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mademoiselle-cookie · 6 months

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The Green lost

And I have mixed feelings about it.

1. First, good.

In-universe, bc having the good guys teams being eliminated first is so bittersweet and I love this shit. No one is free of sin, everyone did something wrong and fucked-up at some point, but each team has its thing : the Red are the crazy one, the Blue the bad guy one and the Green are the kind one. It's the group who's leader has forbidden to burn stuff bc it's not nice, who chose to help a team even after they destroy their stuff in the most cowardly and spiteful way, who still had principles in this nightmare of an island. They had really strong members with exp in this kind of situations. And they lost. Wonderful.

Out-of-universe, bc whatever shit the admins have in mind, the player can leave now. Etoiles was starting to get tired of Minecraft and it was taking up a lot of his time. Taking a week's break and getting away from the drama will be good for the team (especially Bagi, poor girl got harassed a lot. I love you Bagi)

2. Wasted potential.

If the event was really for pvp, and the team members had been able to be present earlier, the Greens would have been the strongest. And now we will never have the opportunity to see the full extent of their strength and talent.

BUT ABOVE ALL, their team dynamic. The players weren't that used to playing together, so it was an opportunity to see them exchange more, create or explore their relationships more… The creation of a found family is super interesting!

Seeing the friendship between Roier and Etoiles, two fighters who absolutely want to fight but still have honor (what an idea to put them in the same team) with the added dynamic of a knight and his leader to protect (Mario and Peach lol), Forever very intelligent and strategist who calls himself the mother of the team, Elquackity the traitor who did not show his true potential (except when he voluntarily gave victory to the Red on the 2nd day), Ironmouse who had a very touching and interesting moment with Etoiles about their chronic illness… is something I wanted to see develop. And it will never happened.

3. It was a foregone conclusion.

The competition with the punishment of being eliminated for the loser was announced a few hours before said competition. The day when many Green players are normally not there, where the leader and strongest and most present member on the server had another more important event at the same time. You're not going to make me believe that any of the admins didn't know that this tournament existed, or that Etoiles, a Smash player, would ignore it despite its great importance. The competition could have taken place on Saturday instead of shutting down the server, or it could have been closed for another day, or the admins could have warned the players that something important would happen on Sunday so they could have tried to work something out.

I ask everyone watching Green's POV, did you even have hope that they would win? Well not me. I love them, I think they're the best, but I had no illusions. They were going to lose. The tie was impossible, the event would have been pointless otherwise, and the victory too because the clues indicate very clearly that the Blue are the cursed team. The Greens could not, and should not, win.

It sucks to be a Green Team fan.

4. I'm afraid of what's next.

I'm hoping for two scenarios now that the Greens have been "terminated":

They die and players can do other things until the end of the event. That would be great but unlikely. QSMP is not going to exclude several of its players like that, that would be unfair. There aren't that many of them already.

The Greens are sent elsewhere. That would be giga top. This would promise interesting and different content (and perhaps allow players who want blood to obtain satisfaction) in addition to making the threat of Purgatory credible. The players are inaccessible to others - even considered dead - and must suffer because of some thing that the eye has invented.

See my vision: Cellbit mourning his dead husband, while Roier is having the time of his life in whatever hell the Eye send the Green. That will be so perfect.

But that would require a lot of preparation, while the admins are not even sure that the players will stay or that they will like these new changes.

What I really don't want to happen but is very, very likely:

The Greens are redistributed among the other teams. Lost their new team dynamic, lost everything they had started to create, they now have to adapt to a new group, who were once their enemies and who have at one time or another done a nasty deed to them, and fght their former comrades. They will also have to obey a new leader whom they did not elect. You can think what you want about Etoiles but he was chosen, and him as leader allowed a certain dynamic that would not be possible with other people and another leader. And that would ruin the danger and credibility of Purgatory which threatens people's lives and then leaves them alive and in the company of their friends.

Worse, Etoiles ends up on the Red team. First, I want to see them lose (which should happen anyway since they're not the cursed team), and also because I don't trust the Red fanbase with Etoiles at all. Not even with an anti-atomic suit. There's a reason I hate Bolas, and it's not the cc's fault. (One day we'll have to talk about using a character played by an Algerian to be a literal white man's dog)

#can you imagine blue and red teams mourning their dead friends #lost to a nighmarish island who forces them to kill each other #while at the same time Roier and Etoiles are decapitating enemies while singing Disney songs #while the rest are drinking tea prepared by Forever #qsmp #qsmp purgatory #salt #discourse #qsmp etoiles #qsmp roier #qsmp cellbit #green gay ninjas

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ditzydisaster13 · 2 months

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Okay. So I’ve had what I believe, is an epic idea. I don’t do song fics too often, but this was looking like an amazing opportunity. I hope you all know this song.

youtube

This is the childhood song of badassery. It was epic and spooky. To the right people, it would send chills down their spine. To me, a person who loves music, music has always been a lot about the story it tells. I took this song very literally for a while. Creeped out by my own imagination

But now it’s your turn to be creeped out. Maybe. This is a VLD idea. An AU. Lance gets separated from the others. A Galra ship exploding and sending him into space. The others were lead to believe he was captured by the Galra. while instead a series of not only Galra rebels, but neutral-good fighters and survivors as well. Then they were further lead to believe he was dead. ((Evidence points to them all spending at least 5 years in space. Keith had extra time cause of his blade mission. So we’re gonna kinda ignore the og timeline. This takes place a little while after the lion switch.)) so when they think Lance is dead. Pidge and Hunk have green and yellow lions like always. Shiro had black, Keith has red, and allura has blue.

But while they get used to Lance not being there, mourning him, all the while hoping he’s maybe out there. Lance is getting older. Stronger. In an area near a star where times moves just a little faster. About 3 years older than the other now, even when he’s been separated from them for only 2 years. They still miss him. And hunk can never forget him. But they’d gotten used to the pattern in their life. Then there’s a distress signal. In a pretty far galaxy. It’s really close to where Lance and his friends are. But Lance is taller, built a little more similar to Shiro, with all of his lankyness still. Just more muscle. Long hair. Cause apparently the food there makes hair grow fast, and everywhere. Lance gave up on taking care of his hair. Everywhere else is pretty well taken care of. He’s kinda skipped on his skin care routine. Shampoo works well enough. And sometimes conditioner stuff makes his hair curly. But he’s constantly dirty and scarred. Brace and rough and ruthless. Guns and sword and knives and other weapons. Better with technology and mechanics now. He’s practically everything he never was in team Voltron. And 10 times more. He is the best version of himself. He doesn’t even miss who he was. He might miss his old friends, but these new people, that aren’t so new anymore. They know him better than he should.

not sure when I’ll get to post this on Ao3: so let me know if you would like a version of the story posted here first.

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leemaoo · 4 years

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Leaves From the Vine

Warning!! This fic has the following: character death, slight gore, a whole lot of angst, a snippet of a romantic self insert, leaves from the vine song, slight ooc moments for some characters and just pure angst

iteration: can be applied to any iteration tbh

word count: 1385

notes: okay when i found out the va for uncle iroh was the same va as master splinter from the 2007 tmnt movie i had to write this up. this fic is a somewhat prequel to that sad bayverse fic i wrote a while ago, but you can apply this to any version

Splinter was always known for his calm manner when it came to comforting his children. His words of wisdom always soothed them when they turned to him in their time of need. His wisdom, along with a warm cup of tea, never failed to calm their intense emotions. However, even he will eventually break. That's what happened when his second eldest son came home with news he never knew would come.

His beloved eldest son had died.

He has never felt a pain so powerful hit him so hard when Raphael hesitantly brought the news, he can sense the pain in his voice. He wished that he could comfort Raphael, he knew how much Raphael loved Leonardo, he loved him unconditionally despite their fights in the past.

But all Splinter felt was the dull ache in his heart as Donatello and Michelangelo tearfully carried Leonardo's body out of their battle truck and placed him on the platform near Splinter's room. His body was bloody and his shell was cracked badly. Part of his face, arms, plastron and shell was blown off, leaving open and bloody wounds. His gear was taken off him, including his bloodied mask. His eyes were closed, he looked as if he was only unconscious from the battle.

Splinter felt his ache grow as he looked closer at his son, he looked so peaceful, it was like he was only asleep. But when his palm felt the cold skin, he knew that he has lost his son. He stepped back, went on his knees and bowed. The brothers followed suit, silently mourning the loss of a brother and a son.

By the time they had the funeral ceremony, Splinter was so full of grief that he could not speak in front of the small group. He remained in the site when the others left. He stepped closer to the carved stone, a small framed photo of Leonardo was placed in front of the stone, it was from the many photos Donatello took when he found a used Polaroid camera when they were younger, he looked so happy in that small photograph, it was impossible to imagine this happy child dead and bloody and yet here they are.

Autumn was making its way to the city, it meant that the brothers' birthday was drawing near. A cold breeze gently blew across the air as Splinter knelt in front of the stone, “Leonardo..”, he began, “My son..”

Splinter held the photograph in his hands, “If only I could have helped you..”, he felt tears fill his eyes as he gazed into the happy child's eyes.

He remembered a song he used to sing to the turtles when they were younger and was afraid of thunderstorms, it was from a show they loved to watch in the small TV Donatello managed to fix. He would always hold them in his arms, stroke their heads as he sang the song calming them down.

“Leaves from the vine...”, he managed to sing, “Falling so slow... Like fragile tiny shells”, he closed his eyes as tears fell down, “Drifting in the foam...”

“_Little soldier boy... Come marching home”, _he held the photograph closer to him as he felt the pain grow stronger, “Brave soldier boy... Comes marching... home...”

Those leaves did grow... From branches overgrown...

Raph dropped on the couch heavy with emotion, his eyes were red from tears but he had to remain strong for Leo's sake, he knew that bonehead would've wanted him to be strong. Strong for Donnie, Mikey, master Splinter, April and everyone else. He knew his place in the family, he had to be strong. Now that he's next in line to be the new leader.

Drifting slowly down...

Mikey lay on his bunk staring at Raph's mattress above him, Mikey's eyes were red and swollen from crying hard. He was the last person Leo pushed off before the bomb went off, if he went quicker, Leo would've had enough time to get away. It was his fault that Leo isn't there anymore. If anything Mikey should be dead, not Leo.

Donnie sat on his computer, he switched on to surveillance footage he was meant to monitor, it was a job he took when Casey got promoted and started his degree on his detective career. Although he followed Leo's direct orders to get out as soon as possible, he felt like it was his fault that he didn't find a way to dismantle the bomb. He knew what he could've done but he was too scared to do so. If he only had the guts to do his job, Leo would've been here. Donnie felt as if he was the worst “genius” in the team.

Resting on the loam...

April had dropped Lee to her apartment building, Casey needed to head to practice, he had a game next week. She sighed as she drove to her shared apartment with him. When she got the news from Donnie, she was taken back by surprise. She couldn't imagine the strong leader being blown up because he didn't have the time to save himself, not in this reality. She will never forget the sound of her friend crying out in heartache when she saw the body or the painful expressions on the brothers' faces during the funeral or Splinter's empty face during the whole ceremony. She wished she could've helped them, he was her friend too, after all.

Little soldier boy... Taken from home...

Casey panted as he skated towards his team mate and failed at retrieving the puck. He groaned as he fell down on the ice.

His team mate helped him up, “Jones, you alright?”, he asked, “You missed again, that ain't something usual from you”.

Casey nodded, “Yeah, I'm alright”, he said, “Just got out of a funeral, my best friend's brother died, I had to be there”.

His team mate winced, “Ah shit, sorry 'bout that, dude”.

Casey waved it off, “Nah, it's alright”, he looked down, “He did what he had to do”. He was there when it happened. He couldn't get the image out of his head, Raph sat there shaking Leo's shoulders yelling at him to get up, Donnie frantically checking for any signs of life and Mikey just panicking in the background. He had to keep Raph together when Donnie concluded hesitantly that Leo was dead.

He gripped on his hockey stick tighter, “C'mon, one more round”, he finally said, “We gotta win that game next week”

Forced to fight a war... That's not his own...

Lee lay in her bed under the sheets alone for the first time in a while. She held her faded blue book in her arms, her pillow was soaked in tears from crying. She didn't want to spend the night in the lair, it was too cold and too painful to stay there. Especially after all this mess. When she got the call from Donnie, she had the looming fear that something happened to Leo, but she was still thrown back when she saw his body. All she could hear was a ringing in her ears and her own loud screaming. She has never felt so empty yet so full of emotions. She wondered why was she in this in the first place? Why did she end up loving someone whose chances of dying a horrible death was higher than the average person? She could've just stayed single and dated multiple guys from her high school instead, but the universe decided to mess with her life in so many different ways. It felt so bad to even think about it, but Lee wished that she never met the turtles, maybe then she wouldn't be this broken tonight.

“Leaves from the vine...”, Splinter continued to sing, “Falling so slow... Like fragile tiny shells... Drifting in the foam”.

He opened his eyes and placed the framed photo down behind the candles, “Little soldier boy says, “Carry me home”...”

He set his eyes on the small tealight candles, their flames danced around as the breeze flew by gently.

“Sleeping soldier boy...”

Splinter went on his knees and clasped his hands together and looked up at the starlit sky. Maybe somewhere up there, he's watching them all, wishing that he could be there to comfort them.

Is carried home...

#tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2007 #tmnt bayverse #lee's dumb fics #tmnt 2003 #angst fanfiction #yall the amount of tears i shed while writing this-#i was crying so much when i heard leaves from the vine for the first time #now this shit hits too different now #i swear this is the last angsty fanfiction i will write #i promise

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keelywolfe · 5 years

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FIC: Severed Bonds

Summary: Edge, Jedi Knight, is lost in a Galaxy without the Jedi Order and the only one left to him is one who already betrayed them all.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Star Wars AU, Darkfic, Angst, Minor Character Deaths, Friends to Enemies to ?, Hatesex...?, Trauma, Implied Possible Insanity

Note: In the Star Wars Universe, Order 66 was a direct command for the Clone Troopers to kill their Jedi leaders. In the movies, this happened in the Revenge of the Sith, and it nearly wiped out all the Jedi in existence.

This story is set directly after that. So...yeah, it gets a little dark.

Ah, but Star Wars was one of my very first fandoms and imagining Rus as a Sith Lord and Edge as a Jedi Knight was too much to resist. Particularly when you have Cheapbourbon's gorgeous art to thank for planting the idea in my head.

Check it out here!

I've taken liberties with both the Star Wars and the Undertale universes, of course. Played fast and loose with canon. It's more fun that way. As an extra warning, this isn't my normal fluffiness and I can't exactly call it a happy ending. None of the character deaths references are either of our boys.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Consciousness came slowly, painfully so. Edge barely opened his sockets, enough to glance around the room he was in.

It was an unfamiliar medical bay and there was no one in sight. He sat up, stifling a groan at the ache in his skull. A medical droid powered up and left its charging station to come to him, metal hands urging him to lay back.

Its mechanical voice said with bland urgency, “Sir, you should lay down.”

He pushed the droid roughly aside and staggered to his feet. It moved back, out of his way, watching in silence, but if it was alerting a captor, it was too late to stop it.

All his clothing was clean and folded on a tray at the end of the bed. By time he pulled on his outer robe, Edge had found his balance, suppressing his headache with practiced ease, and no one came to investigate his waking.

His lightsaber was also on the tray and Edge took it automatically, clipping it to his belt.

Memory of what happened was fragmented; the suppressed pain did not eliminate the injury. His team traveling to seek out the Sith, that much he recalled, and there had been…an attack? An ambush? He needed answers before he chose his path.

He sank to his knees with the fluid grace despite his injuries, closing his sockets and reaching out with the Force. What he felt made him gasp, an unexpectedly wrenching cry of pain from within the universe itself and he hastily blocked it, kept his touch light, close. Memory came, as shocking as the pain flowing through the Force, and Edge opened his sockets.

There was only one other living presence on this ship and it was one he knew, all too well.

The ship was small and the walk to the cockpit was a short one. The other was sitting in the pilot’s seat, but the star field told Edge they were in hyperspace. His hands on the controls meant nothing. Familiar hands, long fingers of bone.

It was the first time in years he'd seen Rus anywhere except from the other side of a battlefield.

The lightsaber at his side was not a design that Edge knew, but he knew the color of its crystal. Red, as blazing crimson red as his own eye lights, though the meaning behind it was not one of a chance of birth. It was a choice.

Once his lightsaber had been green, complimenting the blue of Edge’s. They’d made them together, the one Edge still possessed and the one that Rus abandoned all those years ago.

Rus did not reach for his lightsaber, did not so much as look at him, even when he spoke.

"Where are the others?" Edge marveled at his own calm. He was a Jedi Knight and yet even he had his limits. The memory of the troopers who were supposed to be their allies turning on them, their blasters firing, of his fellow Knights falling beneath that deadly rain was fresh in his mind.

"they're gone," Rus said curtly. “all of them.” His voice was unchanged, even after all this time. Except for the underlying note of gentle humor that it had always held. His endless laughter was gone.

As gone as the other Jedi. "That's not possible."

But the Force told him otherwise; it cried to him, a universe worth of mourning and there was nothing but gaping emptiness at the other end of every bond. His team, Jedi he'd known and trusted for years were gone. Friends, teachers, students. Every mental path led to ragged emptiness. Where once the collective consciousness of the Jedi was a galaxy, now there was only the rare twinkle of a dying star.

It was no wonder he was so calm, he was probably going into shock

It was only his years of training that allowed him to keep his control. "You did this. This is because of you. You turned against us, turned to the Dark side."

Rus did not deny it but even as he said it, Edge could feel that it wasn't entirely true. He’d watched in quiet despair the depths that Rus sank to since his turning, watched as he killed when he should have been fighting at their side and yet. Rus had betrayed them, true, but this genocide was beyond even what he’d shown himself capable of.

They’d begun in the same crèche, he and Rus. Trained together as children, worked together as Padawans. They were knighted together, well on their way to being permanently teamed. Until with one desperate, reckless kiss, Rus destroyed it all.

On a mission with only the two of them, negotiations failed and turned violent. They’d only barely survived and ended up in the hold of a rickety transport they’d managed to barter passage on, huddled together against the cold. They were exhausted beyond reckoning and too tired to sleep. Edge trying to meditate, to reconcile what they’d gone through coming so close to dying, when there was a whisper in that darkness, his name.

“edge—“

Rus’s mouth had been hot, desperate against his own, pleading wordlessly, and Edge pushed him away.

He could still remember the look on Rus’s face, the raw emotion that no true Jedi would show.

It all collapsed so quickly after that, like a child’s balancing game destroyed by an ill wind.

And now they were here and the emptiness in his mind was as raw, as anguished, as Rus had been that day.

"Where are you taking me?" Edge asked, finally.

"i don't know. far away." Rus made a ragged sound, a mockery of his past laughter. "my Master has been calling to me, demanding my return. we need to get as far away as we can."

It would never be far enough. Through the Force all things were possible. Even darkness.

Edge sank into the co-pilot seat, staring at the starfield speeding outside. "You could have let me die."

Again there was that laughter and Rus shook his head. "i couldn't. i never could. not you, never you. it was always you, always, you were my downfall to begin with!" His anger trailed away into a low, broken chuckle, even now finding humor. “i gave up everything for you.”

"You gave up everything for yourself," Edge told him coolly. That was the truth of it, that was the Master’s teachings. The Jedi used their power for the benefit of all. To want for yourself was the path of the Sith and the proof of it was sitting before him. "I am not a possession for you to own."

"i didn't want to own you, i wanted--" Rus let out a low, shuddery breath. "it doesn't matter anymore. probably never did.”

"You left my lightsaber."

His laughter was bordering on hysteria now and Edge wondered if Rus was completely sane. Wondered the same thing about himself, if his preternatural calm was closer to a loss of self.

"i did,” Rus giggled, rocking in his seat. “i did. i wasn't entirely sure we'd be able to escape, and i didn't want to leave you helpless if we were boarded. me, they would probably spare, my master prefers to mete out his punishments himself, but you? you would only be another dead Jedi."

His control was slipping, cracking, Edge noted distantly, wondering again at his own sanity. "They are truly gone, all of them."

"most of them, yes. i expect a few have managed to escape. like you."

"Even the younglings, the little ones."

"yes." Rus swallowed hard, that maddening humor slipping away. “i didn't know. i wouldn't have--when the order came..." He shuddered with a thin rattle of bones, muffled beneath his dark robes. “this wasn’t the war i was meant to be fighting. the jedi are wrong, they expect us to cage our emotions and hide from the power that's possible, they are...were…"

"Rus--"

"they killed them all," Rus whispered. He never looked away from the hyperspace surrounding them, but his hands fell away from the controls, "i have blood on my hands, on my soul, i've never pretended otherwise, this was a war, but they...they shot them in the back. honor is a useless construct for those who choose death, but they killed children, they…that…"

“It was a war, this was what you wanted,” Edge said. The numbness in his soul was spreading, leaving him as empty as the Force. “And now you’re running away from it.”

“not you,” Rus said, softly, and he finally looked at Edge. There was nothing to mark his fall, nothing that named him Sith, save for the burning eye lights in his sockets. “that was too high a price.”

“Higher than your own soul?”

“too high a price,” Rus repeated. He grinned and it was savage.

If Edge was emptiness, then Rus was an overfilled cup and his hatred spilled out to sear them all.

His lightsaber was heavy at his hip. He could kill Rus right now, finally end this; the years of searching, of watching others being cut down beneath the glow of crimson. Edge didn't reach for it and wondered distantly if Rus had known he wouldn't or if he didn't care. “Asgore will find you.”

That smile turned bitter, a dead remnant of his former self. “he will, eventually, and my master will kill me. but then, it’s hardly the first time i’ve given up everything for you.”

Edge stood, striding out of the cockpit and away from what was left of his friend. And the Jedi.

~~*~~

In the weeks that passed, Rus mostly stayed away from him. It was a small ship, some interaction was unavoidable, but passing by each other in the common areas was more like walking past a ghost, a wraith who hardly looked at him.

Those fleeting glances told him that Rus was exhausted, darkened shadows sinking in beneath his sockets. The courses he plotted seemed nonsensical, likely trying to avoid Imperial forces.

Edge paid it little mind. He spent his nights sleeping and his days meditating. Reaching out for others through the static of emptiness, feeling through the Force for survivors.

But no one came.

There was nothing but the pulse of the one already on the ship. Rus’s Force signature was nothing like his former exuberance, all his gentle light darkened with anger, with hate.

It still felt like him. Edge pushed it to the side, and reached out further, searching for others that never reached back.

~~*~~

Another week passed and they landed on Soonia to refuel. An outskirts planet, the sort where power was law and the Empire had no control. It was little more than a trading post, but there was an outdoor market, shouts from those hawking their wares ringing through the growing heat of the morning.

Edge walked through it, his robes concealed beneath a dark cloak. Small stalls lined the walkways, with questionable meats turning on spits as they displayed a colorful array of the local fruits, fish, stolen wares, and everything else beneath the double suns.

He had no credits, not a thing to barter with. He was, however, not without skill and it only took a few nudges, a couple waves of his hand to net some fresh supplies, better than the gruel that has been sustaining them.

The afternoon was getting unpleasantly warm by the time he carried them back to the ship and he was preparing an evening meal when Rus returned. Edge had no idea what Rus traded for fuel, but he was limping and there was a ghost of bruise on his cheek bone that made his soul clench.

He stopped when he saw Edge.

“you came back,” Rus said, blankly.

For the first time, it occurred to Edge that he could have left. Bartered for passage on one of the other ships and Rus expected him to do it. They would be hunting him, true, as they were hunting all Jedi, but he would be infinitely safer away from Rus, who was marked as a traitor to be executed by the Emperor himself.

Distantly, he found himself saying, “Where else do I have to go?”

Edge turned his attention back to the fresh pala fruit he was slicing, sticky juice sluicing over his fingers. It would be delicious when it was warmed.

Rus stood for a long moment, watching. Then he limped slowly to one of the chairs and sat, waiting in silence until Edge set a plate in front of him.

They still rarely spoke but from that day forward, they took their meals together.

~~*~~

At the hour for his nightly meditations, Edge couldn’t focus.

Every day, morning and night, he searched for others, other Jedi who escaped, and every time he was greeted by nothingness. There was no one out there, the tendrils of the Force that tethered him his entire life were severed, still raw and bleeding even with the passing time.

They were gone, all of them. He knew it, had known it, but tonight was when belief sank in its teeth. They were gone and he was completely, utterly alone.

The taste of salt broke his concentration and Edge opened his sockets, wiping his tears away roughly with his sleeve. The Jedi were gone, dead, destroyed. Everyone he knew was dust.

All but one.

Edge rose slowly, walked out the door of his tiny sleeping quarters. The next room was barely two steps away and it was unlocked. He opened it, stepping inside.

On the narrow bed Rus stirred, his skull lifting from the pillows as he asked, “edge? what are you doing?”

There was only sleepiness in his voice, no hint of fear or his endless anger. Almost, Edge could pretend this was another time, another place.

Rus said nothing as Edge stripped off his robes and climbed into the bed, finding bones that matched the bareness of his own.

Edge had been with others. Sexual intercourse was not strictly forbidden, and he’d found momentary pleasures before, both between the thighs of another and others between his.

This was not sex; this was punishing Rus’s body and his own. Not with pain, no, the hurts they bore weren’t of the flesh, but of the soul.

It was an echo of that first kiss so long ago in a clammy, rusted hold; this was that moment, frozen in time, twisted and darkened and waiting for him.

He swept his hands over Rus, touching the sleek bones he’d denied himself before. There were new scars, stories gouged into him that Edge did not want to learn. Pain that he couldn’t bear to share, not on top of what he already carried.

The need within him burned and he pushed Rus’s knees apart almost desperately, settling between his femurs as he sought the only connection he could.

Rus cried out as he slid into him and the sound of it was the most honest thing they’d shared since that single, damning kiss.

Rolling his hips, Edge fucked him slowly, watching Rus coming apart beneath him. Fingers clawed at his rib cage, clutching him, holding him desperately and Edge allowed it. Giving him the body he’d denied Rus before.

He took his own back, scraping his teeth against the line of Rus’s jaw, tasting his mouth again and again, sharing his own desperation, his own raw need.

The brink came too fast, inexorably, and he could feel Rus reaching for him. Not with his hands, those clung to him, refused to release their hold. It was a shaky, tentative mental touch through the Force, reaching out to him.

Edge didn’t hesitate, opening himself up to the first Force contact he’d felt in weeks. The torn bond between them that had broken when Rus abandoned the Order was waiting for him. It was as damaged as the others that lay within Edge but when he reached for this one, it connected.

Despite everything, despite all the anger, the hate, Rus splayed open his soul to him and Edge did not cringe from the poison of his mental touch. His soul was filled with the Dark Side, layers of darkness, of rage and hate drenched in blood, and beneath it all, flaking away like layers of paint, was the Rus he knew, that he had always known and wasn’t allowed to love.

So broken, so hurt, so angry, that gentle soul buried in pain. But there.

In the shimmer of merging thought, he saw memory that wasn’t his own. The moment Edge’s team found him and before they could attack came Rus’s realization of what was truly happening. The clone troopers raising their weapon and—Rus caught the one aiming at Edge’s back with a brutal use of Force, lifting him from the ground and throwing him into a wall. His shot went wild, left Edge with only a graze on the side of his skull rather than a fatal injury. The other Jedi fell beneath the onslaught, dead and dying, while Rus’s lightsaber flashed, crimson slashing through the troopers until their screams faded.

Rus, picking him up, carrying him to the ship. Rus, caring for his injury. Rus, here and now, writhing beneath him.

When he came, his seed fell over Edge’s hand, dripping onto his rib cage, and only then did Edge close his sockets, losing himself in the slick heat, in this moment, in this life that was now his, theirs, until his own pleasure fell over him, raw and real, burning within him, flaring in his own soul.

Within the Force they reclaimed their bond and in that embrace, Edge learned what it was like to fall.

-finis-

Read Chapter 2

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #star wars au #forgive me

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the-zodiacs-written-in-the-stars · 4 years

Text

Chapter 25: Serpentarius

“It's him”, hissed Matt, elbowing Mike hard.

Mike yelped a little, reaching down to rub his ribs before he turned toward where Mike was pointing. Their lady companions also turned their attention toward whoever had gotten Matt so agitated. Matt had a theory. That this blonde man, who had upset Jamie last week, may actually be behind all of this. After all, the pub had been the target; Jamie and Jessie had been the target. So whoever was behind them, they must be from the siblings' past, right?

“That dude is behind the attacks?”, asked Mike with a frown.

“Well, he is from Jamie's past and made him uncomfortable”, whispered Matt.

He had shared his theory with, at the very least, his own team. He didn't want to voice it in front of the others just yet, not without more proof of sort. So the four of them had been observing the pub very closely, trying to see if the blonde man was going to return. After a week, he finally did.

“Okay. How do we... learn more?”, whispered Melanie, adjusting her glasses.

“Jessie!”, called Tanya out, waving the bartender over.

“More drinks? Aren't your glasses still full?”, questioned Jessie skeptically.

“Who's the blonde man talking to your brother?”, asked Tanya.

“Wh--”, started Jessie, just to turn around and pause surprised. “Well, fuck that. Arthur. Arthur Fitzroy, what in the world are you doing in Los Angeles?”

Her voice grew louder the more she talked and then she walked over to pull the blonde man into a hug, laughing. Okay, that sounded... weird. What did that mean for Matt's theory? He watched Jessie hug this Arthur person, still laughing. James stood warily aside, glaring.

“At least one Flannagán ain't acting like they don't know me!”, laughed Arthur.

“Wha—at are you doing here?”, asked Jessie, pulling him closer. “This one, he's Jamie's like oldest childhood friend. The two used to be inseparable.”

“And then you two just up and disappeared from the surface of the world”, huffed Arthur, elbowing James a little. “Me, Donna and Gaenor, we moved to LA couple years ago. The girls were pursuing their music career, thinking everything was happening here, you know all these... rags to riches nonsense we got taught in school. Well, actually worked out relatively well for the girls. They signed on with Red Queen Records and it's... going.”

“Who'd have thought that”, grunted Jessie surprised.

“I'm even more confused now”, muttered Mike, blinking a couple times. “I mean, if that's Jamie's best friend then why did he react the way you said...? And... what about the bad guys. I mean, are they... involved with the, you know...?”

Matt grunted and nodded sharply. It was better not to mention names and titles in public. But Mike was raising some very good points there. Reaching out, he grasped Mike's hand tightly.

“It's... okay. We're on square one, but we'll manage”, offered Melanie softly.

~*~

Jamie was biting his lip as he peeked around the corner. Trying to avoid Mike and Matt was decidedly harder when one was living with them. But they were �� after Jessie – the last people Jamie wanted to share the truth with. This was his to take to the grave, if possible.

If only Arthur hadn't read in the local newspaper about the pub's reopening. Chance. How annoying.

“Did... Did you manage to reach your sister?”, asked Matt, voice soft.

Jamie was torn out of his thoughts and he turned to look closer at the couple on the couch. Matt looked worried and Mike... Mike looked unusually sad. That was so very unlike Mike; he was always so sweetly smiling and goofy. Nearly obnoxiously optimistic, one would say.

“No”, sighed Mike frustrated, throwing his phone onto the opposite couch.

He leaned his head back, glowering. Jamie stumbled a little as he grew more curious. That however caught the attention of the couple. Matt and Mike both turned toward him surprised.

“Uhm. Sorry to... I didn't mean to eavesdrop”, grunted Jamie sheepishly, ruffling his own hair.

“It's okay. I mean, you literally live here and we're sitting in the living room”, chuckled Matt. “It's... not some big secret. You can come and sit with me, if you want to know.”

Jamie slowly approached them and sat down next to Mike's phone, chancing a glance at the screen. It showed a hung up call, a photo glowing up of a person Jamie had never seen. The same blue-green eyes as Mike and Melanie though – but she had a lot of piercings and her hair was purple.

“The...”, started Mike, voice wavering. “The anniversary of our parents'... death is coming up. It's been fifteen years this year. And... Mel and I, we've been... trying to reach our sister.”

The third Maguire. Right. Jamie was vaguely aware of another one existing; he had heard Mike talk about his childhood before, about how he and his younger sister had been raised by Melanie after their parents had died in a car-crash. Jamie's eyes softened as he looked Mike.

“And... she's not returning your calls?”, asked Jamie. “Why not? I mean, Melanie raised you both, right? You're... family. Or...?”

“No, yeah. We... We are family”, sighed Mike, leaning forward and hunching over some. “We... used to be so close, me and her. Melanie, she... she took a step back after our parents died. She stepped back from being our sister and became our parent. So Mack and I, we relied on each other as siblings, we tried to bring each other through that tough time... But... when we moved to the US six years ago, she... wanted to start her own life. I mean. I... I get it... I guess... She was nineteen back then, Mel had more or less decided for herself to move to LA, you know because of Sebastian – I don't know if you know the story, but the two were best friends who met online and decided to move to LA together. Anyway. Yeah. I guess Mack was angry with that and... felt betrayed? Because she didn't really want to leave home, but she also didn't want to stay behind on her own, so she ended up moving to New York and... we've only been in... sparse contact since then and over the past years, it's... gotten less and less frequent, I guess...”

“Oh”, whispered Jamie, reaching out to squeeze Mike's knee. “I'm sorry.”

“It's... okay. I mean, it clearly isn't but like it's your fault so yeah”, shrugged Mike with a thin smile. “I mean, Mel and I, we... are still close, so...”

“But... Mack, she's your younger sister and that's different. I know. If... If Jessie wouldn't want contact with me, it'd kill me”, muttered Jamie softly, swallowing hard.

Mike wrapped his arms around Jamie, pulling him into a surprise hug. “It's okay. Jessie adores you. Though, whatever it is you're hiding from her is super not helpful, you know.”

“She'd hate me if I told her”, whispered Jamie, face buried in Mike's neck.

“I don't think she could hate you”, offered Matt after a moment. “Siblings are complicated. But... I'm sure she'd understand. Maybe think about it? Because whatever it is, if she's going to learn it from someone else who is not you, I imagine... the reaction will be far worse.”

~*~

There were no words between them as Melanie hugged Mike tightly. He returned the hug just as tightly, face buried in her long, black hair, eyes closed tightly. It's been fifteen years and yet he still felt like that thirteen year old kid, having the cops tell them that their parents were dead.

“I love you”, whispered Melanie softly, hugging him tightly. “Did... Did she...”

“No. Been ignoring my calls for weeks”, sighed Mike and shook his head.

“Well, I figured, if anything we should talk in person, don't you think?”

Mike froze, stunned, looking over Melanie's shoulder. He couldn't believe it.

“M... Mack. You're back”, whispered Mike confused. “But... But how...”

“Oh, please”, huffed Mack and rolled her eyes. “You're literally engaged to a world-famous billionaire. Your address... not as much a secret as you think. Hey, big bro.”

Her hair was different. Shaved off at the sides of her head, but still in thick purple waves on the top. She smiled at them as she walked over. Something about her smile felt off though.

“Why didn't you pick up when we called?”, demanded Melanie to know.

“Oh, sorry. Been so busy lately”, dismissed Mack, her smile growing sharper.

“What... What are you... doing now?”, asked Mike softly, smiling encouragingly.

“Mh? Oh, I'm a talent agent. Working for Red Queen Records”, offered Mack. “Carry's so great to work with. Amazing woman. Very headstrong.”

“You... work with Carroll Lewis?”, asked Melanie slowly, taking a step back. “But... that would mean you'd be living here. In Los Angeles.”

“Mh. Yeah. I meant to tell you, but I just... couldn't, not yet. Too much to do.”

“Mack, what's going on?”, asked Mike nervously.

“I... can't believe you're so clueless that you really haven't figured it out yet. Haven't put the research in. Haven't put one and one together yet”, sighed Mack frustrated.

“Mackenzie, what are you talking about?”, demanded Melanie to know. “We're... We came together to mourn our parents. If you want to join us, please, but I'm not up for... whatever this is.”

“All of this”, snarled Mack angrily, throwing her hands up. “All of this has been happening for the same reason you two came together today. To weep and mourn our parents. You have no idea!”

Mike took a startled step back when their little sister started glowing a dark purple. When the glow disappeared, Mack was wearing a long purple velvet-dress with amethysts hanging around her waist, an even darker cloak over her and a weird symbol – a U with a ~ going through it – on her forehead. Mike's eyes widened stunned and he tried to shove Melanie into the house.

“I am Serpentarius. All of this was my doing.”

“W... What. But... But why...?”, grunted Mike confused.

“Because of you”, grunted Mack frustrated. “It's always been about you.”

“But... why?”, whispered Melanie, voice breaking. “I don't... I don't understand. After all these years, you show up here. You live here. You... You lead an organization of supervillains?!”

“Because our parents didn't die in a car-crash”, stated Mack, her voice dark and eyes hard. “Our mother was the carrier of Sagittarius. This stupid little organization of yours is what got our parents killed. I did my best to lure them here. To show you! I am not the villain here, the Zodiacs are. They killed our parents! I did everything I had to to get their attention so they would return to Earth! So I can show you! So we can fight them together.”

“W... What?”, whispered Mike, stumbling back.

“I know, this is a lot to take in for you and I know you may disagree with my methods – which, admittedly, is why I didn't tell you from the get-go, but you have to see that I am right. These Zodiacs are menaces. They come to Earth and destroy. Using humans as their puppets in their own little war, which should have nothing to do with us! And our mother, naive little Muireann, she thought they were 'the good guys' and she bonded with Sagittarius and it got her killed. Our parents' car didn't crash. Sure, it exploded in fire but that wasn't an explosion!”

Mike's head was spinning and he felt so very dizzy. Like throwing up. What did this mean? Any of this? His sister was the one they had been after. And their mom, she... no, that was impossible. He needed to get inside, warn Jamie and Matt, get backup.

“So I decided that the two of you should really come with me”, declared Mack with a manic smile.

Mike wanted to argue, but something stung him and things faded to black before his eyes. No...

~*~ The End... For Now ~*~

Read here on AO3!

Previous Chapter <- || Masterpost || -> Next Chapter

#Own Story #Story: Written in the Stars #Project: Written in the Stars

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iphoenixrising · 5 years

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For 700 Followers!

Hi babe.

That is terribly angsty and now I’m intrigued.

(Just a note for babe not familiar with No Home for Dead Birds or Fracture: I write a scene in which Tim literally has a gun to head. This is not lighthearted angst, please be warned if you read this.)

At one time, his colors had been red, gold, and green.

At one time, he’d been part of something bigger, something important. A legacy.

At one time, he’d been able to fly without being afraid of falling.

Being Robin had been the epitome. Even with all the terrible things he’d endured, all the injuries, all the catastrophes, all the insane megalomaniacal baddies breathing down his neck, he wouldn’t have traded the tunic for anything in the world.

(Dick had known it, had known how painful it was for Tim give it up once his Dad found out.)

He would have died with the R on his chest and never had a single regret.

Realistically, he couldn’t have been Robin forever, and he’d known that someday he would have to give it up and either move on with his life as a regular person, or take on another name, another mask, to keep fighting the good fight.

He hadn’t expected Dick would take it without a thank-you or fuck you to mark the end. That hadn’t been in the plan.

But it’s fine because Dick was the first and Robin had been his anyway, right?

Right.

Wrong.

Staring down the .45 in hand, the gun his father hadn’t had the chance to use to save his own life, Tim Drake wonders how it all came down to this.

(Last one left standing. Of fucking course.)

How it had all come out so badly, how he could barely step foot back in Gotham, how he had to avoid the Manor, the Carriage House, his own family home. How he couldn’t pick up the phone or answer texts coming from his former team. How he could barely keep himself the fuck together now that Bruce was back. How his hands would start to shake when the Manor phone number popped up (Alfred). How his mind’s eye would go back to Dick at the Big Computer in the Batsuit, telling him they were still equals. How he would imagine what would happen if he hadn’t caught himself when that zip line was cut. How he would sit in his safe house, off the Bat radar, and mourn the times when he was actually–

(happy)

–part of a family.

The pictures from an old Vans shoebox, the ones he’d taken back when he’d had the run of Gotham, following Batman and Robin (Jason), are burning in the kitchen sink. He watches Nightwing’s blurry face melt away and pretends there aren’t tears in his eyes.

The old memorabilia from Haley’s Circus is in a storage unit outside the city, along with a box that has his last Robin suit.

The lawyer has strict instructions to deliver the key and a letter to his former adopted father, Bruce Wayne, upon news of his death so anything incriminating can be properly disposed.

(They wouldn’t need any of it anyway. They could just shred all of it and wash their hands of him. The Robin that never should have been.)

A map with all his safe houses would be send to Conner Kent, along with a letter of apology.

His favorite nerd shirts would go to Ives.

The sundries in his Perch would be for Steph, and the penthouse itself would go to Babs in case things in the theatre went sideways.

Bart would get a zip drive with all their old shenanigans on video, the only copies left once his systems uploaded relevant data to Titan’s Tower and his electronic footprint would be–

gone.

The box with the Red Robin costume he wore was already sealed and addressed to Jason Todd. The note on top was short and sweet: You were right. It never should have been me after all.

He’d already arranged for his share in Wayne Enterprises to be returned to Bruce Wayne immediately, handing him his family’s company back without any strings attached.

Months ago, he’d returned The Red Bird to the Cave when he was sure no one would be around to catch him. The implication that Robin would need the car one day right there in the fact he’d brought it back because honestly, it was never really his in the first place.

Alfred would get his pick of antiques from Drake Manor, and the house itself would be given to the city to be used as a halfway home for runaway teens. He’d made sure the funding would be there to run it for a few years. The donation was made in his mother’s name.

The hilt molds to his palm, the barrel glinting bright in the night. To his credit, his hands aren’t shaky when he slides the clip home and pulls the slide back to put one in the chamber.

(The team had been working fine without him for a while now. Even if they did need someone, there was another Robin to join the roster and keep them moving forward.)

An abrupt light in the darkness, his phone screen lighting up with a missed call notification.

Missed call: Dick the OG

Ironic since the last time he’d come this far, it had been him calling out to the last person he thought could pull him back.

(Not this time. He has a new little brother, a new Robin.)

Slowly, without putting down the .45, he presses the ignore when the phone starts buzzing against with another incoming call. He thumbs the button on the side to turn the phone completely off without listening to the voicemail.

The clip makes a difference, but the absurdity of it, of the last time he did this, was when his future self was a murdering, gun-toting Batman, and the only way he could see to stop it was to stop himself.

The press of the barrel is familiar, and not in that soothing kind of way.

He blinks, just blinks, and his face is wet, which is really stupid because no one is going to miss him any damn way.

His chest gets tight when he fingers the trigger guard, giving himself the time he needs to do it right. In the final moments, he inanely thinks about the time he was huddled against Dick, right after he'd almost tried cloning his dead best friends in an insane attempt to bring them back. It's really the last time he remembers being held, being warm, feeling like he still fucking mattered. It was Dick holding him tight with restraining, breathing against the top of his head, fingers buried in his hair.

It's when he could be weak while still in the mask, babbling to Dick about how he can't do this, he can't lose them all. He was crying then, too, when he told Dick about his mom and dad leaving, leaving, always fucking leaving. About how he got used to seeing their backs more than their faces. How he was left standing on his own for too damn long to just let it keep happening. He couldn't keep losing them, couldn't keep seeing people walk away, how it fucking breaks him.

And in the here and now, his chest hitches, eyes fluttering, hand tightening down because he'd said...and Dick had...

"But I'm here, Timmy. I'm always going to be your big brother!"

It had been the last time he'd been surrounded by the famed octopus hold.

(It was the last time for a lot of things.)

He laughed, smothered in Dick shoulder, something further away from a sob. "Then I guess you'll at least never leave me, right?"

"You will never be able to get rid of me. C'mon. We're going the hell home and having a movie day. Screw the Lazarus Pit, Robin. It's time for some R and R."

Dick had half-carried him to the waiting Batplane and talked him down out of trying to use the Pit for his own gain ever again.

The first knuckle rests on the smooth curve, a six-pound trigger.

(In the end, they all leave.)

(Not again.)

Conner's terrible mohawk and leather jacket.

Bart racing Wally at a hotdog eating competition.

Cassie running full tilt to throw herself at him when he'd come to Titan's Tower to ask them for help when Ra's was going to kill everyone Batman ever loved.

Raven nuzzling Gar out of plain sight so no one would think she was totally gone for him.

Jason coming to the Tower, alive good God, and the Robin he used to be super-imposed to be his hero and enemy in the same ghostly figure.

Bruce putting a hand on his shoulder on a ride back to the Cave, chasing the dawn, the Good work, tonight tired but sincere, and his whole body lights up.

His mother looking at peace in her coffin, a lily in her folded hands.

His eyes close on the out-of-the-way safe house, the plain beige walls, stripped and soulless. He keeps the team in his mind, the times he was happy.

Now.

Instead of a resounding boom followed by his grey matter splattering his personality, intelligence, imagination, him all over–

the wall to the safe house caves in under a super punch.

Conner is white as a sheet on the other side, brick and mortar crumbling under his hands. "No! Tim. Tim. Put. The. Gun. Down."

His mouth is dry and his brain pan full of nothing but pain and disappointment.

(But you brought it all on yourself, didn't you? The Robin nobody wanted. The son nobody asked for.)

He isn't numb enough to be calm, cool, and collected. "All...all you have to do–" a hitch in his breathing "–is walk away."

The meta floats in a little closer, hovering over the flooring instead of outside. His hands stretch out, gaze focused and intense.

"Can't do that, buddy. Looks like I should have been more of an asshole after all the League of Assassins shenanigans. Sorry, my bad."

Kon knows he's in trouble when Tim Drake doesn't laugh.

"Tim," he goes to serious in about two point five seconds because the hand holding that shiny automatic tightens enough for him to hear the screws in the hilt strain, "Tim. It's me here, okay? It's just you and me, just like it's always been. We’re besties, whether you're Robin or Red Robin or Tim fucking Drake because that guy is so damn cool." He inches closer, wondering if he's fast enough, wondering if he can really get to Tim in time–

Like the former Robin can read his mind, those violet-blue eye give him a blink.

"I’ve always wondered if you really are faster than a speeding bullet."

“No!”

(...as it turns out, he isn’t.)

#so there's that #winter answers #700 followers #loves to you babe #warnings for possible triggers #you will probably cry #tim drake #kon-el #i cried so yeah #comment if i should continue #my fic #my writing

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crimes-and-gelato · 5 years

Text

Half a Blue Sky (Chapter 2)

Rating: M Pairing: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Chapter Title: Send My Love to Your Old Lover A/N: And thank you if you're still here and reading this.This chapter introduces Bucky, thus, it's going to include mentions of his murder of the Starks, his trauma, and his brainwashing. None are detailed. Just mentioned. I don't think this needed saying since we all know he went through all that but in case someone needed a heads up.That's it. Hope you like this chapter! :)

****

“You remind me of the stars in the sky because I don’t ever want to stop looking at the sky. I don’t ever want to stop looking at the sky. And I don’t ever want to stop looking at you. You’ve captivated my mind, my heart, and my soul. The flower from previous woes have now grown into beautiful roses. As beautiful as it seems I’m finding it hard to breathe because reality has hit me and I know I can never call you one word: mine.” -biancandbeanstalk

****

Steve comes back to the tower with Barnes in tow. And stupidly, that’s not the knife that metaphorically kills Tony. No, it’s Captain America’s grave news about learning of his parents’ murderer: James Barnes AKA The Winter Soldier.

‘It’s not his fault, Tony,’ Steve reasons out. Tony knows Steve will always take Barnes’ side no matter what. ‘HYDRA made him do it.’ There’s guilt and hatred in his voice that’s simply heartbreaking to hear. ‘Please help him.’

Tony knows he shouldn’t, that he can say ‘no’ and ‘fuck you’, and he won’t be the bad guy because Steve just opened an old wound that had never truly healed - it just scabbed over his heart and disfigured his insides. He’s mourning for his mother once again. He’s allowed to be angry.

But it’s Steve. Tony loves Steve, and he knows his mother would want him to heal and forgive. And there’s also that grieving look in Bucky’s eyes that Tony finds familiar.

So, who is Tony to deny Steve of anything? The super soldier’s happiness is important to Tony. Achingly so.

It also helps their case that Tony had been sent files about the torture that Barnes had undergone in the hands of HYDRA. It’s a miracle the ex-assassin managed to survive after those constant tormenting: the memory wiping, the unwanted operation, the inhumane training, and other more disgusting activity HYDRA planned.

Masochistic must be Tony’s middle name. Should have been because he does help Steve and Barnes.

Helping the two soul bonded doesn’t mean he fully forgive Barnes. No, that will take time. Lots of time because it’s about his mother. Maria Carbonell Stark whom Tony loves dearly. The woman who understood that Tony needed to be human before he could don the mask of a Stark man even when Howard was such a horrible husband.

His parents weren’t soulmates. Their union was nothing but a business deal.

Some people, like his parents do marry someone even when they are not soul bond. There is a statistics that say it works. But only a small percentage. Mostly, like Maria and Howard’s, fails. It’s like the universe cursing the union for trying to defy the odds.

Those who do defy the odds are small and brave and strong. Tony is none of those, so despite his old age — Rhodey says that thirty-six is the new twenty-three, or something — he tried not to settle down with anybody else except his soulmate. Only now, even his soul bond is a condemnation from the universe.

So much for waiting. He should have gone with Pepper, or Rhodey.

‘Don’t worry I’ll marry you when you reach forty, Antoshka, if you couldn’t find your soulmate,’ Natasha tells him one time he vents to her about his single-ness predicament.

Tony only cuddles further into her warm embrace. ‘But then you’ll be stuck with me.’ He throws his head back a bit to look up to her. ‘What about your soulmate?’

It’s mild but the Black Widow’s eyes flinch with pain. Just for a second. Tony could have missed it but he knows Natasha by now. They’re best friends after that green pistachio ice cream incident in which they have slowly learned to trust each other and now here they are, cuddling to make Clint gag.

‘They’re probably dead.’ She’s not meeting Tony’s eyes as she looks ahead on the TV. There’s enough nonchalance in her voice that sounded fake.

Tony doesn’t ask how she knows. He only wraps himself into her tighter and wishes that she didn’t have to suffer under the Red Room. But he can’t change their pasts. He can only wish for a better path for here on out.

Same goes for Barnes. And just like for Natasha, Tony can pave a great present and future for Bucky. Isn’t that what he’s been trying to do after Afghanistan to redeem himself from all the wrongs of his past?

He understands them both better because he took the same path and carry around a guilt that no amount of self-redemption could lessen the weight of. A road littered with blood and corpses. A road that he doesn’t want to take anymore because this is not the legacy he wants to leave behind.

Sometimes he wonders if this is why he’s close friends with Natasha — that could almost compete with his two decades friendship with Rhodey — is because she understands what it’s like to be broken. It might be the whole birds with the same feather adage. Or maybe it’s because he’s wise enough to make friends with broken people because they know how to survive.

Yes, he’s one, but there are times when he feels like he can’t do it anymore. Then he thinks back of the hell he went through and at the same time the hell he have brought, of all the amending he has to make for his mistakes. The latter alone keeps him moving forward, just like Natasha and Barnes, because he’s alive for a reason. And he won’t waste this second chance he got to turn his bloody legacy into something close to a shining beacon of hope for the future.

And isn’t that what he is? A futurist.

A man with an ambition to make the world safe for the future generation. Cliche as it may sound. But it’s the truth.

So, he needs to start working on the places he can fix. On the people he can help. People he believes have potential to makes the world safe.

Maybe he helps Barnes for Steve, but at the same time he helps the POW because he refuses to be a monster. He refuses to carry around a hate that his mother would never want for him.

****

‘Tony, it’s time for bed,’ Natasha informs as she walks into the workshop. She’s been very strict with his sleeping and eating schedule all thanks to Peppers request to Natasha to keep an eye on him. And when did the two scary redhead team up? Become friends?

‘No.’ He side-eyes her and reasons out that he’s not sleepy yet, but a yawn escapes his mouth. Great, even his own body betrays him.

‘It’s past midnight, Antoshka.’ She raises an eyebrow at him like a mother silently reprimanding her child. ‘You have an early board meeting tomorrow.’

Tony did glare at her. ‘You and Pepper becoming friends is one of the worst things that happened in my life,’ he whines but closes his holograms with a wave of his hand. He’s not stupid enough to try and disobey Natasha. He still wants to continue breathing, thank you very much.

They leave the workshop together and got on the lift.

‘Steve’s been looking for you since the day before yesterday ,’ she tells him blankly. But knowing her, Tony’s sure she’s trying to watch him for reactions.

Except Tony doesn’t have much to say. Only, ‘Really?’ And he even sounds believable as if he didn’t spend the entire week — since Steve’s return — avoiding the Wonder Twins. As if it’s all coincidence that he had lots of things to do in SI, the R&D needed him for some testing, and he had to fly to Wakanda for three days to meet with the genius princess, Shuri, to help with Barnes’ deprogramming.

He’s been busy. Not evasive. And if Pepper found him that one time in his office doing soduko at 1am when he should be home she got him some coffee and closed the door, bless her. Because he couldn’t imagine haunting his workshop as usual, it was team movie night and both Steve and Natasha have override codes.

So, not avoiding. Definitely not.

‘It’s about Bucky’s arm.’ And Natasha really does knows how to pique Tony’s interest because it’s obvious he had been lusting over the metal arm. It’s the engineer in him, really. ‘Steve wants to ask if you can take a look at it because it seems like it’s causing Bucky pain.’

Tony frowns at that. ‘Since when?’

The spy only shrugs. ‘You should ask Steve. Or better... Bucky.’

‘Sure,’ he tells her. Not knowing if he was bluffing or not. Maybe he should ask Natasha and save himself from stressing out over whether he should pull the band-aid in one go or peel it slow. She always seems to have the answer.

There’s that nagging thought at the back of his head as well that the spy had noticed his forced habit of calling Steve by any and all names but his first name, throwing the most ridiculous nicknames he can find at the man while keeping him at arm's length. But it’s not as if it’s suspicious that Tony’s using nicknames instead of names because he’s quite well-known for it. The only question is that if Natasha had been keen enough to figure out his deepest and darkest secret.

What will Natasha tell him if she knows that he’s Captain America’s soulmate? Maybe request him not to get between Steve and Barnes. That’s what people would say because that’s the right thing.

The elevator arrives on Tony’s floor, the penthouse suite. JARVIS opens the door.

‘Tony,’ she calls at him as he steps out.

He turns to look at her.

‘It’s okay,’ she says solemnly. ‘You don’t have to forgive him if you don’t want to.’ She stares into him, eyes colouring with genuine sincerity, just a dab of softness to the sides of her mouth. How he’d come to be so close to her to be able to read these things, he wouldn’t remember. Maybe it was all the time they’d been forced to work together, rub shoulders while sharing traumatic experiences.

After the fall of SHIELD, Tony thought she would set up camp by Steve’s side. But she still guards his corner. If he allowed himself, he’d probably hug her and weep. He’s allergic to any show of emotion though, and so was Natasha. Although they have been subtly disgustingly sweet and caring with each other. Ask Clint.

He only nods because what can you say to that exactly?

Natasha gives back a small nod in return and clicks the lift’s close button.

The spy is gone but Tony continues to stare at the elevator door and contemplates on what Natasha had just told him. It’s quite perplexing to believe that his pain is valid, that it doesn’t make him a bad person to not forgive Barnes. But then again, he had already decided to.

****

It takes him another day to finally face the music. He hasn’t seen Barnes ever since Steve had brought his soulmate to the tower. Not that Tony’s excited on meeting his competition. Also, there was no competition.

He invited the two super soldiers to his workshop, where he feels safer. The suits will be around him in case he needed a quick escape when it all gets too much for his poor heart. JARVIS will keep an eye out of him, and so will his bots.

‘Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are on their way, sir,’ JARVIS announces.

‘Thanks, J,’ he tells his AI, closing the hologram for the new suit. ‘Let them in.’

‘Duly noted, sir.’

And under three minutes the doors of the shop open, and in stroll the super soldiers. He turns his swivel chair to have a look at the both of them. Maybe he can desensitise himself by looking at them, just so it won’t hurt anymore. Maybe.

The pair of them look weary. The darker-haired one looks on guard but his eyes are wide in marvel.

‘Tony.’ There’s a small relieved smile on the blond’s lips. He’s taking the lead while Barnes’ two steps behind. The sound of his own name on the Captain’s lips make his insides ache but Tony tries to pretend it’s hunger pangs from his recent eighteen hour shift he pulled with the new suit designs.

‘Cap,’ he greets back not bothering to stand up. He then eyes the ex-assassin. ‘And you must be the infamous Winter Soldier.’ He refuses to call him Bucky. They’re not friends. They don’t have to be and that’s fantastic.

‘Tony.’ It sounds like a warning, but it’s usual for Steve.

‘It’s okay, Stevie,’ the Winter Soldier placates. He moves around so he’s next to Steve.

And if Tony’s heart isn’t breaking he’d say that they both make such a beautiful picture and pair. Instead he ignores them both and ignores his pain as he mutely orders the soldier to the medical chair. He keeps it for when he’s injured in battles and refuses to go to the medical bay. Bruce reprimands him for it and keeps saying how he’s not that kind doctor, but nonetheless he still fixes Tony’s injuries.

Barnes stares at the chair like a deer in headlights. The picture of fear is clear in his blue grey eyes.

‘Okay.’ Tony silently makes a mental note. He casually pats the metal table on the other side of him. ‘Sit here, soldier boy.’

There is instant relief in the ex-assassin’s feature. Although it is mild, because he still looks like he is ready to flee at the drop of a hat.

‘Where does it hurt?’ he asks and pulls up his hologram set up to do a full body scan of the man in front of him. Hoping that having something to do with his hands will keep him from getting excited and grabby with the shiny metal arm in his proximity. He has a feeling Barnes doesn’t want it to be touched without consent. His time in Afghanistan had told him that much about having an unwanted upgrade. ‘Can I touch it? Is it okay?’

The former POW looks at his soulmate as if he’s trying to find some strength from Steve’s silent assurance. Tony tries not to notice the amount of trust between the soulmates. Tries to ignore the knife digging deep in his chest at witnessing the very thing he can never have.

Barnes nods.

The man looks like an ex-convict no matter which direction you approach him from, Tony finds it a shame, he grew up watching the old reels of the Howling Commandos. He had always looked up to both Barnes and Cap. Mostly to the former because Steve’s shoes are impossible to fill. Even at the young age of five, Tony knows that truth.

So, he’s spent his younger years and teenage years on trying to follow Barnes’ footsteps, the amazing sidekick who quietly helps save the world even when no one acknowledges how much he had done and sacrificed.

He can’t imagine coming out and saying it so bluntly. He'd sound like a fool or a teenager with a silly crush. So, he’ll have to make do with what he can get away with: be his usual, flirty, sauve self. Steve would not get the wrong impression because he’s been a victim — countless of times — of Tony’s debauch personality.

‘JARVIS, what’s the scan say?’ He turns to the screen where several files are opening up thanks to JARVIS. At the same time he tries very hard not to ogle the man before him.

‘There appears to be an overlapping framework, sir,’ JARVIS replies as Tony’s screen fills with the arm’s 3D structure.

He turns to Barnes again, gently lifting the wrist to see the movement and the arm made clinky noises as it moved. The movement seemed natural and that was more than enough to peak his interest. ‘I’m going to open your arm panels and see what’s wrong, okay?’

‘I’m not going to break, you know,’ Barnes deadpans with mild irritation.

He might have used kid’s glove on dealing with Barnes. Really, he should know better than tip-toeing around the man like he’s a walking time bomb. Didn’t he hate it when his friends did that with him before?

‘Is that a challenge?’ he retorts, raising his eyebrows at Barnes. A wicked smile playing on his lips.

Steve says his name again with perfect measurement of Captain-America-is-upset-with-you.

And before he can roll his eyes on Steve, Barnes grins widely at him like the brainwashed assassin can’t believe how lucky he's got to be to have discovered Tony’s brand of humour. It’s very special and rare, and it offends lots of people most of the time.

‘Let’s see what you got, Stark,’ Barnes throws back, amusedly.

****

Despite trying to avoid The Wonder Twins, Tony finds himself alone with Barnes more often in his workshop than the times he sees or talks to Steve. Not that Steve doesn’t try to have a conversation with him. He just refuses to speak with his teammate.

They both walk on eggshell. And it’s not like Tony wants to close the gap between them, because he doesn’t want to. Well, logically he shouldn’t because he needs to move on. But at the same time he painfully craves to have Steve back in his life like before.

Can’t always get what you want.. This is it for Tony. He should start to accept that. He should. Even if it’s hard.

Barnes goes down to Tony’s shop all by himself now, refusing to have Steve around to metaphorically hold his hand. The other super soldier believes it’s better for his healing, to get slow independence on his own.

Princess Shuri’s device must be working, and so is the therapy because Barnes looks better than when Tony had first seen him. And it’s been only a month.

He wants to be happy with Barnes since they’ve somehow became kindred-spirits with how they both undergone body changes they never wanted. And he knows that the PTSD isn’t a walk in the park either.

But they’re not friends. They’re acquaintances, doctor-patient, housemates. Nothing more. And it shouldn’t be more. He should be afraid if he starts to crave for more.

‘Tony, Tasha told me to come and get you for din—,’ Bruce cuts off.

‘Hey, Bruciebear,’ Tony flashes his friend a smile and closes the metal panels in Barnes’ arm. ‘Dinner time?’

Bruce nods. ‘Tasha’s finishing with the cooking so she asked me to come and get you,’ he explains, studying Barnes’ arm thoughtfully. ‘And this thing is connected to his brain?’

‘Yes.’ He stands up from his chair and pops his back into place. ‘I’ve had JARVIS scan it. It’s quite revolutionary. But at the same time it needs great improvements because it’s sloppy work, very inefficient.’

‘Hmmm...’ Bruce continues to stare at the arm. ‘Maybe Dr. Cho can help you improve the motor neuron function commands from his primary motor cortex.’

‘I’ve thought of that.’ He puts his hands on his hips. ‘Helen said she’ll try to drop in two weeks from now, since she’s busy with the Regeneration Cradle at the moment.’

‘The Regeneration Cradle?’ Bruce’s eyes grow wide with amazement. ‘You’ve finished it?’ He puts a supportive hand on Tony’s shoulder, a grin creeping on his face. ‘Congratulations!’

Tony nods, refusing to blush. ‘Thanks.’

Bruce squeezes his shoulder softly. ‘I’m really happy for you, Tony. It’s going to help a lot of people.’

‘Well, that’s the plan.’ He shrugs, feeling embarrassed by the praise coming from another brilliant mind. Maybe an even better genius than he ever will be. ‘And I was hoping it’ll help Winter Wonderland here as well.’

And they both turn to Barnes, who looks annoyed at being ignored and talked about like he’s not in the same room as the two scientist.

‘I don’t think I have been introduced yet,’ Bruce mentions.

Tony jumps off at the chance for a change of topic. He doesn’t like being the centre of attention. No matter what the media says. Well, he actually does like being the star of the show, but only if he has control on what’s about to happen. Praise makes him uncomfortable, maybe it's because the concept had been unfamiliar for so long.

‘That is so rude of me,’ he jokes. ‘Brucie-bear meet the Winter Soldier a.k.a., Captain America’s best friend and soulmate, a.k.a. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.’ He gestures to the super soldier sitting on the metal table. ‘Barnes,’ he begins as he turns to the said man who appears to be quite tense now, ‘meet the incredible, brilliant , Dr. Bruce Banner. He has like seven Ph.Ds. it's frankly amazing.’

Barnes isn’t even looking at the man he’s being introduced to. No, his blue grey eyes are wide with shock as they dig into Tony’s face. His whole body is rigid with tension that wasn’t there like six seconds ago.

‘And he also turns into a sublime green being that can get you and Cap a run for your money on being The Strongest Avenger.’ He tries very hard to ignore the sudden changes in Barnes, knowing it won’t do good if he hovers over him now like a mother hen. That’s Steve’s job. Not that he’s not concerned with Barnes’ well-being, too. It’s only that he understands that sometimes your nightmares haunt you with no warning or whatsoever.

No time or place is safe for the traumas to make their appearance. Tony knows that. In a snap of a finger a moment can suddenly feel like your skin doesn’t fit anymore, or the room becomes too small or too loud or too quiet. It doesn’t make sense.

‘Nice to finally meet you, Sergeant Barnes.’ Bruce reaches his right hand forward with a smile.

But Barnes’ eyes are glued on Tony’s face like he’s disbelieving the genius’ existence.

It’s not yet a panic attack, but Tony fears it will become one. He wants to reach out to Barnes and tell the man to breathe in and out, only he doesn’t. How could he? The incredulity slowly morphs into terror behind Barnes’ eyes. The same grey blue ones that are turned to Tony.

There’s no denying the presented facts. Barnes’ is triggered by Tony. He’s currently Barnes’ Boogeyman.

Tony expects the pain, the ones that always comes when they see him as he sees himself: a monster. Hate will follow fear in the process. And he’s not ready to see those emotions on Barnes’ eyes pointed at him. He couldn't stand to disappoint another one of his heroes.

And before either of the scientists can ask what’s wrong, since Bruce has noticed as well, Barnes mutters a, ‘I have to go,’ before he leaves abruptly like he can’t stand to be in the same room as Tony.

To say that it hurts Tony would be an understatement. Rejection has never been gentle with him, and to think after all these years he should be used to it by now. The years doesn’t numb the pain so that one can get use to it.

He tries to look at the positive side: he’s not going to be bothered very long by Barnes’ rejection because they’re not friends. It’s a good thing they’re not. Even when Tony wanted to be at some point despite telling himself that he doesn’t.

This is exactly for the best. Cutting lose people before he gets too attached.

Not everyone can stomach him as a person, so it shouldn’t be surprising that Barnes had wanted out before whatever they had could have progressed. Hell, Tony’s sure most of his friends are ticking time bombs and would one by one leave him in the future.

He hopes that those days don’t come. But it sure will. He knows it, because Howard had reminded him way too many times that he’s destined to be alone and unloved. It comes along with his legacy as one of the problematic Stark.

#stuckony soulmate au #stuckony fanfic #steve x tony #tony x bucky #bucky x steve #stucky #stony fic #winteriron #fanfic #angst #fluff #half a blue sky #steve rogers #tony stark #bucky barnes

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bazingaholmes98 · 6 years

Text

Prompt: Tony finds out Harley didn’t survive the Snap.

A/N: Well hello there my marvel lovelies i felt like feeling sad, so here ya go. This is my first attempt and Tony so please, please, PLEASE let me know how I could improve this and in my defense I’m hella sleepy to proof- read this but I need the angst out of my system ;-;

@afuckingshipper @my-babies-are-ash Cause y’all wanted to be sad with me :)))

Dull voices buzzed around him, and gentle pats rained on his back. At some point, he registered Pepper hurling abuse at him, as she clawed at his ripped jacket, when a yelp informed him that her hands had found the deep gash in his side.

Tony didn’t see what the fuss what about though. Another corpse to the corpse pile - humanity had borne through worse and come out okay. Then why did this feel shittier than all those?

Oh, that’s right. Cause you could have stopped this. Ha.

Tony’s mind spun out of control as he collapsed onto some fine linen, the pain on his side slowly devolving into a dull throb, as a reassuring voice above him announced that the nanites will heal his innards in no time. Tony thanked the voice and grabbed at his nanite housing unit on his chest, asking for a computer to reprogram it.

He could see Pepper snarl at him from somewhere and Nebula’s beady eyes consider the red head expanding before her in anger. Tony sighed at Pepper. Please, he willed his eyes to say, not now. Baby please not now.

Pepper seemed to understand, but her anger was too profound, too volcanic to muster sympathy, as she stalked out of the room asking for Happy to commandeer for his idiot boss a god forsaken laptop. Tony felt his heart sink - he wanted to run after her, hug her, promise her that he would never leave like that, even if it mean that another half of the Universe was going to dust.

Then why didn’t he? Why did he just readjust his back rest to receive the laptop that Happy was handing him?

“What are you doing?” Nebula asked softly from the shadows, the hood covering her blue visage. Everyone seemed to be taking her presence pretty lightly. And why wouldn’t they - everyone had other shit to care about. And apparently they all needed Tony’s attention, he observed as his phone logs and emails seemed to be blowing out of control.

“Friday get rid of this drivel,” he raised his head to face Nebula, as he slowly unhooked the nanite compartment from his chest, “Just taking stock. Seeing what we have lost. The world’s in chaos outside, and we can’t…” the words seemed to stick in Tony’s throat. What could they do? They couldn’t bring them back? It was the only way, Tony… bullshit Stephen and you know it, Tony’s brain seemed to be shouting. There is no way this is how they come on top. Not like this.

He snapped his mouth shut and quickly attached a cable to the unit and began to furiously type away - the nanites started to weave and shape themselves into his HUD. His brain was racing at a million miles per hour, the incomplete sentence hanging over his heart like a guillotine.

We can’t what Tony? Come on you vivacious prick can’t you complete a goddamn thought without spiralling into… there we go, go on panic you stupid, stupid fuck…

Tony starting to hyperventilate, as deep breaths pained his side. Nebula’s dark eyes remained fixed on the human, her deepening sadness masked effectively. She could feel the words in his mouth, stuck there because of denial. “They’re not coming back. So we gotta think of something yeah?” she finished flatly.

Tony nodded and continued typing away as the Iron Man mask slowly took shape on the hospital bed. He stared at the mask’s blank eyes.

The suit and I are one.

Prophetic. I feel just about as empty as this tin can.

“They aren’t coming back” Tony repeated blankly. Nothing could bring back the dead, especially those that were literally already dust. So why was he quickly rapping away at the laptop keyboard, trying to get Friday online?

It was like that time he was in his garage, in his car, sifting passionately through old reports about Vanko, trying to find out more about his assailant, and as the webs lifted, he remembered feeling an uneasy peace.

He could do with a little peace, however intangible and ridiculous that might sound. As if on cue, the eyes lit up with the familiar blue, and Tony slipped the mask on his head.

“Good to see you again, Boss.” Friday’s cool voice declared as soon as visor hissed in place. “Based on the reports and the events of the last month, I had estimated your safe arrival to be nearly 0.1%”

“Missed you too Friday,” Tony thought, as he was painfully reminded of JARVIS. “Alright what’ve we got?”

“It’s not good, boss.” Friday said, sounding tentative, “Governments are in disarray, they’ve been shutting borders left and right, nuclear threat is at an all-time high, even though Wakanda tried to....”

“What about SHIELD? Fury should’ve been…” A cold icy realisation began to explode throughout Tony’s abdomen, and suddenly he felt like he wanted to vomit. Director Fury never seemed like the kind of guy who could just blink out of existence - Tony had always imagined that he would go out in an explosion, Viking Style, with the rain of heaven shining off his bald head. A beacon of hope to those who deemed themselves irredeemable.

So why didn’t he mourn him?

“He’s dead.” Friday said confirming his worst fear.

“Compile a list of my contacts who are alive. I need to know who we can get on right now.”

The list was small, pathetically small. Nat, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Clint were alive. He raced his eyes across the list, looking for other potential additions to a team, trying to ignore the glaring loss of a Peter Parker on that list or the way his heart dropped like a turbulent plane as his eyes grazed the words “May Parker”. Not even that Lang dude seemed to be alive, or Pym, or his daughter, or…

“Friday,” Tony whispered, “Friday, where’s Sam Wilson?”

“Deceased, boss.”

“T’Challa?”

“Dead.”

“Sergeant Barnes?”

“Dead.”

“All right fuck it, give me all the dead folks.” Tony groaned, his stomach flipping and somersaulting unpleasantly. The list was frighteningly large.

“Maria Hill.” He croaked.

“Dead.”

“Wanda? The Maximoff kid?”

“Dead.”

A child. That pompous shit Steve had said so himself, she was just a child. She didn’t deserve this, did she? If only he had listened - What good did... ah, fuck it never mind. He was too tired to think about lost causes.

The face of a young boy wrapped in a poncho suddenly popped into his head, and before he could stop himself he blurted.

“Harley. Harley Keener, Teness-”

“Dead.”

Nebula gasped at the speed with which Tony hurled his mask off his face, a gust of air exiting his already empty lungs, as he collapsed back into the bed, his face a sunken shell. The light twinkle that nebula had seen return when they had landed on Earth faded - to Nebula, Tony’s eyes were like the stars snuffed out by violent black holes, a black hazy void of dreams wisping about his doleful round eyes.

Just a child.

“Tony?” Nebula noticed a dark man wobbling into the threshold, his gaze concernedly surveying the broken man on the bed. He seemed friendly enough, but Nebula inched closer to the bed, unsure of whether her intent was to protect Tony from the intruder, or Tony from the all-consuming darkness growing within his heart.

Tony continued to stare blankly at the wall ahead of him, as Rhodey stepped gingerly over to his friend. Relief washed over him when he saw Tony alive and well - watching Bucky disappear in front of Steve had made him paranoid for the months that he waited to hear from Tony again. It made him mad - it was like Afghanistan all over again. But seeing Tony’s expression - he recognised it from that time Rohdey had come to shout at him about Monaco in the garage. It was one of utter defeat. The face of the man free-falling out of control - his eyes were tinted with red, his face a bruised, battered mess. A man who had nothing more to lose, and would like nothing to change that state of affairs, thank you very much.

“Tony,” Rhodey said softly, his arm grabbing Tony’s shrunken form. Tony’s lip twitched and Rhodey tried hard not to hug him in the tightest hug he could manage and tried to put a smile on for his best friend. “Yeah man, that was some Afghanistan type shit. How many times have I gotta tell you that doughnuts ain’t good for you?” he chuckled, his eyes constantly on the lookout for any sign that he might collapse.

Tony managed a smile, as he grabbed Rhodey’s forearms and gave them a little squeeze as if trying to put all unsaid feelings into that little gesture. He was truly glad that his best friend was alive. But that solace quickly gave way to the image of Harley’s cold form wrapped in a poncho seared into his mind. That image slowly dissolved to dust in front of him, like Peter, like Quill, like fucking Strange. The smile slipped off his face.

He wanted to cry but no tears came. His brain continued to whir and click - it felt like shit, trying to get Friday back online, ignoring Pepper, hunting for those alive to form a team or a plan or something… it hurt cause that’s what always happened when Tony tried to feel hopeful. He would just end up hurting himself or someone he loved.

Tony wished to God that Stephen was right. Tony wished that he could find hope in Stephen’s affirmation that this was the one plan that would succeed. Tony wished that he could continue fighting, continue saving that little spark of hope that seemed to reside in some gold titanium armour within his body.

But for now, he was all out of wishing and lungs seemed to be getting even more airless than usual. Faces of the dead swam into his vision - people he had failed. The unlucky ones hand picked by the lottery of the Universe.

“I had estimated your safe arrival to be nearly 0.1%”

Funny how his luck seemed to be work in the worst possible way. The Universe seemed to be running his life in an entirely different casino - a casino where every chip was rigged to screw you over.

“So you’re just going to leave me here, like my dad?”

“I’m sorry.”

He was breathing heavy, his brain spacing out as Rhodey’s arm caught his slipping form into a hug. His eyes were screwed shut as his heart hammered against his chest, a little voice in his head crying out desperately

“Oh God, What do I do? What do I do?”

But while there was a comforting voice at the other end of the line in Tennessee, here it was just Rhodey’s cries for a doctor and his own relentless sobbing.

#tony stark #infinity war #robert downey jr #angst #mcu #harley keener #peter parker #t'challa #black panther #rhodey #pepper potts #war machine #nebula #james rhodes #marvel #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #pepperony

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musicprincess655 · 5 years

Link

“Nightwing, respond.”

“Nice to hear from you,” Ryou said, pressing his fingers to the comm. in his ear to respond to his mother. “I have some updates on the situation in Gotham, and there’s a few things for the company that you should really take a look at, and…”

“Ryou.”

That shut Ryou up fast. His mother never called them by their real names over comm. link, not even the hyper-secure link just for the family.

“I’ve called a meeting at Mount Justice,” his mother continued. “Bring your whole team. This will involve you too.”

“What happened?” Ryou asked. He was already running through scenarios in his head. A new villain plot? Something with terrorism, probably, something that would affect the whole country. It had to be something big enough to justify calling in both YJ and the Titans. They might decide on their own to work together, but they were rarely called together. The Titans weren’t League sanctioned, and using them too often could send the wrong message.

“I’m not repeating myself,” his mother told him. “Be there in an hour.”

That was ominous. But at the same time, Ryou felt like grinning. It had been a while since they’d had something big. Much as he didn’t miss being his mother’s sidekick for...many reasons, he’d been a little jealous when she’d taken off for Europe with Sanada. The al Ghuls were more fun than Gotham’s standard villain fare. At least they had style.

“Team, gather in the kitchen,” Ryou said into the comm. He heard various sound offs that he mostly ignored.

Tetsu and Sawamura were already there when Ryou walked in. Kuramochi zoomed by to sit on the counter.

“Late again,” Ryou teased, because he knew it would make Kuramochi pout at him. He was in such a good mood from the promise of a big mission that he gave Kuramochi a gentle, affectionate karate chop to the forehead.

“What’s the emergency?” Miyuki asked, hip checking Sawamura out of the way so he could steal one of the seats.

“Hang on, where’s...oh, Jun’s here.” Jun leaned back against the counter next to Tetsu and nodded at him. “Good. Everyone get in gear. We’re going to Mount Justice. Batman called a joint meeting.”

“We’re working with Young Justice? Officially?” Kuramochi asked.

“Is there something big coming?” Sawamura asked. “Oh, I bet it’s aliens this time! No offense, Tetsu-san!”

“Aliens would be a nice break from our normal villains,” Tetsu agreed.

“I just hope these ones fight on the ground,” Jun said, though he looked just as pleased as Sawamura and Tetsu. “I haven’t had a good elephant fight in forever.”

Only Kuramochi and Miyuki looked a little more reserved. They both gave Ryou searching looks that saw too much.

“Is this about Batman not checking in with you?” Kuramochi asked quietly. Ryou hadn’t deliberately kept that from his whole team. It was just that Kuramochi and Miyuki were the only ones who’d known him long enough to notice he was worried. If he didn’t trust them implicitly, he’d already be planning their deaths for getting too close.

“She didn’t say,” Ryou said. “She doesn’t want to repeat herself.”

Kuramochi and Miyuki both looked concerned, but Miyuki hid it better.

“Let’s go!” Sawamura demanded. “I want to hang out with Young Justice before Batman gets there. I have to challenge Wolf Boy again!”

“For the last time, his name is Raven,” Jun said. “He can’t even turn into a wolf.”

“But he’s like a wolf,” Sawamura insisted, stupidly stubborn.

“If we’re going, let’s go,” Ryou said. “If you insist on challenging Raven again, make it fast. I don’t want to waste everyone’s time.”

“I’ll beat him quickly, Onii-san!” Sawamura promised. Ryou calmly ignored the nickname. It tended to confuse their enemies, and besides, it wasn’t like he could get Sawamura to stop.

At least he never called anyone by their real name in the field.

One quick zeta tube trip later, and Ryou could watch with amusement as Sawamura got in Okumura’s face. They were both heavy hitters, but in almost completely opposite ways, so it was always a toss up for how matches between them went.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” Ryou turned away from his youngest teammate and focused on the speaker.

“Hello, Batgirl.” Wakana grinned at him. “Still openly defying your father to be here?”

“He’s accepted it,” Wakana said. “Well, he’s accepted that there’s nothing he can do about it. Oh shit!”

She ducked behind Ryou, which was a little hilarious because she was taller than him.

“Why are you hiding?” Ryou asked innocently. “It couldn’t possibly be because you see someone you’d rather not talk to?”

“Shut up, shut up, he’s gonna look,” Wakana hissed.

“You’re going to have to get over this thing with Kid Flash someday,” Ryou said, following her eyes to where Kuramochi was yelling at Sawamura to quiet down. “Just because you feel guilty for breaking his heart…”

“Shut up, I was a bitch, I’m allowed to not want to see him now,” Wakana said. “I just feel like apologizing until he goes away.”

“That couldn’t possibly be because you only dated him because I said my best friend was off limits to other Bats because it would be awkward.” Ryou was enjoying himself now, and he was mature enough to admit it wasn’t for mature reasons.

“Yes, I was an idiot and a bitch, let it go.” Wakana dodged into the shadows, just as skilled as anyone else in the Bat family, reappearing next to Haruno, startling the Martian.

Ryou turned to watch Tetsu and Jun strike up a conversation with Takako, Miyuki and Katsuko cackling as Sawamura sent Okumura flying, Seto taking over from Kuramochi to yell at the two to settle down while Kuramochi chatted with his cousin Bart. It seemed almost strange, how well the Titans mixed with YJ.

Under Sanada’s leadership, though, the two teams had worked more closely together than anyone had expected. Since the Justice League had almost completely removed oversight in response to the first generation of sidekicks getting sick of the restrictions and leaving, there was a lot more freedom for both teams to work together when they weren’t scalping missions from each other.

“If I could have your attention.” Despite how quietly she’d spoken, Batman immediately commanded the room. Within minutes, everyone was circled around her, waiting quietly for her to speak.

Ryou looked behind her for Sanada. If they’d found something in Europe, surely he’d be standing behind their mother, ready to jump in with extra details she’d leave out because they weren’t relevant to the mission, shit-eating grin on his face.

Ryou couldn’t see him.

“I have bad news,” his mother continued. Ryou was probably the only one in the room who could tell there was strain in her voice. Was it really that bad? “Robin has died on a mission.”

The way she said it, so quietly, so devoid of emotion, froze the room. For a moment that balanced on a knife’s edge, no one moved.

And then chaos broke loose.

The Titans all stood as a rock in the storm of movement that was YJ at the news. Seto sat down hard, Okumura moved with him, Bart zipped around in frantic panic, and Jaime tried to grab him. Wakana started shouting, Takako raised her hands to her mouth, Haruno started crying. Katsuko sank to her knees.

Aqualad, Raven, Impulse, Blue Beetle. Batgirl, Zatanna, Miss Martian. Artemis.

“What happened?” Ryou asked. It felt like his voice was breaking something that couldn’t be fixed.

“Joker,” his mother said. It was all she had to say.

Ryou set his jaw. Joker had been a thorn in his family’s side for too long, but even Ryou had never actually believed he’d kill one of them. If nothing else, Joker seemed to have some obsession with playing with their family.

“Young Justice is on standby for now,” Batman said. “If you’re not staying in Mount Justice, you’re going with your mentors. Do I make myself clear?”

Ryou didn’t bother to listen to anyone’s response. He just followed his mother out of Mount Justice. She ignored him until they got away from everyone else. They’d easily escaped everyone’s notice.

“What really happened?” he asked.

“We can discuss this-”

“We can discuss it now.” Ryou almost expected to be scolded for his tone. Instead, his mother just sighed. Somehow, that was worse.

“He fell for a red herring,” she said. “And so did I. We got separated, I didn’t find him until it was too late.”

“Too late how?” Ryou was familiar with Joker’s sense of style.

“We’ll have an autopsy report soon,” his mother said. “I wanted to know if he was dead before or after the explosion.”

“Explosion?” Ryou shook his head. “Have Alfred send me a copy when it’s ready.”

His mother grabbed his arm as he turned to leave.

“Don’t read that report,” she said.

“Is that an order or a request?” For once, Ryou couldn’t even guess what her expression was under her cowl.

“A request,” she said finally. “I can’t really give you orders anymore, at least not that you’ll listen to. But it won’t make you happy. And you won’t be able to change anything.”

“That’s not the point,” Ryou said. “You know that’s not the point.”

“I know,” she agreed. “At least let us have a funeral before you do anything about it.”

“Is that permission?”

“It’s me acknowledging that while I could stop you, I don’t particularly want to. I just need you to know something.” To Ryou’s shock, after a quick look over his shoulder, she pushed her cowl up. Her eyes were worse than anything he could’ve imagined. “Revenge isn’t a substitute for grief.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You can’t take revenge and skip out on grieving. Mourn your brother with me before you go off avenging him.”

She pulled her cowl back down and disappeared. Ryou could have followed her, but she’d told him everything he needed to know.

Now all he needed was that autopsy report, to see how dead Joker was about to be.

#daiya no a #dna #kuraryou #miyusawa #my writing #dc!au #utbh

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notforconsumption · 6 years

Note

I’m gonna regret this but if you’re still doing those drabbles, could you do “Mourn Me?” With Sam and Five?

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character mourning another character’s death.

No spoilers in this one, just pure, unfiltered angst.

It’s generally accepted that there are about five stages in grieving a loved one, stages a person must endure to move on. Sam stumbles at the first hurdle.

Your name is Sam Yao and your best runner just died.

No, correction. Your name isSam Yao and you just heard your closest friend choke of their own blood, takeone gasping, rattling breath, and then stop. You heard nothing else. Theequipment was on, is on, and functioning perfectly fine.

You are the radio operatorfor Abel Township, pioneers of the apocalypse, and you’re screaming into yourmicrophone because Runner Five isn’t responding. They haven’t made a noise inseveral minutes even though the little red light next to their number tells youthat their headset is still transmitting and Five is quiet but there’s quietand then there’s dead quiet.

It takes three people to drag you away from the comms desk whenthey finally hear you and come running. No one knows what happened becauseyou’re not exactly coherent. It’s pretty clear, though, from how you’re stillcrying their name and no no no no please no despite how much yourthroat hurts and how they’ve taken the microphone away from you.

It’s difficult to tell whathappens next but you wake up the next morning and for a long time you’re no oneat all.

You’re adrift.

It feels like it should feelgood. You’re floating and everything is pillowy, even the spring-shot oldmattresses of the Abel hospital have all the give in the world to them. It’slike tumbling through an infinite goosedown duvet, not that you’ve ever slepton goosedown. This is what you imagine it must be like. Soft. Light. Painless.That’s what is missing.

It takes feeling nothing toremind you where you are and how you probably got there and that your name isSamuel Yao, radio operator for Abel Township, and you just led Runner Five intoan ambush. You just led Runner Five to their death.

Sitting up results in fallingout of bed onto hard linoleum with a resounding smack. You’re throwing up fromeither the morphine vertigo or from coming back into your own head - there’sburning in your throat and in your eyes something fierce. There are hands inyour hair, gentle but shaking, and the thickness of tears in Maxine’s voicemakes the retching worse.

The pit of your stomach isempty and then some by the time you can sit up. There’s acid on your tongue andacid burning on your mind.

The room spins, you let it. Nauseameans precious little to you. It all begins to stay, eventually, the worldsettling into place around you. There is no dream. There is only Maxine,beautiful brown eyes shot through with red looking at you like you’re the one withbits torn out of your chest.

At some point you’re moved,Maxine guides you like you’ll float off into the great blue sky without herhand on your arm, to the farmhouse. You’re not alone here- on the contrary, itfeels like the whole of Abel has forced its way inside to spectate yourfailure. If you weren’t already swaying on your feet it would make you dizzy.

All you want is foreverything to stop.

No, correction. You wanteverything to rewind. So desperate your heart aches in your chest like your ribcageis slowly crushing it - you need everything to go back. To reverse the lasttwenty-four hours and consign them to your far-flung nightmares.

Everything stays how it is.The people around you talk and you don’t so much listen as you absorb the wordsthat sigh and grind and struggle through the air.

Nothing is new to you, butone by one they confirm something you sort of already knew. No one saw RunnerFive die.

You heard them, yes. The wetsound of liquid filling their airways, the sudden lack of any sound at all. Butyou did not see them go.

There’s a certain irony toit, your mind tells you as you sit on the sunken sofa in Janine’s living roomand half listen to the things people are saying. Strange - that you wouldn’tsee Five die. You who have watched them for a thousand hours through a thousandcameras from an infinite number of angles. You can recognise their stridethrough screens that are more static than image. You know the tilt to theirhead when the signal is bad in the same way you know the shake in their whenyou crack a joke.

Only sometimes, though.Sometimes your jokes are pretty terrible.

The night passes so slowly once everyone else has left andthere’s no longer a crowd to drive home the many people you’ve robbed. The walkback to the comms shack is unfamiliar in the pre-dawn light, as unfamiliar asthe silence that waits for you on the other end of the radio. The little redlight burns on until morning, when the sunrise bleeds through the dusty windowin a sickly pink - the colour of blood in water. It stings your eyes but youdon’t miss the LED begin to flicker, despite your hoarse please, please, please no,don’t go. It blinks out.

With the day comes nothingmuch new. The comms are still quiet. There’s still a sizeable hole in yourchest somewhere beneath your sternum. A team is sent out - Jody volunteers, sodoes Owen and Lou and Ed even though he’s not a runner and so many others youforget - to find Five.

They don’t.

You name is Sam Yao and rightnow you’re not an operator because you’ve been relieved of duty until yourdirect superior and assigned medical professional deem you fit to resume work.Janine and Maxine may have barred you from the shack but they can’t stop youfrom waiting on the wall above the gate where the snipers sit.

You see them come home, theretrieval team. They bring nothing with them, not a body to burn and not thevaguest idea where it even is.

Then it’s tomorrow, the samestory, and the next day. The snipers have begun to give you a wide berth. Likeyou’re infectious, which is silly. If you were, well. They’ve got their guns.

After a week the others stoplooking. Logically, the body must have gotten up and shambled away. But Fivewasn’t bitten. It could have been eaten. But, again, you’ve seen some peopletorn apart by the hoards. There are bones left. Bits of clothing, anythingnon-organic like Five’s headset, their backpack, their lucky trainers. Thatwould have been left even if nothing else was. You throw up again, when youthink about this, over the wall this time. The burn is familiar now.

“We’ll never stop looking,Sam, not really.” Jody tells you after the final failed retrieval mission. Shelooks like she hasn’t slept in days. Both of you are hardly eating but despiteall the searching all they’ve found is a congealed puddle of blood. at the endof that damned dead end, the blind alleyway you send Five down to their end. “Ifwe even think we see Five you know we’ll stop what we’re doing. Go after them.Bring them home, if we can.”

There’snothing much you can do but say you understand. So you do, and then you go backto the wall to your watch as Jody watches your back retreat. At some point you’vetaken to searching the horizon for that familiar stride, that certain width ofshoulder and turn of face.

Becauseif they haven’t found them, perhaps there isn’t anything to find. PerhapsRunner Five is out there, still. They’ve made it home before, through far worsethan this. Through gunfire and grasping hands and the vast hunger of theapocalyptic night they have made it home to you.

Yourname is Sam Yao and you will wait as long as it takes for Runner Five to come backto you.

This is not the first night you’ve stayed up waiting for your runners. It’s not the first night you’ve stayed up for Five, pouring your heart into a dead frequency. This is no different. Tomorrow night will be no different, nor the night after that. There can be no end to the book you were writing together without the final page.

You remain constant in your vigil. You remain on the wall even as the autumn chill creeps into your bones and makes a home there. Even as your eyes smart with water, irritated by bright red light of the beacon flashing atop the radio tower. It stays. Five knows to follow it home.

Your name is Sam Yao and you are still waiting.

#are-you-sure-its-me-you-see #Sam Yao #Runner Five #Zombies Run #thank you for your ask duck #did u regret #if you didn't then I didn't write hard enough #this one kind of seized me at midnight so #it is what it is #gingerbreadwrites

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squirenonny · 6 years

Note

For the Turn Left meme, because I'm an awful person: What would have happened if Lance had killed Keith on sight when they first met back on Berlou?

[Turn left meme]

FUCK YOU, that's what (j/k You know I love the angst.)

(But seriously, this AU is dark as fuck, so trigger warnings: death/grieving including multiple potential instances of major character death, depression, PTSD, re-traumatization, mind control, uhhh I think that’s everything? Putting this under a cut because it’s long and dark. You’ve been warned.)

Okay, so let's take this in chronological order, because there are a fucking lot of implications of this.

Immediate Ramifications:

I meant, Shiro was right there. He was sprinting to cover Keith, and he was close enough that Lance still would have got the message even if Keith was dead before Shiro got there. So there's always the possibility that Lance panic-shoots the second dude in Galra armor before he realizes that it's Takashi Shirogane. So there's bad end #1, because the paladins didn't know about Haggar or her weapon when they arrived; it was Keith and Shiro who told them. With them dead, Haggar fires, and there goes five paladins and three lions. Congrats, Matt doesn't even really have time to process that Shiro is dead, and Lance sure as hell doesn't have time to feel guilty for it.

So we have to assume Shiro survives, because that's not nearly enough angst to do this left turn justice.

So Shiro survives, but the rest of that scene plays out more or less the same. Matt arrives, freaks out a little, not least because Shiro's cradling the dead body of a Galra officer and not even making an attempt to defend himself against a potential follow-up shot from Lance. Allura arrives to confirm that Shiro's a friend, and Lance goes deadly quiet as the horror begins to set in. It doesn't help that Shiro is so dead-eyed he barely reacts to Matt, just sort of... collapses into sobs until Matt eases him away from Keith and the focus slowly shifts back to the ongoing battle.

The Battle for Berlou:

The battle continues largely unchanged, right up until the battle to destroy Haggar's weapon, where they start to feel Keith's absence. Allura takes a couple of the rebels with her when she goes hand-to-hand, and she manages to make it out--barely. Except Matt's been hit by the druids' Quintessence attack and is out cold, the Red Lion falling from the sky, and there's no Keith to take the controls. The fall doesn't kill them--Red has that much control, at least, but Matt and Allura are both banged up after it. Matt definitely can't fly for the rest of the battle, and Allura honestly isn't in any shape to try to emergency pilot Red, either. So Voltron's out for the rest of the fight.

They probably still win, eventually, but it's a long, hard battle, and a lot of people die. It's definitely not the resounding victory that it was in Duality canon, and even worse, the team isn't in good shape after it's over. Sure, Keith isn't there to be the focal point of the friction, but Shiro is bitter and grieving, and there's no one else who can help him with it, really, because no one else even spoke with Keith, except for the brief, anonymous exchange after the fight with Sendak. Matt tries to help Shiro, but Shiro just sort of shuts down about it--and as hard as he tries not to let his grief bleed through, there's gonna be some bitterness directed at Lance, which just sort of makes everything a million times worse.

Dual Paladins:

Figuring out the whole dual paladin thing suddenly becomes a million times harder, because see... the thing is Keith and Matt happened first because instinct is Red's whole shtick. They needed to sync up, so they did. Boom. Easy as that.

That doesn't happen this time, and Shiro is still deep in mourning for Keith and suuuuper doesn't trust this team (Matt is the sole exception and even there there are walls for days). So that's a no-go, and the lack of awareness of the potential means no one even realizes Shay's a paladin for ages.

Assuming no one dies because they're suddenly fighting this war on hard mode, Pidge and Ryner are probably the first to sync up and the entire team has zero clue what's happening. They eventually figure it out, and Hunk and Shay sync up, and Shiro and Allura start to work on it, but it doesn't happen quickly. Or at all. Shiro's... Frankly, Shiro's acting like canon Shiro/Ryou in late season 3-season 5, but ten times worse--tense and short-tempered and just constantly criticizing everyone because not only is he traumatized and grieving, but he also does not feel safe on the castle-ship. He's just always waiting for someone to turn on him because he worked for the Galra. He says absolutely nothing about what happened to him for fear of it getting turned around into an accusation, and he has a really hard time opening up to the others enough to form Voltron. It gets so bad that once Ryner joins the team and they all realize that Allura is a legit paladin, after all, Shiro throws in the towel. He'll fight on the ground, but he lets Allura fly, because she doesn't have the same problems forming Voltron as he does.

Lance, meanwhile, is guilty as fuck over killing Keith. He didn't know the guy, and Shiro won't talk about him, but it's obvious that Shiro isn't evil, so the fact that he not only trusted Keith with his life, but is visibly devastated about losing him, even weeks later? Yeah, Lance feels like a fucking monster, and there's nothing he can do to make up for that. He can't apologize to Shiro, because Shiro can barely stand to be in a room with him, and he can't go back and un-kill Keith. Hunk and Allura and Coran help him as much as they can, but Lance keeps beating himself up, to the point that he starts freezing in battle, afraid to kill anyone, because what if they're another Keith?

Shiro has growing concerns about his arm and the knowledge that Haggar can use it to control him, but he sure as fuck doesn't say a word to anyone. Are you kidding? They'd kill him in an instant.

Dark!Shiro Arc:

Hoooo boy. Hoo boy. You thought this was bad in canon. HA.

The Battle for Kera goes down largely the same way, but with Shiro going in on foot with Pidge instead of Allura. Lance still goes in on his rescue mission, and he still runs across Haggar, but when the team finds him, Shiro is at the end of his rope. Rather than fretting about Lance's wounds, he launches into a lecture (a lecture which is, to be fair, a highly stressed expression of genuine concern, just. He hasn't processed yet, and he definitely hasn't made up with Lance. It's been six weeks at this point, and Shiro has spent most of that time actively anticipating being murdered in his sleep. I cannot emphasize enough the degree to which these kids are not in a good place.)

Regardless, this gives Haggar Ideas, so instead of capturing Shiro, she possesses him but keeps a low profile, leaving Shiro to act as her agent from within Voltron.

(So there's bad end #2: Shiro kills everyone. Fuck.)

Miscellaneous

If??? We somehow make it past all this hell without killing anyone besides Keith????? (Technically freeing Shiro is the same as always, but even easier because Allura isn't also possessed, so as soon as they realize what's happening, they can probably stop it.) It still doesn't really get better??????

Shiro just. Shatters. He's been through too much, he can't trust anyone or anything, not even himself. He can't make himself care enough to be mad at Lance anymore. He can't even look at Black without feeling sick about how he's only fucked things up since he got to the castle. He slides into a deep depressive episode and just sort of ghosts around the castle, struggling to care enough to perform basic functions like eating and showering. Matt helps as much as he can, but Shiro is in a very dark place right now.

(This isn't helped by the fact that Matt is still struggling with his own trauma, both emotionally and physically, and he doesn't have a copilot in this verse. He’s exhausted, frustrated, and has no clue how to help himself, let alone Shiro.)

Val arrives on the castle-ship, and Lance--neck deep in self-loathing because he blames himself for what happened to Shiro--almost loses it. He killed an innocent person for no goddamn reason, he single-handedly destroyed Shiro, and now it turns out he also completely failed to protect his own family.

The first slightly less-awful thing happens in this AU, and Nyma becomes a Red because Matt is fucking drowning and he needs someone to fill the hole Keith left behind. They don't click as well as Keith and Matt did right off the bat, but they get there, and Matt really appreciates that Nyma's got his back without babying him.

...Let's just say the paladins are all harder for their experiences by the time they get home. After the battle, Shiro stays on Earth to get some fucking therapy, and Akira stays to take care of him. Meri joins the team as the third Blue, but honestly she probably ends up working something out with Black even though they aren't very compatible, because Allura needs some help. Fuck.

I don't even know where it goes from there, because there's still a war to be fought, and they're all already hurting for allies. I like to imagine Shiro slowly heals once he's away from the war, and eventually he and Lance meet and talk and hug it out, because deep down, Shiro doesn't blame Lance at all, for any of it, and Lance needs to hear that from Shiro before he can let go of his crushing guilt.

#dualityverse #ask meme #turn left meme #this is definitely the bad timeline guys fml #dennymark-legobutt #answers

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riddle-me-this-mr-nygma-blog · 6 years

Text

The Guardian - Loki (Part 2)

“Y/N” The familiar voice of Thor called, I focused deeply on his tone. “Find Loki, he’s attacking mudguard” My eyes shut tightly, focusing on his long dark hair, the sound of his voice in murmurs. I focused on the street he was on, his smile as his suit transforms into the attire I had grown use to seeing. “I need your help”

“Thor” I whispered, looking around for him, I walked into the crowd, looking up to Loki who had a menacing smile on his face.

“Kneel before me” He shouted, making people jump, as they tried to run away, Loki projected himself, blocking everyone in. “I said. Kneel!” He screamed further, smiling to himself. I stared up at the man I use to be friends with, frowning to myself.

“Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel” Loki’s soliloquy made my eyes roll. I knelt alongside everyone else, watching as one elderly man remained stood.

"Not to men like you” He challenged, I watched as Loki’s face fell, anger rising.

“There are no men like me” He growled, I looked to the man a few meters away, the brave man who refused to fall at Loki’s feet.

“There are always men like you” The elderly man looked Loki directly in the eye and remained stood.

“Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example” He cheered, pointing his scepter. My eyes widened and I watched as it fired, ricocheting from the shield of a man who jumped before the elderly man. The beam split, and I watched as Loki was knocked back, before feeling the pain in my stomach.

“You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing” The man in blue said, standing to look Loki in the eye. Loki glared back, standing up.

“The soldier. A man out of time” Loki stepped forwards, a smile on his face.

“I'm not the one who's out of time” From above the man in blue, a jet arrived. A machine gun was pointed towards Loki

“Loki, drop the weapon and stand down” I heard a female voice call out, I looked around, confused. They fought between themselves as I stood, looking around for a familiar face. The familiar face. Loki ended up in the position of power, with his scepter pointed to the man in blue’s helmet.

“Kneel” He repeated once more.

“Not today!” The blue man replied, flipping round and toppling Loki with his leg. The fighting continued until another person came in, a man flying in, a red and gold metal suit. He hit Loki with some sort of weapon, knocking him to the ground. The man in red landed, guns coming out from all over his suit.

“Make your move, Reindeer Games” The man said, making my eyebrows raise. I watched as Loki’s arms raised up, and surrendered, his armor vanishing as he gave in.

“Thor” I whispered, calling out to the man who would know what’s going on. “Thor I’m on the ground, what’s happened?”

“Find me” he replied shortly. I nodded, vanishing from the crowd. I materialized beside the blonde man, nodding my head to him. “Lady Y/N, Loki is on one of his missions again, I need you to help. You’re the only person he listens to” I nodded, meeting his deep blue eyes.

“Thor, I don’t care for the reason. It’s my job to protect the realm, and midgard. Just take me to Loki and I’ll bring him home” I looked up to the sky, feeling Thor wrap his arm around me. Thunder picked up as we flew through the sky. Thor put me down on the top of the jet. He opened a door, and jumped in. I followed, once my invisibility had kicked in. I looked around to see the man in red and the man in blue.

Thor grabbed a hold of his brother, who smirked to the two men beside him.

“Now there's that guy” The one in red said as I wrapped my arms around Thor’s shoulders as he jumped from the plane. We landed and Thor threw Loki into the mountain, I climbed off, allowing for my cloak to fall. Loki looked up to me, eyes widening. Thor raised his hammer, holding it over his apparently dead brother.

“Where is the Tesseract?” He demanded, but Loki’s eyes remained on me. A faint humming drew my attention; however, it was far away. I remained uninterested in their argument, though my attention was drawn by one comment by Thor. “I thought you dead.” Loki shrugged looking to me.

“Did you mourn?” Loki asked him, eyes remaining on me. I sighed, looking to the older of the two brothers.

“We all did. Our father...” Thor motioned to me before continuing.

“Your father. He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?” Loki jibed, before looking to me, remembering my attendance of the moment the truth came out.

“We were raised together” Thor exclaimed, gripping his brother’s shirt. “We played together, we fought together” He listed, I nodded to punctuate each sentence. “Do you remember none of that?” He begged, looking to his brother for hope.

“I remember a shadow. Living in the shade of your greatness” Loki looked up to me, begging for someone to fight his side. “I remember you tossing me into an abyss” He added, the betrayal strong within his broken voice. “I was and should be king!”

“and there it is” I sighed, rolling my eyes. Loki looked up to me and I crossed my arms frowning.

“So, you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights. No, the Earth is under my protection, Loki.” I looked up to Thor, why did this planet mean so much to him.

“And you're doing a marvelous job with that” Loki laughed, rolling his eye and looked to his brother. “The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly threat” Thor held his hand up to intervene while Loki continued “I mean to rule them. And why should I not?”

“You think yourself above them?” Thor asked, raising an eyebrow. Loki thought for a moment, chuckling.

“Well, yes” He nodded, smirking to me, but the smirk fell when he saw that I wasn’t amused.

“Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother” Thor looked to me and I nodded, agreeing with him, Loki could never become a king. He isn’t suited for it, “Throne would suit you ill”

“I've seen worlds you've never known about!” I snorted and he nodded, realizing the fault in the statement. “ I have grown, Odinson, in my exile! I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it...” He bit into his lip, looking to me out of the corner of his icy blue eyes. I closed my eyes, looking out for Heimdall, who stood at our post, waiting patiently. My attention was once again stolen by Thor being knocked off the mountain. “I’m listening…” Loki joked, making me snort.

“Y/N, come on… you can’t still be mad at me?” He whined, making my eyes roll.

“Loki, I trusted you, you betrayed that. I knew you were the jokester, the god of mischief, but that doesn’t mean you need to be an ass” He bit into his lip, nodding slightly, with a smirk. “He’s your brother, blood or not. Thor is a brother to me?” I challenged, making Loki look away. “This needs to stop Loki, you need to stop” I took a step closer, taking his hand in mine.

“I can’t, I need to rule Y/N. I was supposed to rule” He whispered weakly.

“You need to surrender, to give yourself in” I mumbled, looking up into his blue eyes. “I’ll stay with you, but Loki… do the right thing. There are 7 billion lives on this planet… I can’t see you destroy them. I can’t be near someone who thinks that is okay” I explained, making Loki nod weakly.

------------- Onboard the Helicarrier -------------

I looked around the ship as I lead Loki towards the cell he was to be imprisoned within. I could see everyone watched myself and Loki, afraid one of us would cause problems. We looked to the glass cage, “It's an impressive cage. Not built, I think, for me” Loki raised an eyebrow before looking to me with a smirk.

“Built for something a lot stronger than you” The director answered, looking around the room.

“Oh, I've heard” He chuckled, I lead Loki into the cage, turning to leave, and vanishing as I reached the doorway. I quickly bound back to Loki’s side, my hand coming to rest on his lower back, informing him of my prescience. “The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?” Loki laughed as I sighed, sitting along the wall.

“How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control” Fury growled, taking a step closer. Loki chuckled, urging the man to go on, “You talk about peace and you kill ‘cause it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did” I nodded to myself, the humans were growing desperate to be rid of him, they had called together their strongest, the man who doubled in size, a man from their old wars. The man with impeccable aim, and a woman who has killed more than most of the team combined.

“Ooh. It burns you to come so close” Loki snarled, I looked up to him and rolled my eyes. “To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is”

“Well, you let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something” fury said before walking out, I snorted and then smiled to myself.

“You can come out Y/N” Loki chuckled, turning towards me. I let the cloak fall once more, shaking my head at the dark-haired man opposite me. He smiled, walking towards me. “So, you’re going to stay locked up here, with me?” He asked quietly, sitting beside me on the floor.

“Lady Y/N, may I speak with you?” I hear the deep voice call from behind, I jump up to see Thor smiling at me, the man in blue stood by his side. I nodded, flashing myself to their side. “Follow me” He continued, I obeyed, walking beside the man in blue, and I could see his eyes following me every step of the way.

“So… what are you the god of?” The man in blue said, making both Thor and I laugh. “I assume, being of Asgard you are another of these many ‘gods’” he added, an eyebrow raised.

“I am not a god, in such a sense that Thor and Loki are, I am what is known as a Guardian, for the gods, or one god” I said, looking to Thor who smiled back at me.

“So… what do Guardians do?” He asked, making Thor laugh, the booming sound echoed through the hallway.

“Exactly what you think, I guard, I watch over and protect. I see everything going on at every point in time. I hear everything, so when Thor received news of Loki’s plans, he called upon me” I explained, looking ahead.

“So, you’re like Thor’s bodyguard?” one of the many agents asked, making me laugh and shake my head.

“No, Guardian’s aren’t bodyguards… and I’m not Thor’s Guardian, I’m Loki’s” their eyes widened, “You could say I have some influence over the trickster” I chuckled, smiling to myself as we entered the room surrounded by the Earth’s mightiest warriors.

“He really grows on you, doesn't he?” Dr Banner said lightly, looking to me and Thor.

“Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?” The man in blue asked, looking to the god who walked around the table as I took a seat.

“He has an army called the Chitauri” I rolled my eyes, of course he was in allegiance with the Chitauri. “They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract” I sighed, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.

“The Chitauri are shapeshifters, they consider themselves to be the immune system of the universe, going to planets and wiping existence when they feel necessary. Usually they do not eradicate a species, however they remove the part they consider to be toxic. The most likely time you will remember is your last World War, the chitauri act behind the scenes, influencing the military and its behaviors. With your last war, they aided the German’s in creating new technologies for nuclear weaponry” Everyone in the room looked to me and Thor smiled proudly.

“This is Lady Y/N, of Asgard, she is Loki’s guardian, a warrior sworn to protect Loki, and to help him make the right decisions, guardians are the most powerful beings to walk any planet. She is able to see the entire universe at any point, and she has also become a good friend of mine, since Loki went rogue” Thor warned, making me chuckle.

“You make sure Loki does the right thing?” The man in blue asked, and I let out a sigh.

“I don’t make him do anything, I influence and protect, but recently Loki has grown apart from me, he worries about my impending death” They all looked to me with confusion, even Thor. “I’m old, in reference to my people… for a human I would be maybe 90 years old… my lifespan doesn’t stretch much further. It has stressed him greatly. He wants to find a way to stop the natural from happening” I muttered, before running a hand through my hair. “Anyway, back to this current event” I cleared my throat before looking around.

“An army? From outer space?” The man in blue asked, looking to me. I nodded quickly, the Chitauri were not a good thing to be bringing to this planet, they would wipe it out.

“So he's building another portal. That's what he needs Erik Selvig for” Dr Banner realized, making Thor’s eyes widen.

“Selvig? He's a friend” Thor said, looking to me. I nodded, closing my eyes and trying to find him.

“He is okay Thor, just under Loki’s influence” I whispered, gaining everyone’s attention. “and he’s fighting too. He knows what is happening” Thor let out a breath then nodded.

“I wanna know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here” The man in blue thought aloud, making me sigh. He was leading them from here, this was his plan.

“I don't think we should be focusing on Loki. That guy's brain is a bag full of cats, you could smell crazy on him” I snarled in the direction of Dr Banner who just stared at me as Thor spoke up.

“Have care how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother, and an old friend of Y/N” Thor warned the room as I steadied my breathing.

“He killed eighty people in two days” The assassin recalled, making me grimace.

“He's adopted” Thor offered, making me snort. “And she stopped talking to him about a hundred human years ago” Thor pointed to me as we both laughed. “though for you it would feel like months” He added, time conversion rate, it’s a nightmare.

“We know Loki is a challenging person to care for, but we do care for him” I explained, looking around the room, watching as everyone looked at me suspiciously. Director Fury walked in, looking at me with discontent.

“Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned” Director Fury explained to the people around the table, eyes lingering on me.

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet” Thor challenged, and I nodded looking to the God beside me.

“But you're not the only people out there, are you?” the director looked to me, and I nodded slightly. “And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled” I shook my head, I can see what happens, but I can’t prevent it all.

“Like you controlled the cube?” The man in blue asked, I looked up, he had a point.

“You're work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it” I hummed in agreement with Thor’s statement, all of the team looking to me. “It is the signal to all the realms that the earth is ready for a higher form of war”

“You said you have control over Loki?” The man beside me asked, I gasped and shook my head violently.

“No! Oh gosh no. I can’t control him, but I have influence. He listens to me” I corrected, my mind flashed back towards the cell Loki was in. “Thor, your brother” I warned, Thor got up, bounding out of the room, when everyone looked to me. “You might want to go too… Loki is trying to escape” I called casually, before flashing back to the cell. An agent was pointing a gun towards Loki, who was at the control panel for the ship.

“Move away, please” The agent asked, making Loki chuckle and step away. “You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent THE DESTROYER. Even I don't know what it does. Do you wanna find out?” The agent threatened, I gasped as I saw Loki appear behind the man, scepter in hand. I flashed before him, feeling it pierce through my chest.

“You're gonna lose” The agent said, looking to Loki, he looked back to me and smiled weakly. “You’re not like him” He whispered, I stood up, glaring at Loki who stared back at me. Next I knew, I saw a beam pass by me, hitting Loki in the chest. I looked down to the agent who chuckled. “So that’s what it does” he smiled to me.

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

I closed my eyes, searching for Loki, only to see him and Thor, fighting. I flashed in, hiding behind Loki, Thor nodding to me. Thor grabs a hold of Loki's face, forcing him to look straight ahead, forcing him to watch as the city falling to ash.

“Look at this! Look around you! You think this madness will end with your rule?” Thor demanded, I stepped into Loki’s eye line, raising an eyebrow. His face fell as he looked to me, pain rich in eye.

“It's too late. It's too late to stop it” He whispered, his voice breaking.

“No. We can. Together” Thor offered, before Loki raised a knife, stabbing him. I watched in shock as Thor fell to the ground, I crumpled on my knees beside him, pressing my hand to the wound.

“Sentiment” Loki sniggered, Thor stood up, gripping Loki’s collar and slamming him back into the ground. Loki rolled to the side, over the edge of the building, I rolled my eyes and watched as the ship flew past, Loki smiling to me. He shot a wink before shouting out to all of the Avengers.

“Enough! You are, all of you, beneath me! I am a god!” I rolled my eyes as he faced Bruce Banner, who was now huge and green. I could feel the anger rippling from him. “You dull creature, I will not be bullied!” He shouted. I watched as Bruce grabbed a hold of Loki’s foot, slamming him on one side before throwing him over and doing the same on his other side. He hit him on the ground a few times before throwing him aside.

“Puny god” He mumbled, before walking away. I watched as Loki crawls over to the stairwell to be confronted by the rest of the human team, who all look down on him. He crawled up, taking a deep breath before mumbling.

“it's all the same to you. I'll have that drink” Loki wheezed. I rolled my eyes as Bruce snorted. Loki looked to me, the disappointment on my face mirrored on his. “Lady Y/N…”

“Loki, there’s no going back on this one. Thor, your brother, and I both believed in you, we both abandoned our posts because of you. Now Odin might forgive Thor, because who’s to control him? But how do you think I’m going to fare? I’m weak enough as it is already loki, the stress of this is only going to make my mind wither faster” I snapped, taking steps towards the raven haired man.

“Y/N, I a-“ I slapped him across the face, turning back towards his brother.

“Cowshit Loki. You don’t care in the slightest about anyone else. If you claimed to care for me as you use to, then I would never have been put in this position in the first place” I turned one I reached Thor’s side. He took my hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. “You, Loki of Jotenheim, are as the humans say, a whole lot of ass!” I shouted, making the avengers laugh.

“Asshole” Natasha muttered, smiling to me. I nodded in thanks, smiling back.

“That one then” I recalled, looking back to Loki. Smirking as I controlled the energy around to enclose his wrists behind his back.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, pulling on the binds. “Oh come on, seriously, you’re supposed to be MY guardian!” He groaned, making me smirk.

“As your guardian, I am intended to keep you on the right path, doing the right thing. This means, I am to scold you when you try to take over a planet!” I shouted, making his eyes widen. “Loki, damn it. What happened to the guy you were when you first saw me? The inquisitive guy who wanted to use me to further himself as a person?” I growled, taking a step towards him.

“I wanted to have sex with you, that’s a different thing” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Very different” He glared, making me frown. I took in a deep breath before looking to Thor.

“Take him home. I have a meeting with your guardian to make” I sighed, making Thor shake his head.

“No, Lady Y/N, Loki needs you” Thor answered, smiling to me. “The 9 realms need you” He sighed.

“Tell that to sir jackass” I nodded to Loki who smiled to me.

“I missed you too love” He smiled, I rolled my eyes, watching as agents escorted Loki to a holding cell.

“Love?” Steve Rogers asked, making Thor boom with laughter.

“Loki has a… certain attraction towards his guardian” Thor chuckled, as everyone looked between myself and the Trickster in green. “Though it isn’t mutual” Thor added with a chuckle, making me smile back.

“It is forbidden for a guardian and their ward to fall in love… and I’m dying… What’s the point, I’m making the best of my time. Which I don’t need to spend chasing you around” I growled towards the god at the end, he just smiled coyly and laughed nervously.

--------------- Back in Asgard ---------------

I sat in the corner, watching as Loki paced back and forth. He mumbled away to himself about nothing in particular, he spun around looking around the cell. “Y/N?” He asked quietly. “Are you here?” I sighed and let the cloak fall, he looked down to me and offered a weak smile.

“Loki…” He shook his head, walking towards me. Loki slid down the wall, sitting beside me. His head fell back against the wall, raven hair spreading out across the pure white wall. He let out a small sigh, placing his hand on my thigh.

“Can we just sit in silence for a while, I need to think” He whispered, I nodded before resting my head on his shoulder. Loki squeezed my thigh lightly and hummed to himself. “I’m scared Y/N” he admitted

“What of Loki?” I asked, looking up to him. His blue eyes filled with water, a twitch in his lips.

“I don’t want you to die Y/N, I want to do all I can to stop that” Loki leant his head back on the wall, letting out a groan. “I don’t want you to go. I need you” He admitted. I smiled to myself and sat up, spinning to face him.

“Loki, you’re doing fine on your own” I chuckled. “You don’t need me anymore, just remember not to kill people” I laughed, making Loki smile slightly.

“Y/N, I’m trying to be serious, for once” He chuckled, looking to me. I smiled then nodded, signaling that my lips were sealed. “I’m 2200 years old, and you’ve been here for all that time. Do you not understand why I don’t want to be without you?” He asked, I bit into my lip and shrugged lightly.

“Loki, it can never happen” I sighed, looking to the walls around us. “we can never happen” I intertwined my fingers together, looking to the ground. I felt him slump beside me and he let out a sigh.

“What are you?” He asked quietly. “You never told me” Loki whispered, making me look up to him. I chuckled and bit into my lip.

“When I said I was the last of my species… I was the first, as well as the last” His eyebrows raised and I bit into my lip. “There is a term for the human gods, the gods known in christianity. The abomination. My mother was an abomination. My father was an archangel, and my mother was a the daughter of the devil and a prophet. I was raised amongst the angels, in the hopes that I would be morally good, though I aged much slower than all of them. They called me an abomination, in the human God’s books… I should not exist. They banished me away with the rest of the half angels, into a world where we live for our jobs. I never sleep, I can’t” Loki’s smile fell and I bit into my lip, nodding gently.

“It wasn’t too bad though Loki, never think that. I have loved this job, I love being with you, helping you. You actually made me feel normal, I’m not afraid to die. I’ve lived more in the past 2000 years than I ever did before” I whispered, making him smile warmly. “Loki, I’ve had a great life” I chuckled.

“Tough, you’ve got more to live” He retorted, finally turning to look at me. “You know how I’ve felt for a long time” Loki whispered, making me chuckle.

“What that you want to show me what sex is?” I snorted. “You made moves for a year, and then finally stopped when you realized it wasn’t going to happen” I teased, nudging him gently.

“Is that really how you think of me?” he asked, not bothering to hide the hurt in his tone. “I care about you, I have for a long time. You’re not just a guardian to me, you’re more than that…” Loki blushed lightly, humming to himself. “I honestly care so much about you Y/N, you should know that by now” he laughed, making me smile.

I let out a sigh, meeting his crystal blue eyes once more. He bit into his lip once more, before leaning in to press his lips to mine. I gasped, feeling his hands curl in my hair. A smile crept onto my lips before I started to kiss back. “I knew you secretly liked me” he whispered against my lips.

“Just shut up for once Loki” He laughed and pulled back, resting his forehead on mine. “Be yourself, not an arrogant prick for once” I whispered, making a smile spread across his face.

“Who is Loki; but an arrogant prick? Ask my brother” Loki joked, making me smile.

“No, Loki is a wonderful man, who has a big heart and just needs someone who sees him for who he really is, a genius and a romantic” I whispered, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Tagged: @naturallyliz-things, @awkwardpagan, @pepperr-pottss

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elegiesforshiva · 6 years

Text

Ghosts Pt VI: Paper Invitations and Stockholm Syndrome

Masterpost

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Sakura is disappointed but unsurprised to find her optimism leaves with her high. The disappointment heightens when she has another nightmare of Sasuke the following night. It starts with Sasuke pressing kisses between her naked breasts and ends with him fucking her with a kunai, laughing. Is this what you had in mind?

Sakura is thankful that the hospital is in perpetual need of medics because sleep has never sounded so unappealing after that.

But she can only evade her body’s needs for so long. Exhausted, she spends the morning of her first day off in weeks the way her mother often did: In bed, buried under her covers. She doesn’t dream but she has visions—visions of a sleek black veiling her.

She sees worms crawling through the corpses of lions. She sees elephants, huddled in a circle, mourning their dead. She sees a white-blue light, coursing through her and into another. His hair is long and his eyes are tired slits, underlined with an azure calm. His tomoe cycle, pupils dilate. She feels the brush of his lips against hers, pleading,

Stay.

Sakura consciousness barely comes and she’s sticky with sweat and worn with fatigue. Her throat is yearning for something cool and wet. But in the midst of her half-asleep state, she finds she’s too tired to care. She’s wasted all her energy on fantasy—wondering if she can sleep away the feeling of being wrapped in his snakeskin. Or maybe she can dream her mother’s lament into another place. A place where it can’t coat her tongue or ooze from her nail beds, staining all she tastes, all she touches.

It’s only as the blankets are violently pulled off from her that she wakes with a gasp, the stuffy heat that has cocooned her replacing with unwanted clarity. She looks up at bright, cerulean eyes, Naruto’s tan features handsome as ever.

“Sakura-chan?” he asks, cautious. “Are you okay?”

Sakura groans, lazily sitting up. Her mouth is dry, and her hands are pale in front of her face. She’s clad in nothing but a loose top and knickers, but she feels so sullied and smothered in hot smog that she wishes it was even less. She needs a shower. Or ten.

“I’ve been calling your name for like half an hour,” Naruto grumbles, annoyed. The rasp of his voice is sandpaper on her ears. He places a hand on her forehead. It’s warm and dry against her skin and she feels nauseous. She would move it away if she had the energy. “Are you sick?”

Sakura shakes her head, her movements slight, weighed down with the pressure of his hand and her dysphoria. “No, just really dehydrated.” It’s more than that, she knows. And she knows that he knows too.

Naruto drops his hand. “We were supposed to train together.”

“Oh. Fuck.” Sakura mutters. “What time is it?”

“Like 4.”

“Pm!?” Her voice is hoarse and she groans. “Ugh. So much for making use of my day off.” She reaches for a bottle of water she keeps by her bed. The liquid is lukewarm with an unpleasant aftertaste, but it doesn’t deter her from chugging it down.

“You never oversleep like this. What’s going on?” Naruto asks. His pout is petulant, but that look in his eyes contrasts a startling maturity. “I swear, you and the teme.” And Sakura cringes. She never wants to be paired with him. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he’s practically falling asleep in the middle of training lately. He must have insomnia or something.”

Sakura can’t help it, she snorts mockingly on reflex. “Sasuke half assing his training? Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“Sakura-chan.” Naruto reprimands.

“I know,” Sakura says quickly. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, and the feeling genuine. But the sincerity gets lost in translation. She is just too tired.

There’s a pause and she chances a glimpse of Naruto’s face. His expression is rigid. “He’s cutting again.”

Sakura violently flinches, as if she just took a punch to the gut. And she thinks she would have preferred one than those words. She tries to rectify her spill of emotion, eyes falling past the window while she cloaks herself with a cold veneer.

“He was always cutting,” she says. She ignores the heaviness dragging her head to her heart and her heart past her crooked floorboards. “For all we know, he never stopped.”

“He did,” Naruto promises. “His wrist was clean when he first came back. I saw. He wasn’t wearing anything to cover it. He started up again.”

She doesn’t want to talk about this. Anything but this. “We’re shinobi. Everyone cuts.”

“You didn’t say that when you found out I did it. Ino either.”

The corners of her mouth pinches. “That’s different.”

His voice is accusing, and the narrowing of his eyes even moreso. “How?” He asks. “How is it any different?”

“You know how,” Sakura bites out, undeterred, meeting his glare with one of her own. Her head is spinning.

“This isn’t you, Sakura-chan,” Naruto says with a certainty that makes her sick. His hands ball into fists. “I know you care about him. So quit acting like you don’t.”

“I’m not acting like anything.” She tries to regain her composure because she knows she doesn’t even look the part. Her hands are trembling.

“Bull shit!”

She makes a noise, something between a moan and a growl. “Everyone’s fucked up. We’re all hurting. Sasuke isn’t special.” And a voice in her head laughs mockingly at the lie. But she perseveres. “Why should he get a pity party?”

“Because he’s our teammate,” Naruto grounds out. “And at one point, it wasn’t just me who seemed to care about that!”

Sakura rolls her eyes, fights the urge to defenestrate him with her clenched fist. Maybe she didn’t do as much as him for Sasuke, but she did more than enough to warrant a lifetime of reprieve from everything Uchiha.

“Just stop, Naruto,” Her voice comes out smaller than she wants it to. “Why do you have to bring him up when you’re with me?” She wraps her arms around herself. Her hands are clammy, head sore. She imagines she’s blue in the face. Her mother was too, when she had found her dead on the bedroom floor, lying in her vomit. Sakura just wants to sleep. “Gods, you can be so damn inconsiderate sometimes.”

“I’m being inconsiderate?” Naruto bites out, challenging. Fury surges through her.

“Yes, Naruto!” Sakura shrieks, voice shrill. “You’re making it about him! You always make it about him!”

“Well someone has to, you sure as hell don’t!” His chakra springs out, scalds her. There’s a white-hot ringing in her ears. Sakura is surprised she’s not vomiting. She wants to. She wants to be purge all of it.

“Why the fuck should I? What has he ever done for me?!” Sakura cries, battling the noise inside. Her head is pounding.

“He’d do a lot if you actually gave him the chance to!” Naruto is shaking and Sakura feels sorry. But then something in his face changes, like someone has blown out a candle. He closes his eyes and exhales deeply. His chakra ebbs, his features soften. And she thinks this must certainly be a divine punishment—watching Naruto shed off his turbulence better than she could ever hope to.

“He’s trying, Sakura-chan,” his voice is pleading, soft. And Sakura’s heart aches for him, but it’s also soaked in a crimson that isn’t her own. “Sasuke finally wants to be happy. But he needs us. We’re the only family he’s got and he needs us. Needs you. But you…” His eyes are hurt and confused. They condemn her. “You don’t even want to be in the same damn room as him!”

“Because I can’t be, Naruto. Why the fuck can’t you understand that!?” Sakura clutches at her head, nails scraping. Her tear ducts ache.

“Yes, you can!” Naruto groans. “Sakura-chan, if this were anyone else, anyone, I would’ve let it go by now.” Sakura nearly howls in laughter, ever special in the ways nobody wants to be. “But you’re Team 7! And so is he! And shit, you just need to talk to him already, dammit! It’ll be better when you two just talk—I know it!”

“It’s not that easy, okay!?” She blurts out, voice strangled.

He looked at her with those big, blue pleading eyes and Sakura feels so sick. “Did you really help me chase after him for years just to ignore him?” His voice is so gentle, it’s unnerving. She looks away, wishing someone on this nightmare team knew how to let things go. “He’s suffering and—”

“I’m suffering!” Sakura screams and the ringing in her ears is like red circles against her temple. “And maybe I’m not some long lost spiritual brother of yours, but I’m your friend too! And the least you could do is fucking respect my grieving!”

“Grieving what!?” Naruto is exhausted, eyes rolling as he throws his hands up in the air. She wants so bad to smack him right through the wall then and it takes every bit of her self control not to.

“Grieving the fact that I was obsessed with a selfish man that took everything we gave him and threw it right back in our faces!” And she knows. She knows these words aren’t her own. But they’re words she’s heard a million times and what else was left to do but believe them?

“If that were true, he wouldn’t be in Konoha right now!” Naruto growls. “Sakura, you’re being so unfair to him, this—this isn’t like you! You never used to talk about Sasuke like this! You understood his hurt!” Sakura feels her teeth clench, because she still does understand. And that’s exactly why she is so afraid. “And teme—teme would do anything for you. The bastard loves you!"

Sakura feels her mind splinter. "Loves me?" Her voice is bathed in vitriol and accusation.

"He tried to kill me! He put me under a genjutsu where he actually did fucking kill me.” If she applies any more pressure to her grip, her bloody nails will push right past her cranium. But maybe that will stop her horrible headache. She wants to scream.

“I see his—his fucking chidori in my chest," Sakura looks directly into his eyes, and she holds him captive this time. "I even see you, Naruto!—my best friend—Dead! Dead because our ex-teammate had the longest fucking psychotic break since Madara fucking Uchiha!” Now she is screaming. “And just like his bat-shit incarnate, he thought it might be good idea to murder his 'best friend' in the most backwards pursuit of peace!” Sakura cries. “Itachi’s influence be damned, he should have known better!"

Naruto's eyes don’t lose their fierce determination, but his mouth wobbles. She hopes he’s being torn open the way she is right now. And she hates herself for that—that despite all her love, she is still so angry at them all. Her cheeks are wet. Her brain is spasming in her skull. "That piece of shit doesn't know a fucking thing about love!"

Naruto is quiet for a moment and Sakura is coiling in the aftermath of her ruptured visage. When he speaks his voice is tentative, carefully craning out of the muck. “How could you say those things?” Sakura is certain she would vomit if she had anything to throw up. “You were with me through all of it, Sakura-chan. Every time someone said something about him, you were with me. Because you know teme! You always knew he was good! You were with me, you were with us. And now you’re making out like he’s the bad guy when he’s finally here and how—how could you be so—so—rrhhhh!"

Sakura is sobbing, eyes burning because she’s too dehydrated to be crying right now. She hates how a part of her agrees—knows Naruto is right. That part is furious with her too. But she saw his eyes when a nin from seven years ago raped her, Ino's dead boyfriend still had his smirk, otousan was murdered by a kunoichi that snapped and she found okaasan dead on the bedroom floor.

“I’m so fucking sick of hearing about Sasuke,” her voice is a pathetic whimper between her heaves. “Just get the fuck out, Naruto.”

The next day, Sakura is called into the hospital only a few hours after she had just left. “I’m really sorry about this, Sakura, but we’re desperate,” Tsunade says, the amber of her eyes as dull as Sakura feels. She hasn’t slept either.

“You don’t have to apologize, shishou. I’m happy to be here,” Sakura replies, more tired than she’s ever been in her life, but pitifully grateful for the distraction. She gives Tsunade a weak smile while setting the blood sample up under a microscope. Tsunade’s hand squeezes her shoulder in thanks.

It isn’t rare for sick shinobi and wealthy civilians from other lands to come to Konoha for medical attention, and it’s always Tsunade or Sakura tending to them. But it is rare for Tsunade to enlist Sakura on the job because she actually needs the help.

In this case, it’s a clan that was targeted. Two shinobi who had been poisoned were transported from Iwa. There are also two other carcasses sent with them, both who had already passed from the same poison’s effects. A team of medics, including Shizune, are currently performing an autopsy on a dead woman and—to Sakura’s disgust—a dead child.

“It almost looks like blood cells themselves,” Sakura notes aloud as she stares under the microscope. “I’m impressed they even identified it as a poison so fast.”

“Not fast enough,” Tsunade corrects. “A quarter of the clansmen are already dead because of this toxin.”

“Wait, what?” Sakura looks at Tsunade, utterly baffled. “How?”

“All we know is that it was in the water supply.”

“I thought tensions were low. Who are prospective assailants?” And for a moment, Sakura thinks of the bandits that she previously discussed with her peers. But this clan is located in the crest of Kiri, nowhere near Suna or Tani.

“There’s nothing we currently know that can clue us in on the nature of this poison,” Tsunade explains. “So just focus on the sample. We’ll go over details later.” Her shishou’s voice is becoming increasingly agitated. Sakura’s sure context could help her analysis, but her juvenile need to please is not quite dead yet.

Sakura orders an assistant to prepare several rats and mice for testing, while she takes great pains to carefully extract the poison from samples of infected tissue and blood.

Gentle pats of affection and soothing chakra has the critters effortlessly docile. She’s thankful for their cooperation, and the smile she wears is tense and morbid when she injects each of them with a venom that will ultimately result in their deaths. And she can’t help but wonder if she’ll be this calm when fate sticks a well-deserved syringe in her too.

She traces the line of a red streak along her wrist with a nimble finger. A pretty scarlet outlined with pink. It has finally stopped bleeding, and she knows that if she applies too much pressure, it will start again. She chooses to be gentle.

Sakura doesn’t cut often. She doesn’t even like it. There is no euphoric release, no distraction from the red monologue of her life in bringing a blade to skin. She could cut until there was no blood left to spill and she’d still cry only from the heaviness of her heart, not her wounds.

But there is this. The pretty scarlet outlined with pink. It’s shallow, and it stings but it reminds her of something that once was, hidden in the crimson. She’s sure if she digs the blade deep enough she can cut the remnants of him and her from beneath her skin. So every now and then she tries.

Sometimes it reminds her of the hospital, of shifting the pink and brown and yellow organs around to stitch something up or remove something ugly and black. There’s a lot of red there too. Much more red than she sees now. She can almost taste antiseptic and it makes her feel clean.

Sometimes it reminds her babies, newborns coming out that are grey and pink and very beautiful and very ugly. Their faces are smudged with blood. But their mothers smile at them anyway because they are life and there must be something endearing about that.

Sakura wishes okaasan could have smiled at her like that too. But she doesn’t blame her. There was death between her mother’s legs instead of birth. Sakura knows because it’s genetic—she has death inside of her too. It took her seventeen years to realize it, when a purple-eyed nin spread her open. But the black was always there—nestled in secret.

Sakura winces. Velvet crimson runs down her pale arm, lucid against the opaque blue in her veins. She pressed too hard. Sakura smears it along her skin, trying to erase it. The pain is a sharp pulse inside her wrist, her head. The crickets outside gently chirp.

Sakura hates the red. She does. Because she can never seem to escape it and what’s worse is that she isn’t always sure she wants to.

Because she loves it too. She loves how the red blends with her clothes and brightens her viridian, compliments it even. She loves the red for its passion—the way it’s birthed from vehemence and how it demands to be acknowledged. She loves the way the red of his kaleidoscope eyes entrances her—even as he is about to paint his hands the same color.

Sakura exhales, drags her legs close to form a meditative stance. She’s losing it, she knows. Has popped her head like a red balloon. She wasn’t mercurial during the war—wasn’t allowed to be because everyone around her was wide-eyed and shaking and she was the medic. But it eventually caught up to her too. She is always slow, she knows, when it comes to keeping up with her beloved Team 7. But sure enough, she gets there.

Okaasan told her not to become a shinobi, once. You’ll murder all of us. Just like that Uchiha boy. Is that what you want? Tousan said nothing during the conversation. And that alone gave him away. She hates it when her okaasan is right.

Sakura closes her eyes and settles herself upright, using the deformed headboard for support. She tries to picture nothing, breathing the stillness of her room. Her wrist stings.

She wishes Ino could meditate with her because Ino’s chakra feels so good. It’s cool and inviting, nurturing in a way that was both intimately close and respectfully distant. Kakashi’s chakra feels like a watered down version of Ino’s, slightly unsettling at times. It carries his chasm of guilt, she found, when she had healed him during the war—his gaze lost somewhere between finding and losing Obito all over again.

Sasuke’s chakra felt good at one point too. It was never friendly, but it was fond—protective somehow. Like it was keeping her secret, only Sakura didn’t know what that secret was.

But these aren’t thoughts Sakura wants to have.

She inhales and exhales and stubbornly tries again.

#sasusaku #fanfiction #ghosts #homemade trauma soup #efs writes

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mirage-krp · 4 years

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The guardians welcome [SHIN, JISEOK] to the city of Jeonseol. He is [UNDEAD] currently living in [CORAL] and working at/as [AN ASPIRING SINGER]

Welcome to Mirage! Please follow the admin twitter within 48 hours of acceptance, or your faceclaim will be freed up.

Faceclaim: Jeon Jungkook, bts

Name: Shin Jiseok

Nickname(s): Ji, Seok

Age: Physically 22, actually 37

Date of birth: September 1st,1982

Species/myth/cryptid/etc:

Undead

Jiseok was brought back by a Necromancer. He has the scars from how he died as a constant reminder his heart only beats because someone took pity on him due to his untimely death.

He cannot fall ill, because he isn’t technically alive. He’s also immortal, but can be killed if enough damage is done to his body. If he wanted to, he could survive without food and water for longer than a human could, and he feels little to no pain compared to other beings.

Weaknesses:

Prone to lethargy every now and then, he needs to sleep for about 24+ hours to rid himself of the feeling. Also always tired. He often has nightmares of his own death and as a result, tends to not get much sleep in general.

Not so much a weakness as a health problem: depression. He falls into a deep hole from which he can’t claw his way out on his own.

Skinship. Hugs, hand-holding, there’s just something about skinship that makes him feel a bit more alive.

Residence: Coral Houseboat 004

Occupation: Aspiring singer

Personality:

Jiseok uses humour as a coping mechanism. If he makes a joke out of the things that bother him then they have less impact on him, at least in that immediate moment.

He likes to deny there’s more to him than what you see, it’s easier that way. If Jiseok can remain the ever smiling, forever joking aspiring singer he so desperately wants to be, then he’ll be okay. He can continue ignoring the issues looming over him which he’s unhuried to sort out.

He’s also very honest. He believes that even though the truth can hurt, it’s better to be wounded than ignorant. Wounds are easier to treat, ignorance not so much.

There is a more somber side to him which doesn’t make many appearances. He can be very melancholic and negative, which he finds no fun at all and so he tends to hide that side of him out of fear he might bring others down with him.

Background: TW: death

As far as Jiseok can remember, he lived a good life before it ended.

He grew up on Jeju Island in a family of five, two sons and one daughter. With him being the oldest he often spent his time watching over his younger siblings. Sometimes it was tiresome, he’d rather be out with his friends or catching up on studying, but he did it for his parents. They worked hard for their children and he felt it was only right for him to repay them as best he could.

In 2004 the Shin family went on vacation. It was an extravagant Christmas gift to themselves, one whole week of luxury in Thailand, no work, no school, and no worries. Jiseok had never been out of the country before and the thought of flying made him uneasy but he was coaxed onto the plane with an early christmas gift, a new iPod Mini.

What he remembered most about Thailand was the day after Christmas.

He was watching the sky as he lay on a lounger by the pool, the sun shining down on him, the clouds slowly passing by, he was cloaked in a feeling of pleasant warmth. The headphones he was wearing drowned out most of the noise around him: other families playing in the pool, his younger siblings nagging their parents to join them in the warm turquoise water. The smell of sunscreen and chlorine was strangely pleasant to him. Everything was just right, it was exactly how he’d imagined a vacation to be.

The birds, that’s what he noticed first. A large flock of them flying over their hotel, larger than he’d ever seen anywhere else, flying away from the ocean and further inland. That was enough to tear his attention away from his music. He pulled his headphones away from his ears and sat up, directing a questioning look towards his parents. They just shrugged, so did he.

Next was a crash, thunderous and louder than anything he’d ever heard before. Everything fell silent around the pool as all the guests stopped what they were doing. Their attention was on the ocean now, which had seemed so far away just moments before but was now too close for comfort. They all watched in a curious daze as the horizon was swallowed by a giant wave. Most of them simply stood there, frozen, while others started screaming and grabbing their children and belongings.

Jiseok looked back at his parents for a sign, anything to tell tell him what he should do next. Neither of them were looking at him. It was only when his younger siblings started to scream that they seemed to realize what was happening, but by then they hadn’t enough time to think of a plan. Jiseok shouted at them, telling them to run back to the hotel, but the water reached them before they even got anywhere near the entrance.

The current was strong, far too strong even for a confident swimmer such as himself. He was pulled under, deep into the murky brown water, where debris collided with him as he was spun around. Disoriented and panicking, Jiseok fought his way to the surface but couldn’t keep his head above water for long. Soon he was back under again, swallowing mouthfuls of foul water as the air was forced out of him. His lungs felt ready to burst and a sense of dread gripped at his being as he was left with one thought. I’m going to die.

Bystroke of luck, he managed to grab hold of a fallen palm tree being dragged along by the current above him. The air was more than welcome and he greedily filled his lungs with as much as he possibly could. There was no telling when he might be without it again. The sound of water was deafening but he could still make out the terrified screams and desperate cries for help. There were a few times he thought he could hear his own name, but try as he might he couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. His throat felt raw and his voice was hoarse but he called out anyway, going through his family’s names over and over, hoping at least one of them might be there.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself out of the current and into the shallows. The clay coloured water around him was speckled red with blood oozing from cuts, some significantly deep, others simply scrapes. Before, his adrenaline had been keeping him awake and numb, now he was beginning to calm down he could feel every scratch, bruise, and broken bone. His ankle was a nasty shade of purple, swollen and at a weird angle. His face stung, his arms and legs were covered in cuts, and his shirt was torn showing bruised ribs and a gash in his side. Exhaustion was setting in, it was all he could do not to sink to his knees and stay like that, but he had to find his family.

He had no idea where he was, nor how far he’d been swept away. The only thing he could see was ruin: buildings destroyed, abandoned cars turned upside down, trees completely torn up, roots and all. What bothered him most were the bodies. They lay completely still among all the debris, tangled in vegetation, crushed by rubble. Jiseok could only hope his family wasn’t among the dead. With an aching ankle and a stinging side, he limped his way through the knee-deep water, tripping and falling but never failing to get back up again, pushing himself forwards, fueled by the hope of finding his family.

As the sun was setting, Jiseok fell once more and this time he couldn’t get back up. After hours of searching and shouting, he was drained of all energy. Feeling so incredibly dizzy from blood loss and the heat, he lay in the muddy water and wept. Deep sobs he could barely afford to waste the energy on but he couldn’t stop them. He was alone and hurting, with no way of knowing if his family still lived or if the wave had taken them.

Once he could cry no more, Jiseok closed his eyes. Not long later he was found by a rescue team, who then carried his lifeless body to a hospital. He lay outside covered by a sheet, until his family reunited hours later and were asked to identify him. Eventually the family of five, now four, returned to Jeju Island where they buried their oldest son. Shin Jiseok, age 22, taken too early.

Days later, Jiseok opened his eyes once more. He stared into the face of a person he didn’t know, confused and aching all over. Every muscle in his body felt stiff, as if he hadn’t moved at all in quite some time. Which, he came to find out, was exactly the case.

The stranger, who claimed to be a necrormancer, explained everything to him. How his family had buried him, held a funeral for him. How he’d died in Thailand on vacation. How the necromancer had heard of the tragedy and thought bringing young Jiseok back would be a good deed. It took the newly resurrected 22 year old a long time to properly process what he was being told. It all sounded so bizarre, like the plot to a book or a movie.

For a while he stayed with the necromancer. Returning to his family wasn’t an option, no matter how much he wanted to see them again. They buried him, mourned their loss, and made peace with the fact their oldest son was gone. Jiseok turning up out of the blue would only cause confusion and harm, or so the necromancer told him.

In December 2019, Jiseok and the necromancer parted ways. He received an invitation to a live in a city named Jeonseol, where he wouldn’t have to pretend to be normal when around others. He could be honest about who he was, where he came from, and what happened to him, which was a thought that gave him a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Any wanted connections?: The necromancer who brought him back, preferably someone older than him!

#( mirage : accepted )#( fc : jeon jungkook )

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windmilltothestars · 7 years

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I finally finished the Defenders today! Time for some spoiler-tastic Scattered Impressions and Questions and Whatnot under the cut.

-K’un-Lun. We know it’s gone somehow, but has it actually been massacred, or just the portal is inaccessible? Elektra claims to have killed everyone there, but she might have just been saying that to get Danny riled enough to activate the Iron Fist. I’d like to think it’s still out there and Danny will be able to go back at some point and talk to his old friends, possibly explain things to them, but who knows? If he’s taking over vigilantism from Matt, New York’s his priority, and probably still THINKS there’s nothing left there because of Elektra’s claims, even if they WERE false.

-Elektra. Augh. I can’t get myself to like her. I think it’s very noble and and shows great heart and loyalty for Matt to never give up trying to save her and find the good in her, but - I couldn’t see it, man. Like in the beginning she was totally brainwashed and that was more understandable that he was trying to get her to go back to herself, but when she broke free and still wanted to murder everyone and support the Hand’s goals? Unless there was lingering brainwashing nonsense, I just gotta say -- Matty, she’s not good for you. Unclear if she survived, but I’m not necessarily looking forward to her return

-Murakami was by far my favorite Hand boss. Not even sure particularly why, just his continual snarky disregard for Alexandra, the fact that he only ever spoke his native Japanese and always tried to fight alone - it showed a kind of endearing pride and independence and arrogance that I found deeply entertaining. He was introduced dissecting a bear he had hunted and killed in hand-to-hand combat for kicks, and he lost pretty much every fight because fought alone people got the drop on him, but I loved him. He got impaled and had a building fall on him, but with those Hand guys, you never know how much it takes for perma-death, so I can hope he’ll be back. I felt like he showed a lot more actual personality than his lieutenant, Nobu, even if he got off worse in fights. The rest of them I could take or leave. I liked Sowande and Bakuto OK, nothing special, was generally annoyed/creeped out by Alexandra, and would be almost sorry to see Madame Gao go after all this time, as her enigmatic menace has been here since season one of Daredevil. It’s likelier that she survived that collapse than Murakami, if either did.

-I know next to nothing about Heroes for Hire or Daughters of the Dragon, but I’m here for them. I thought Luke and Danny’s friendship was gold, and Colleen and Misty were getting there. I think it’s possible Luke and Jessica will get back together, after that last scene. Luke and Claire seem solid, like, practically-married solid, and I wouldn’t want to rob either Luke or Claire of one thing going right for them, but - I don’t know, man. Luke and Jessica are a happily-married superhero family with a child in the comics, I hear. And that would be adorable. We shall see, we shall see. Jess deserves something going right for her, too. I definitely want Danny to stay with Colleen, though, and not randomly get paired with Misty in the name of comics-accuracy. She seemed so much older than him, and his dynamic with Colleen is sweet and solid.

-On the other hand, I could consider Jess with Matt, and their snarky frienship was really entertaining and refreshing. I think ultimately I prefer them as just friends as well, but of course that’s what I used to say (and sometimes still do) about Matt and Karen. I would definitely have to use the ship name “Mess” for them, and there dynamic was fun and sweet in that after a fashion, they stopped judging each other and worked as respectful team unit, with more affectionate banter. But nah, I’ll hold out wild crazy out-there longshot hope that Matt gets together with Natasha Romanoff, just because. I need to stop with my internal shipping wars because it’s going to get silly, and I’ll probably revert back to my lingering sentiment for season one Matt with Claire and Karen with Foggy, which opens up more messes with Luke and Marci and things, so -- let’s end this.

-Matt’s not dead, but his friends think he’s dead and he’s probably going to meet his mother, and season 3 is being hinted to cover the famous arc of “Born Again” - which I have not read, but intend to, and know a bit of the gist of. I REALLY want Matt to tell his friends he’s not dead as soon as he can, because it would be a jerk move not to, but Punisher season 1 is coming out before Daredevil season 3, and Karen is in Punisher and I can’t really imagine her just getting a call from Matt all “Hey, I’m not dead” when it’s not his show and she’s dealing with other things. So storytelling timeline-wise, it might be inevitable to postpone, which sucks. Or maybe he lets her know he’s not dead but doesn’t come back to town for a while so she won’t worry about him or mourn for him but she can do whatever she does on Punisher anyway. Or maybe he can’t access any way to contact his friends for a long time? Or maybe he has amnesia? I’m grasping here, I don’t know. I just don’t want another huge Matt’s Friends Are Justifiably Mad At Him fiasco. I was SO HAPPY to see how NICE and SUPPORTIVE Foggy was being in Defenders. He supports him not-Daredevilling and doesn’t judge, and then supports him doing it again when it’s inevitable and necessary, and they HUG and he just wants to HELP him. Karen confused me and slightly annoyed me in one scene, but hopefully her talk with Trish got her thinking about Matt differently. If she’s still an ally to Punisher I have faith she will still be one to Matt in the future.

-Stick is dead for realsies it seems. I’m not gonna lie, I utterly loathed Stick after season 1 of Daredevil, but I was forced with great resistance to gain a measure of extremely grudging respect for him in season 2 and in Defenders. Even if he was going to kill Danny and ultimately allowed him to be captured. He joins a troublingly expanding list of MCU characters I initially hated but was later forced to sort-of respect -- along with Yondu, Ward Meachum, Hope Pym -- but the strength of both the dislike and the eventual respect is perhaps strongest with Stick. Man, what a jerk. I hate him. I don’t hate him. I respect him but still hate him. I don’t know. He’s dead. I’m sure he’s been resigned to his death for most of his life. Rest in peace, you child-murdering punk.

- I freaking ADORED the lighting design of the first few episodes where every character and their scene was continually bathed in their theme color -- Red for Matt, blue/purple for Jess, yellow for Luke and green/muted turquoises for Danny. Like, it just did it for me. I loved the lighting designs with just the symbolism of the red in season one of Daredevil, so the expansion was just beautiful. Also the revelation that Matt can play the piano a little bit (playing a few chords of the theme tune)? Man, I gotta do something with that in fic!

-Obviously, you know, out of the Defenders I’m the biggest fan of Daredevil. I like all of them, but Matt is just my dude. I’m most defensive of Danny, probably, because he is a puppy and he needs it the most, but they all shone in their respective areas, and their team dynamic was just getting good when it ended. I wanted them to act as a team MORE, but I suppose this was more of Defenders Assemble and they’ll be more united in future seasons, if those exist. I wanted to explore different character dynamics, though, between them all. And the fact that they ALL knew Claire! We got a lot of Danny and Luke and a lot of Matt and Jessica. We got a little Jessica and Luke and very little Matt and Danny. And we got next to no Matt and Luke or Jessica and Danny. Anyway, they should all eat more meals together and hang out and be friends and have a “Yay we beat the Hand” party but I don’t suppose that will happen now they all think Matt’s dead.

-It was crazy, sometimes-disturbing action-packed, snarky ride, but I had a lot fun with it. I was obsessed with it, really, and chafed at waiting for the next episode with my parents, so impatient and hungry for it I spoiled most of the major plot points for myself beforehand. But ah well. It was still awesome to see how it came together. If you count how many time I mentioned season one of Daredevil here, you can probably tell I still love it the best of all the Marvel Netflix things, but Defenders was full of heart and soul and humor and worth every second.

#defenders spoilers #opinions #the defenders #personal #long post #mcu

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avidbeader · 7 years

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Voltron S3 Speculation Fic

Here is the next part of the story, thanks to a writing sprint over at the Dreamwidth Sheith community. A few people wanted to know the flip side and here is the start of that part of the plot. I’ve decided I am going for full Shiro/Keith in this one and you see a mention of it in this part. But the rating will stay a T or maybe even a G if there’s no language involved.

Of course, still debating titles.

Part 1

Part 2

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“What do we do, Shiro?” Pidge’s voice was getting worried.

Just like Shiro was getting worried. The plan was on the verge of falling apart: Slav was panicking as he tried to extend the life of his gravity generator, they were having to work harder to keep the Galra command ship in place as wave after wave of fighters emerged, and they hadn’t heard from Keith for several minutes, since he reported that he and Thace were trying to sabotage the control hub as a workaround.

“We can’t do anything. It’s all up to Keith.”

And just as a new wave of fighters emerged and swarmed them, the energy bolts trailed off and the Galra ships began going dark.

Shiro’s heart leaped. “Kolivan! Now!”

“The virus is up! All Galra systems are down!

“Keith! What’s your status?” Shiro called out.

“Almost there! I—” Keith’s voice cut off in a strangled cry.

“Keith? Keith!”

Lance’s voice interrupted his shouts. “Oh, god no! Keith!”

“What? Lance, what is it?”

“An explosion! Blew out part of the hull over here! Keith! Mullet, answer us!”

Shiro felt the blood leave his face. “Allura? Any sign of the Red Lion moving?”

“No, nothing!”

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t Red go after Keith? He’s not…” Pidge couldn’t bring herself to voice it.

“I don’t know! The last time a paladin died the Lion went behind its barrier…the Red Lion is just sitting there…”

Kolivan’s voice cut across hers. “We have to move now, Princess! Activate the teludav!”

Shiro could hear Allura choking back sobs as the wormhole formed above them. He knew because he was doing the same.

<> <> <> <> <>

The four Lions emerged from the wormhole and flew toward the darkened ship.

“Um, Shiro? How are we going to do this without Voltron?”

Shiro squared his shoulders. He could mourn Keith later. Right now they had to finish the job.

“Everyone, deploy your Lion’s extra power! Pidge, take engines! Lance, weapons! Hunk, shield generators! I’m going for the bridge! The second your target is down, go help someone else!”

They began tearing the command ship apart. Pidge was the first to finish, taking out the engines with bursts of tree vines, and moved to help Lance at Kolivan’s direction. Hunk was using Yellow’s armor claws to slice apart the generators.

Shiro deployed the jawblades and began ripping through the ship’s hull around the bridge, imagining that each blow was taking down another Galra soldier or druid. His face was wet with tears.

The explosions around the command ship were growing. Kolivan’s voice sounded through their helmets. “You’re doing great—engines and shield generators are completely down!”

Coran’s voice broke in. “Wait, what’s that?”

Shiro looked around for the source of Coran’s concern, then Hunk spoke up. “Whoa, incoming! Shiro, look out!”

The mental assault struck first, distracting him just long enough for the Black Lion to be seized in the claws of a new ro-beast. Shiro felt Black’s power behind his own, throwing Zarkon out of his mind. Hunk careened into the ro-beast, breaking its hold on Black.

Shiro flew out of reach and got a good look at the threat. It was as big as Voltron but there was something different about it, the way it moved. And then Shiro saw the glowing purple sword form.

“Zarkon! That’s Zarkon, everyone get over here and hit him with all you’ve got!”

Lance’s sonic cannon fired, but Zarkon’s reflexes were too quick—he sent a bolt of purple energy from the sword at the Blue Lion before the cannon’s effects hit him and sent Lance into an out-of-control spin.

Pidge had better luck momentarily: as Zarkon brought up a shield against her first shot, she fired again immediately, binding the shield in place temporarily. Hunk grabbed the opportunity and head-butted from behind, sending Zarkon crashing into the hull of the command ship.

Another mental blast rocked Shiro and this time Zarkon was going after him directly instead of his bond with Black.

You insignificant fool! Do you truly believe you can win? Your fifth is missing…

Shiro cried out as the attack cut deeper and Zarkon seized on his discovery.

Your fifth is dead! You will never form Voltron again! Surrender and I might spare the puny lives of the rest of your team!

Images of Keith flooded his thoughts. The almost feral reaction when Shiro met him for the very first time, pulling some fellow eighth-graders off the tiny fifth-grader. Taking him home to his mother to get cleaned up. The friendship that formed after that. Keith following him to the Garrison and finding his true calling as a future pilot. The gradual tilt from friends to exploring the possibility of more. The look on Keith’s face the night before Shiro departed for Kerberos, when Shiro almost asked him for a commitment and hesitated. Waking up to see Keith instead of a swarm of Garrison medtechs. Keith’s anguished cry as not-Shiro walked away from him during the Blade of Marmora’s trials…

And suddenly Black was there. Black was him and he was Black. He was dimly aware that Zarkon was pushing back the other Lions and turning toward him.

They moved as one. Shiro and Black went straight at Zarkon and shifted as the wings unfurled, sending them into the astral plane.

Shiro charged Zarkon, who was completely unaware of his approach on this plane. He spotted the bayard in Zarkon’s hand, snatched and held on, and moved past…

They shifted back into reality and Shiro inhaled sharply when he saw the bayard in his hand, morphing away from Zarkon’s jagged edges to the smooth finish of the others.

“What was that?”

“What happened?”

“What did you do?”

“I…I’ve got Zarkon’s bayard!”

You mean YOUR bayard!

Shiro shook his head, trying to tamp down the reprimanding thought in Keith’s voice.

“Come on, everyone attack at once! We’re running out of time! On my mark, hit him with everything you’ve got!”

They surrounded Zarkon, herding him against the command ship, and Shiro shouted, “Now!”

Mouth cannons and tail guns fired. Vines erupted and a sonic wave washed over Zarkon. Shiro launched Black into the astral plane once more and brought up the bayard. It shifted into a double-sided battle axe. Shiro swung it sideways with all his might and felt it hit home before Black pulled him back.

They emerged on the other side of the command ship. Shiro could hear the others calling retreat and flew around.

“What is it?”

“He’s going nova! Stay out of the way!” Lance’s voice was shrill.

Shiro backed toward the Castle. “Everyone, inside the particle barrier!”

The others obeyed and braced themselves as the shockwave rattled them. Shiro could just see a clump of wreckage around a body, floating near the command ship, motes of glowing energy rising and winking out of existence.

“Paladins, we need to get out of here!”

“But Keith!” Hunk’s voice was shaky.

“He’s gone. I saw the explosion.” The defeated tone in Lance’s voice shook Shiro.

“You don’t know that he was in that!” Pidge protested. “Keith! Come in, Keith! Please!”

Shiro’s throat hurt from holding in his grief, but he managed to hold his voice steady. “Kolivan’s right. There’s nothing we can do for Keith now. The ship’s power is going to come back any minute. Slav, is the self-destruct on the teladuv ready for countdown?”

“Ready, although the chances of—”

“Now, Slav! Allura, activate the wormhole! Team, get to your bays!”

As the Castle dove into its wormhole, the explosions began, taking down the teludav while lights began emerging on the Galra ships.

<> <> <> <> <>

As the team entered the command deck, Kolivan approached and held out his arm. Shiro grasped it, elbow to elbow, and Kolivan laid his other hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

“He will be remembered. He honored the title of Paladin.”

Shiro nodded, not trusting himself to speak without breaking down. Pidge and Hunk had pulled their helmets off and were hugging each other as they cried. Lance was standing apart, his hands pressed to his face. Allura was sobbing in Coran’s arms and the adviser had a sickly pallor to his face. Slav was curled up in Keith’s chair, a look of fierce concentration on his face.

“Antok and I will return to headquarters and conduct our ritual for the fallen. You are all welcome to join us.”

Shiro’s thoughts were scattered. Was there an Altean mourning ritual? Would Pidge, Hunk, and Lance prefer an Earth-style funeral? There was no one else on Earth itself that would miss Keith, other than Shiro’s parents and a couple of Garrison friends. They, the Voltron team, were really all the family Keith had.

“I…yes. I would like to join you, at least. I’ll ask the others.”

Kolivan nodded. “Let’s go as soon as the princess can transport us.”

<> <> <> <> <>

The ritual had two purposes. The first was to honor those Blades that had died in the name of freedom from Zarkon. The second was to retrieve the actual blades with a magical rite so they could be passed on to new members.

Antok led Shiro to a display of daggers mounted on a wall. He pointed to one. “This was Ulaz’s blade. It awaits its new wielder.”

“I don’t understand. If you conduct these rituals and get the weapons back, how did a blade end up staying with Keith? As far as he knows, his mother was the one with a Galra connection and she died.”

“We cannot be sure. Of course we do not conduct the ritual if we do not know that a Blade has fallen. And even if we did, if the knife was properly passed down it would have a new wielder and would not return.”

“Do you keep records when that happens? When you try to recall a knife and it doesn’t come? That might point toward Keith’s connection to the Galra.”

“We do. It is worth exploring, if it matters to you.”

Shiro paused. Did it matter? Keith was dead and learning his exact ancestry from the Galra would not change that.

Kolivan spoke up from the center of the room. “We are ready.”

Antok led Shiro back to the others. “You may stand here. Please do not speak or move until we say it is safe.”

Allura’s eyes narrowed at that but she held her peace. She was dressed in a formal gown, a crown holding her hair up in an elegant bun. Coran was also in dress uniform but the Paladins were in their armor. The team stood at parade rest while several Blades joined Kolivan in a circle.

Shiro had not known what to expect, but singing was definitely not it. The Blades chanted, the tones moving up and down in a pattern reminiscent of old Earth Gregorian chants. The Blades forming the circle raised their hands slowly, until they were reaching for the stars through the glass dome above them.

As Shiro watched, a beacon of light formed in the center of the room. It brightened to a near-painful intensity before collapsing, leaving in its wake a long, thin, elegant dagger lying on the floor.

The chant ended and Kolivan looked at the blade in confusion. A few of the other Blades began to murmur.

“What? What is it?” Allura demanded in a sharp tone.

“Where’s Keith’s blade?” Shiro asked.

“I…I don’t know! The ritual has never failed before!”

Pidge’s eyes were wide as saucers. “But if his blade didn’t come back, that means he’s alive!”

Shiro felt a wave of dizziness at the sudden warring emotions of grief and hope and horror. “Then the Galra must have him! We’ve got to get him back!”

Antok stepped forward. “Paladins! Stop, think! We need to make a plan. And we need more information to make a successful plan.”

Allura looked at him, her gaze sharp and brittle. “Caution, again? How long will it take to get this information?”

Antok turned to Kolivan. “We need to activate Darvith.”

Kolivan’s expression looked shocked. “Are you serious, Antok? Darvith has been a sleeper agent for decafeebs. You would expose her now? For one person?”

“For the Red Paladin, a member of the Voltron Force. Someone whose actions have already helped take down Zarkon and whose presence is necessary to finish dismantling his empire. Yes, I say we activate Darvith.”

Shiro stepped forward. “Who’s Darvith? And what can we do to help?”

<> <> <> <> <>

The first step was to verify the location of the command ship. Allura sent Pidge through a wormhole in a cloaked Green Lion. She reported a colossal amount of debris forming a new trash nebula in the Yggiz Galaxy, but no Galra. Kolivan put the word out among the network of Blades to report the minute there was a confirmed location for the emperor’s command ship.

The second step was activating the sleeper agent. Kolivan explained that many in their ranks who did not succeed in waking a blade chose this option as soon as they reached majority. Their memories as Blades would be locked away and they would be inserted into Galra societies with carefully-constructed false identities. The Blade of Marmora kept watch on what happened to them and, when they were in a position to aid in some major plan, awoke their memories.

Shiro looked up at Kolivan when he paused in his explanations. “I take it that this agent is particularly valuable? You were shocked that Antok would even suggest using her.”

“Not that he would suggest using her, although his caution is extreme. I was surprised that he would do so for Keith. She’s a druid in Haggar’s coven.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open at that.

“Exposing her means that Haggar will almost certainly know of our existence, although it’s possible that she already has an idea from Thace. But Zarkon is down, almost certainly dead, and now is the prime time to strike from as many sides as possible. I would have suggested using Darvith if Antok hadn’t.”

“If you activate her, can she communicate where the command ship is?”

For a long moment Kolivan stared at Shiro and he began to feel nervous. Had he overstepped a line somehow?

“Kolivan?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Part 4

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #sheith #voltron fanfic #fanfic: voltron

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