ giggled. Ari stuck the toaster's plug into the power outlet, which instantly made it sparkle. One of the sparkles fell on Ari's hand. She quickly got it away with a quiet "ouch", and looked at where Beetlejuice's very uproarious laugh came from. The angry face she made almost made the demon tear up.

- What? You thought I'd never mess with ya, doll? After seeing this face, I'll do it even more often, you angry little toddler you... - and with that, the lights flickered again.

- Am I hallucinating or did ya see that too? - asked Sofi, pointing at the lamp.

- Maybe it's just bad wiring... - said Rei, with a rather nervous chuckle. She didn't sound believable at all. - It's nothing to worry about...

- Oh so you think I'm nothing to worry about?! - said Beetlejuice with annoyement in his voice. - You underestimate me, little one. - he pointed at the chandelier in the living room and the lamp in the kitchen. They both started to shine and flicker in the same rhythm. The girls looked at each other.

- I'm pretty sure that's not bad wiring... I think... - one of the light bulbs in the living room shattered, stopping Ari for a moment. They all ducked as the light bulb in the kitchen exploded. - I THINK THIS HOUSE REALLY IS HAUNTED!!!

- THANK YOU! FINALLY! - shouted Beetlejuice, his eyes and his neon green hair glowing. - I'M FINALLY GETTING THE RECOGNITION I DESERVE!

- IT'S NOT, GHOSTS ARE NOT REAL! - shouted Rei, while trying to help Ari get hold of the angrily barking Sirius.

- It's scientifically proven that they are... - commented Sof.

- Shut up, I'm not superstitious like you two! I mean sure, weird things are happening in the house, like my PC acting strange, or the hairdryer sucking Sofi's hair in, but I'm sure there's a logical explanation!

Beetlejuice grinned like a maniac.

- Oh baby you really want logical explanation? You think there's any logic to ME? Then watch... This! - the demon cracked his fingers and chuckled as he looked at the plugged in toaster. Ari looked at the voice's direction and gasped when she saw what Beetlejuice was doing. The toaster's heating wires were glowing red hot, and an awful stench came from the machine. The smell of burning plastic.

- OH FUCKIN HELL!!!

- Who doesn't like a bit of electrical fire? - said Beetlejuice, laughing, looking at the infurious Sof. Ari quickly jumped up and started to go through the drawers quickly. Sof was quicker, she handed her the oven mittens, which Ari put her hands into and lifted the now flaming toaster.

- Okay... Now what? - Rei jumped up in panic too.

- What what?!?

- Where do I put it?!

- ARIADNÉ, YOU JUST LIFTED THIS FLAMING SHIT UP WITHOUT A PLAN?!?!?!?!

- I'M NOT A VERY BRIGHT WOMAN, OKAY?!?!?!? - Rei opened up the window and pulled the curtains back.

- THROW IT OUT!!! - Ari quickly threw the machine out of the window, into the birdbath that was under it. The flames started to fade and the girls let out a huge, relieved breath.

- Welp... I may sound like a hypocrite but... After this I think we're haunted. - Sofía and Ari both looked at Rei.

- You said, literally a minute ago, and I quote, that you are not superstitious like us two. - Rei threw her hands up in the air.

- I'm not superstitious! But I'm a... Umm a little bit stitious.

- Do you seriously think this is a right time for Office quotes? - asked Sof, with folded hands and an eyeroll.

- Hey this is how I cope! Toasters don't start spitting flames normally, man! That shit scared the living Hell out of me!

Ari bit her lower lip. A faint idea crossed her mind.

- Ummm... I think we should ask our presence what do they want. - the girls and Beetlejuice both looked at Ari with lifted eyebrows. - Sof, don't you have an Ouija board? We could ask them stuff and maybe help them out. So they won't cause trouble like this again. - Beetlejuice covered his smiling mouth with his hands.

- OHMYGOD BABES THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! I never tried playing with those things but...

- Okay let's do it. - stated Rei decidedly. - Sofía! Get your Ouija board. We're adjourning movienight. Let's ask this bitch what the everliving fuck is their problem!

#alex brightman #beetlegeuse #beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice oc #beetlejuice the musical #fanfic #fanfiction #lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth #musical!beetlejuice #beetlejuice broadway

7 notes · View notes

hpdabbles · 5 years

Text

How to Break a Timeline Part 2

Being married to Harry was nothing like he expected marriage to be. Granted as a Black, Regulus knew his definition of marriage wasn’t the same as common folk. Most of the marriages in his family were of convenience rather than love (like his parents) but a few did bloom from emotions such as Cousin Narcissa to Malfoy last summer.

Still, he didn’t think one’s husband should be this determined to make him a widower not ever three days since the ink dried on their marriage certificate.

“Harry are you sure we have to do this?” Regulus asks wearily standing before Gringotts. His husband, now properly dressed in fine robes, smiled at him bashfully. If he hadn’t been wearing that same expression when the taller male had to force the muggle-raised fool into changing his outfits then Regulus would have thought him harmless.

“We need to the cup,” Harry says looping his arm into the curve of Regulus’ own and then quickly planting a peck on his cheek not the bit shy about public display of affection. He took this chance to whisper in his ear “Don’t worry. I can get us past the dragon. We’ll be fine.”

Oh yes, lets rob Gringotts. Nothing will go wrong. It’s all in the name of stopping the Dark Lord Regulus felt like throwing up.

Around them, people were gaping at the couple who seem to be whispering sweet nothings to each other-er well one look ecstatic and the other anxious. This is the first time they’ve seen the couple but they been the talk of the British Wizardly world for the past two days.

Everyone is aware that the Black Heir had been recently been proclaim as Black Family Head.

This change was noted at the last Wizengamot, where Orion’s name had replaced by Regulus’ mid-meeting. This wouldn’t be such a big deal but seeing as his father has not yet died the only way for him to inherit the Black Seat was if he got married.

Which he did. He just didn’t tell anyone when or whom he married. This was a scandal in and of itself but with the war going on the public needed something to focus on, anything to take their minds off the death and terror.

Thus, the shotgun marriage has been fully blown out of proportion.

Merlin, Regulus didn’t want to think about his father’s reaction. The man had been sitting in the chair when the inscription change right above his head. His son had gotten married and he wasn’t present for it, he was just as confused as everyone else.

The reason he hasn’t been sent a howler is that Harry’s tent is charmed with so much protection charms, wards and muggle booby traps it was nearly as protected as Regulus’ ancestral home.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, with such determination it sounded as if he was stepping into battle. They kind of were and he wondered not for the first time why his life turned out like this.

It’s only been three days!

Leading the two into the bank, Regulus wondered if he was aware of the reporter following them, her eyes gleaming with greed. Probably not. Harry isn’t from the world of aristocrats, he wasn’t worried about how his behavior would reflect on his family name so he didn’t keep an eye on his surroundings at all times.

(Regulus had learned to behave from a young age not allowing himself to be distracted in public. One could get kidnapped, or someone could take his words/actions out of content and risk the standing of the Blacks)

“Excuse me, Lord Black” The reporter called her voice carrying over the chatter of the bank. Harry’s steps wavered, turning his head in her direction which was his first mistake. He practically gave her permission to speak to them.

She jumped on the opportunity like a Niffer on gold. “I was wondering if I could ask a few questions.”

“Actually we don’t have time-” His husband started

“Just a few questions. Won’t take too long.” She spoke over Harry, snapping her fingers. A Quick-Quote-Quill rose into the air on her parchment, ready to do its job. Harry eyed the quill with great dismay as if though he feared it.

Regulus didn’t know why but he wasn’t about to let this woman bully his savior. For all of Harry’s oddness, and great lack of self-preservation he was a decent person and kind. Besides, the man was his husband now which meant he was in the House of Black, and no one attacked the House of Black.

“No.” He steps in front of the shorter male effectively blocking him from view. “We are needed elsewhere and do not have time for questions.”

His gaze flickered to the Quill that was quickly writing, his eyes narrowing “I will, of course, be confiscating what you have written about us as we did not give permission for you to cover us. We would not want to bring our lawyer into this would we?”

The woman’s lips pressed together. “Of course not Lord Black, of course not.”

She handed them the piece of parchment and he promptly tore it in half, twisting on his heel to take the gapping Harry to a teller. He pretended not to notice the rest of the lobby that was staring at him, only half aware of a hand holding onto his arm.

“That was cool” Harry whispered sounding slightly awe. “That was really cool”

Regulus felt smug that he made this impossible man feel impressed by him....for a total of thirty minutes. Seeing as his husband managed to not only find but break the Hufflepuff cup by hissing at the dragon guarding the vault. The goblin had left them alone upon Regulus' request, under the guidance of showing his new partner the family vaults.

As soon as the creature had left Harry snuck out to find what he was looking for. He came across the dragon who the Black thought was about to eat them alive until Harry started hissing and the thing had calm, letting them pass without so much as a twitch.

“You speak to dragons?!” He demands inside of Cousin Bellatrix’s vault.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Harry says watching the cup scream as it burned with a classless wave of his hand as if dismissing all of the worries away.

“I’m being ridiculous!?” Regulus repeats almost hysterical. “You speak to dragons! When were you thinking of telling me this!?”

Harry put out the spellfire and kicked the no useless metal away. “I wasn’t trying to hide it you know. Besides, I don’t speak to dragons, I speak to snakes which are close enough to get my point across.”

“You’re a Parselmouth?!”

Harry’s green eyes gleam in the shine of gold around them “Is that a problem?”

Regulus thinks this man is going to make his heart stop early from stress but he managed to get his breathing under control only now realizing it was running wild. He’s going to lose his mind before the month was up he knew it.

“Of course not, I just rather know these things before you do them. It would be helpful to be included in whatever hair brain ideas you develop. Not go through these dramatic means, I could have gotten us into this vault without having to chance a dragon understanding what your point is!” he snaps

Harry blinks “You could have? How?”

“Cousin Bellatrix isn’t married yet. She’s still a Black and by law, all Black vaults are within my right to enter as the Head.” Regulus huffs, then seeing the naked confusion on Harry’s face he sighs “Do you not know anything about wizarding culture?”

“Not really.”

Regulus stares. Is...Is Harry a Mudblood? It would make sense of everyhting he’s learn about him but he’s too powerful to be a magic stealer...wasn’t he?

________________________________________________________________

The ride back to the front was a silent, Harry not one to make too much noise unless adress or in his friends presence and Regulus absentmindly carelessly the spot where the Dark Mark used to be.

He hadn’t spoken since Harry admitted to not being well informed of the wizarding world as he should be. (The fact there were laws stopping people from reporting on him was one of them. If only he had known this back in fourth year.)

He never knew silence could be this loud.

Harry wondered what was going on in his husband’s head. For the last three days, he’s been actively trying to remind himself that he went and done it. He’s gotten hitched without his friends or family. To a man, he barely knows, in a time where he doesn’t exist and while trying to take down Riddle all over again.

What would Ron say if he saw him now?

Sighing Harry, tried to push that thought away because he’ll start to cry and he can’t afford that right now.

Instead, he thinks about what Regulus said. Indeed, Harry hadn’t told him everything he planned on doing to beat Riddle once and for all, but that’s because he wasn’t overly sure he could.

Yes, he trusted the other didn’t want to be a Death Eater anymore and had even gone through the very very painful Dark Mark removal but was that enough to spill everything that could end this war? No.

On the other hand, if he had been aware Regulus could have gotten to the cup without a single problem. It made sense now why the curse that turns everything red hot hadn’t triggered this time around, the spell was meant to act against those that did not have permission to be there, and apparently, his new husband did have it.

Would it be easier if he included him more in the plans? This is Regulus' time, he knows more about what to do, who to avoid and apparently knew his laws well enough to aid him. Plus, he is smart, maybe on par with Hermione and Harry knew he couldn’t have beaten old Voldy alone the last time.

They climbed out of the cart, Regulus’ back straight and slightly tense in front of him. They were the same age right now, with Harry being only three months older (if one didn’t count the time travel) but the other beat him in hight. Not by much, maybe only a few inches at the most, but still make it hard to see over his shoulder. This is the first time he walks in front of Harry instead of beside him, and it makes his stomach twist with anxious uncertainty.

Harry thinks he’s upset about not being told of the plan still, and while logically he knows its a sound move, the green eye time traveler hates that he’s disappointed him. He’s always hated letting people down.

Dumbledore made sure of that.

“Um, Regulus-”

“Well, well, well, fancy running into you here.” A voice cuts whatever he was going to say. Before him Regulus’ tense back coils further. “Heard you got yourself married, Reggie. Does Sirius know?”

“My brother has nothing to do with me, Potter.” Regulus answers and Harry feels his breathing stop. Walking around his husband, he’s is meet with a man who looks nearly exactly like him.

He comes face to face with James Potter. Said Potter looks anything but friendly despite the smile curved on his lips. For a second, the green-eyed youth thinks about the James of Snape’s memories and realizes its that version of his father standing before him.

James’ hazel eyes were sharp, taking him in with nearly as much interest as Harry.

“Oh erm, hello,” Harry says awkwardly, heart-squeezing in his chest painfully. “I’m Harry-um-that is-I’m Harry Black. Pleasure.”

James doesn’t take the hand he holds out instead he runs his eyes up and down Harry before smirking.

“Couldn’t take my rejection of your boyhood crush so you found someone who looks like me instead Reggie? Now, that’s just sad.”

Regulus face turns dark. Taking Harry’s hand he attempts to move around the older man. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. That was a boyhood mistake at most. If you excuse us, we have other places we need to be.”

“Is he pregnant?” James asks side-stepping into their path seemingly unwilling to let them go without saying his full piece. “Tsk Tsk. One would expect a member of the pure and Slytherin House of Black to be more careful. Then again, rumors had it you were desperate enough to not care-”

Harry heard enough. He’s temper has never been the easiest to handle but his father- who he’s starting to see less and less as the lost dream of an orphan and more of an ass- just had to get and test his limits. He’s aware male wizards can produce offspring but it’s a rare and nearly impossible feat, not nearly as being a Parselmouth but close enough.

There were enough times, however, that wizards did get accidentally pregnant to warn their children about.

Ron had been the first one to realize Harry wasn’t aware of this fact and had dragged his best friend to a very awkward conversation with Arthur Weasley sometime around third year.

His best friend knew due to Harry’s upbringing, this part of the magical world was a little out there for him to handle and hated when others presume he was the one to carry for those same reasons.

Said best friend wasn’t here to realize Harry’s temper had snapped and thus couldn’t hold him back either. Which meant Harry was able to react without someone stopping him.

James stumbled back in shock and pain as Harry’s fist collided with his nose, his knuckles crushing the bone. “Shut your whore mouth! Don’t talk to Regulus like that!”

Before the other Potter could react, Harry had grabbed a stun Regulus and pushed him into the lobby. Thanks to the fact James had found them on the way to the carts the only people who had seen him punch the Potter Heir was the goblins who couldn’t care less.

Harry only slowed down long enough to thank the goblins- earning him some odd looks- and soon had them stream rolling out of the bank. In a second he’s Apparition them back to his outer side of his tent.

Just as what he’s done was starting to catch up with him- He punched his dad! He cursed at him! He’s dad, who has been dead up until now and what does Harry do? Attack him!- Regulus lets out a wheezed laugh.

Harry turns around, eyes widening as the Black continues to laugh and laugh, eventually, his chuckles climbing in volume until he’s all but roaring.

This may be the first time I’ve ever heard him laugh Harry thinks slightly daze. A small blush crept onto his head and the beginning of something warm and fuzzy was being planted into his heart.

“Harry, that, was the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Regulus gasps when he finally able to control his chuckles to an appropriate level. “Merlin, you are by far the oddest wizard I have ever meet.”

Harry doesn’t know if that a compliment or not and chooses not to acknowledge it. “You had feelings for that ass?”

“Yes, though I regret it now” Regulus grimace his mood souring. “He is best friends with my idiot older brother. When I was a boy I was unable to see how dislikeable he was. I feel great shame for my younger self.”

Harry smiled “We all make mistakes.”

“Yes. Some more than others.”

Oh? There is a story there. “I reckon he wasn’t the only one you regret having feelings for?”

“Don’t we all?” Regulus rolls his eyes. “Snape wasn’t someone who enjoyed my misguided affection either-”

Cutting himself off his husband seemed to be aware of how loose his tongue had become and instead snapped his mouth shut. He suddenly looked terrified, the panic in his eyes clear as day, studying Harry with horror.

Harry had no idea why. Yes, Regulus could do so much better Severus Snape and gag, the man was his professor, but there wasn’t enough of a reason to look that scared of Harry’s opinion.

“I assure you my interest in the Half-blood were purely lust,” Regulus says suddenly. “I wouldn’t lower the House of Black to impurity with actually flowery affections for someone who’s only half worthy.”

Oh. Oh.

Half worthy? Of course, Regulus had been a Death Eater, and unlike Draco, no one forced him to join now did they?

All humor fell from Harry’s face. To think he was starting to like the guy to, to think he was considering letting him into more of the plan. The seed in his heart was crushed before it could bloom just as quickly as it had been planted from a laugh.

“You disgust me.” He spat turning on his heel, he made for the kitchen wishing there was a door for him to slam as childish as that was.

“What?”

“Just so you know, the House of Black has lost its purity. I’m a Half-blood. I hope I’m worthy enough to have saved your life and marry you.”

Silence rang behind him and Harry wished Ron was here all that more. His best mate would know what to do about the burning of his eyes and the pain in his chest.

But he would never see Ron again, would he? Maybe a younger version of him but never his first and best friend.

For the first time, he wished he hadn't broken the timeline

#hpdabbles #Harry Potter #How to break the time line Au #Part 2 #slight angst #double POV #Slow burn #Pureblood politics #mentions of mpreg #harry x regulus #In which both Harry and Regulus realize they are married to someone they barely know #Also Regulus fucked- up #Wizarding world are a bunch of gossips #Being impresed by your husband #Fights #James is freaking out #Timeline is a mess like Harry

93 notes · View notes