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beautifully-lumpy · 2 years

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the beautiful person's journal - #4: the troubled production of the late 2010's videos, and my teenage self's concerns

(just gonna give a little disclaimer...i obviously don't know jim personally. in this post, i'll be discussing the SPECULATIONS i had about the caddicarus show's production between 2016 and 19 that i gathered through public information on his social media accounts. these are my PERSONAL opinions! you may have different ones about this era of the channel, but i...was an observant little autistic teen.)

so, i'm pretty sure i've established several times now that i'm a fan from 2014. and if you happened to know me between 2014 and 2019, you'd probably remember that i was very much a proud 2014-15 era caddicarus fan.

and i had a reason to be proud! i came along the same year as the release of the legendary dalmatians 3 video. the channel went up over 200k subscribers that year - from 100k-something to 300k. it went up to 400k in 2015 before the stagnation period. us buzzcut/apartment-era fans were the most populous group of beautiful people before the 2020 reset. the community interacted a lot, the caddicarus show was fortnightly and it was putting out bangers such as the vib-ribbon, playstation cheats, snow white, and cheesy episodes.

but by mid-late 2015, some problems began to arise. there were rising debates in the fanbase about whether or not the caddicarus show should upload more frequently. the ballz and blossom blast episodes were very controversial. and the puppicarus show was the final nail in the coffin for the older community - it sent the fandom into violent fights and debates in the comment section. it was one of the first times our fanbase was truly divided...the only precedent for this would've been the stanley parable tinker time, which couldn't hold a candle to these events.

and after this incident...the caddicarus show became weekly in february 2016, which was HUGE at the time. all the beautiful people rejoiced as this was the first time in history we've had weekly episodes. AND with two bonus videos every week? what's not to love?

well...even back then, i was simultaneously excited...and worried. i was ecstatic about the show becoming weekly, and i was also excited about the channel getting new branding...and as you may recall, my expectations were a bit too high for the latter.

but i was very worried about caddy. this 21-year-old dude who had just moved into a family situation is now gonna have to pump out three videos a week, while staying consistent in quality and being there for his family?

and you know what? i had a lot of fun with season 6 when it came out. i have a lot of fond memories waiting for the video to come out every sunday, and during that waiting time, me and my fandom buddies would create stuff like memes and fanart.

and season 7 was fun too! that month of terrarr was by far my favorite, and the fall of 2016 is EXTREMELY nostalgic.

by the beginning of 2017, he'd moved to the current house and was still keeping a consistent schedule. current quickies was replaced with the caddy show, which had longer videos and more variety. film fridays was replaced with cinemaggots but it was still a show about movies nonetheless. and hey! even after all the other shows were phased out in 2016, there was still something for everyone on the caddicarus channel! don't like the monty python madness on the caddicarus show? check out the slower-paced caddy show instead! don't like video games? well, cinemaggots is the show for you!

season 8 was still great, but it wasn't as great as the two preceding it. well, surely things can only get better, right...?

season 9 was...a season alright.

sure, after re-evaluation i like it a bit more, but at the time...woof.

and this, my friends...is where i personally thought the cracks began to show.

i was thinking to myself at the ages of 15-16 in 2017-18 - why does jim feel like he needs to appeal to everyone? yeah, he has to make money and pump out these videos to feed his family, but is that really working? look at these view counts! they don't even begin to halfway reach the sub count! people aren't tuning in like they used to! the charm is going away! does jim not realize that the caddicarus show used to be an event? in 2014-15, if i got a notification on my phone for a caddicarus upload that said "... - caddicarus" at the end of the title, my ass dropped EVERYTHING i was doing. the caddicarus show was SERIOUS business.

who in god's name was itching to watch drive thru reviews?? film fridays?? tinker time?? most people who subbed to caddy were coming for the caddicarus show. but when he makes it weekly, not only does the feeling of it being an event go away, but it becomes routine and formulaic along with the other shows. every episode has the same structure, with these repeated jokes sprinkled in. "here's a crappy kids' game, here's me analyzing it in-depth for 20 minutes, obligatory content creator friend saying 'CADDY i played this WRETCHED game on my OWN channel, PLEASE caddy you are going to DIE if you play this', obligatory miluk reference, obligatory side character cameo for obligatory lore, here's me shooting the crappy kids' game, please remember to stay beautiful." this mindset is ultimately weakening the show. i can guarantee if he changed up his format and made the caddicarus show fortnightly or monthly again, the quality could go up AND his mental health would improve. please jim. we're worried about you.

...ok, those weren't my exact words. but i'll participate in a family prayer before i show y'all direct excerpts from my 2017-18 caddicarus random book on wattpad.

but those were still the thoughts that were brewing in my head. i was campaigning for monthly caddicarus episodes on my wattpad, i was always worried whenever he'd talk about his mental health. i thought that the schedule wasn't only hurting the video quality, but also him.

and...my suspicions were correct.

caddy has talked about this on many streams, interviews, and convention panels, such as the arlo podcast and this final fantasy stream; this work mindset absolutely destroyed him. paraphrasing these interviews and panels and streams, he would have mental breakdowns where he'd shut himself away from his family and the internet. he was making videos just for the sake of making them.

of course, when i was 14-16, this stuff wasn't really public knowledge yet. but i looked at clues such as the sub rate which began to stagnate as soon as late 2015, and the view counts of videos which began to suffer. caddy had thought he needed to pump out more videos to have his channel perform better, which obviously wasn't the case. he was stuck at 500k for over two years...these days, he takes about 8-9 months to gain 100k subs.

so now that i know a lot more, i understand fully why the quality of the show slipped.

i stopped watching in march 2019...and from what i was being told by a fandom friend who kept updating me on what was happening, things weren't really improving as much. december 2019 was one of his worst months for mental health. looking at this capture of his socialblade, he was bleeding subs in may 2019 and it was one of his worst months yet. that same month, he published the now-unlisted PUBG video, which was extremely divisive. it was also the same month where he tried to start a new film review show that he quickly pulled because he realized he was about to fall into the trap of having multiple shows again. and according to this community post and this video, he almost shut down the channel twice in 2019 because of how poorly it was performing.

needless to say, i stayed very worried about him throughout that year while i was pursuing other fandom endeavors. i would just feel sad watching the view counts deteriorate.

this quote from one of the community posts i linked says a lot:

As it turns out, this was more a strategic early move to save myself over anything. I know exactly how I get when I get overworked, and it isn't good. Uninspired, stressed, rushed, even sick - so before I got too into it and allowed to to negatively affect the Caddicarus Show, I nipped the movie review series in the bud before it could get too out of control. I REALLY need to stop letting these ideas get to my head. If I feel inspire to create more, PLEASE remind me to channel that ALL into Caddicarus. I'm insane.

this was EXACTLY my concern with the channel...and here it was being said back to us by the man himself.

i never said a word to him about this stuff. i never tried to get attention, i was never overly angry about it, i just had criticism. but this answer from the 2022 TMG panel just confirms to me that caddy had these same thoughts all this time since 2016...but he couldn't act on them because of the financial situation. and that combined with the mental health stuff...it feels kinda weird looking back on certain years of the show, especially 2019. when i think about the shit caddy was dealing with during the time, it kinda taints them.

here's a comment from jim in the replies of a top comment on the behind the scenes episode. the comment in question was a person reminiscing about the older videos and wishing caddy didn't rag on them so much:

there's a lot of confusion as to why those older videos are tagged as such. but they're tagged for a reason. and it's not just because of the video quality. trust me, i was confused and irritated when i saw he'd done that, but after returning, i started to understand. of course, i don't support him straight up privating or deleting them, but simply tagging them is a good compromise. the thing is, a lot of us have amazing memories with these older videos. and i recall him making a tweet that went something like "the more i hear about my older videos the more i want to delete them", and all the lumpies and germs promptly began telling him "DON'T."

so, the 2016-19 era was pretty rough. but it's good knowing that things did get better from there. jim went through so much adversity and bullshit and it paid off astoundingly. this channel has seen hell, been through hell, and crawled out of hell before its putrid hands could pull it back in. caddy adapted, learned to game the system, stopped caring about numbers and staying relevant, and proceeded to create the best videos he's ever done...while rejuvenating his channel in the process. it had returned to a 2014-like community and sub rate...the sense of community that 15-16 year old me had longed to return. the loving community had faded away after the 2016 changes and i missed it so.

and just how rejuvenated was his channel? well...

just this past august - one day after my 8th anniversary of becoming a fan - he achieved what a lot of us in the fanbase thought was impossible for years. for a while, it looked like he'd never reach it. but with all his determination, resilience, and strength...he made it. and my god, i am so glad i was able to watch all this history unfold.

you are amazing, jim. 💜

#caddicarus #the beautiful person's journal #the BPJ #the caddicarus show #jim caddick #hidden block #hiddenblock

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ysuftswift · 2 years

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New fic!!

get excited!! this friday (8/19) i’m going to be posting the first chapter of my new fic!! it’s been ages since i’ve uploaded a proper story soooo i’m very excited to finally be posting again and i hope you all enjoy it. i’m thinking about making the posting schedule once a week or once every two — more to come on that later. for now, here’s the synopsis for the story!!

Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones were best friends before they became lovers, which made the relationship so seamless. When she gets the chance to go to New York to study writing, there was nothing that Jughead would allow to get in the way of her going — not even himself. He sends her off, even if the act of doing so kills him.

Years later, she returns with the hope of healing things between her and him, desperately needing her best friend back in her life. As she spends more time at home and mending relationships, she finds herself diving head-first into her second book, unable to stop the writing flow she had gone in. Once the finished product becomes a reality, she's afraid it may cause more trouble than good.

it will be available to read on wattpad and archive of our own!!

#bughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #archive of our own #wattpad #betty x jughead #fic #read on ao3 #new fic coming soon #second chance romance #falling in love again #lovers to strangers to friends to lovers

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turabafghan · 6 months

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Hello, This is a guide to my main comic

I also post drawings and comic updates on Instagram, a lot more is posted there as of yet, the link is here

The name is tentatively set to “Beast Within”. It started out as a horror, mystery thriller story, but has since evolved to an adventure epic with themes around war, discipline and hope with aspects of horror still present.

Blurb/synopsis:

In this world, a significant amount of humans are born with an organ that is useless in most cases, but using stress, anger or fear as a trigger it can bring the host to the physical peak of a human as a survival mechanism. Lief "Mukhtar" Adelierre is a 17 year old boy intrigued by the origins of this "manifestation" who finds himself intimately connected to these origins as the wielder of the "Dragon" gene. Alongside others he seeks to find the unwritten history of his world for answers to his many questions but also to form a plan of action regarding the future of this world as he and others like him, good or evil, are certain to shake the foundations of society as their presence is brought to the forefront.

Initial stage development:

The story was first conceived in 2015-16 as a 16 page one-shot for an international manga competition, I would have been submitting it to the Japanese embassy in Islamabad, Pakistan. Initially I wanted to submit an urban fantasy horror comic I had been working on, but after seeing the submissions from the previous years contest. I started from scratch so I could submit a piece with better art, but stayed on the template of horror. My inspirations consisted of Tokyo Ghoul, Majora's Mask and a number of horror films. I ran through at least 2 if not 3 different drafts and was 11-12 pages in when the deadline passed and I never submitted. I kept drawing and my art improved in that summer and I returned to the project when my first semester of High School started. I had new ideas to bring to the project and wanted to give everything a huge overhaul, from story themes, structure, lore, worldbuilding etc. I worked on the story throughout my time at school whenever I could squeeze it in and it has become what it has today. Milestones have been reached and Chapter 6 is in development.

Upload pattern:

I will be uploading things bit by bit, with rough drafts, character design work I did (for the current version of the story and its precursors) and uploading pages of the cancelled precursor comics since I want to show them.

The current draft is 5 chapters long with chapter 6 in development. I will upload the entirety of chapter 1 for viewing first, afterwards about 2-3 pages at a time. I will try to post one of these each week on Fridays. Please understand that when the posts catch up to where the story is currently, I will not be able to post pages at this rate per week. It may change to a post every 2 weeks or a post each month with a specific date (such as the 10th or the 14th of each month), I will notify in advance when this happens.

I will also not likely be posting everyday as I have other responsibilities to attend to but will notify if there are any major hiatuses that need to be taken. A hiatus from the comic also does not necessarily mean I will stop posting entirely. Not every post I make will be drawings as well, it may be snippets of scenes from the scripting as well but I will keep that rare as the main point is to post art. The comic will have a dedicated section in the archive list and not everything I post will be related to it though a lot will be. Sometimes I may post fanart or other drawings I think were done well.

A note for the comic:

This is my first comic that I will be uploading online, though I have made smaller projects in the past. So, I do not expect it to blow up, but if fanart or anything is made or done for it, please do share as I would love to see what you do with my characters (nothing NSFW or pornographic please, I do not welcome that). Just leave a reference to me as the creator of the characters (or creator of the setting if it is your OC set in that world, that character is yours then by all means) is all. I also welcome and will consider any criticism and advice done in good faith provided it makes sense for and is within the scope of what I am trying to achieve with this comic.

Do not use MY art in any commercial sense. If it is something you drew, then of course, use it as you will and you do not need my permission for that. However, please refrain from using MY art in particular commercially in any way. Thank you.

#comics #introductory post #introduction #guide

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dannydehek · 2 years

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Is SEO a Scam? How to Combat Sneaky/Misleading Sales Tactics - Unsolicited Email/Phone Call Pitches

Transcribed using Descript Danny de Hek: Hello, beautiful people. How are you doing? I'm Danny de Hek. Thank you for pressing play and listening to my video. I got to be in the New York Times. I got a whole page on Danny de Hek busting Ponzi scheme that they called me the Crypto Ponzi Scheme. Avenger, what a name. And that means I've actually gained some followers while people who subscribe to my YouTube channel. Danny de Hek: So thank you so much. If you're one of those people, and you may not have seen my videos before, I record them like I'm live streaming. And then I upload them later on. I don't like editing much. I'm also dyslexic. So if you read my show notes and look at the timestamps, cuz you might wanna jump forward to the part you wanna watch, then you might find some spelling mistakes. Danny de Hek: And I really love people who comment on my videos. It's your your choice. You can comment on this video and tell me what you think and if you hit the thumbs up button that tells YouTube you like my videos and it sends it out to the masses. And then I can help name and shame these people that are running Ponzi scheme. Danny de Hek: And that's my main goal. My goal at the moment is to be a full-time YouTuber and it's not easy becoming a YouTuber. So I really value having you here. Now I'm gonna tell you a little bit of a story about something that happened last Friday that was before I was famous in the New York Times. Had a young fella from an SEO company telephoned. Danny de Hek: Now, if you've got a small to medium sized business and you have a website, you're probably experiencing the same thing I'm experiencing. You get in emails every day from people. I delete these emails. The same people email me in two days time asking me if I had a chance to read their emails. So when someone tele phones me based in New Zealand where I'm from and claims that they can do the SEO for my website and don't really understand my business or have they really researched my business it really annoys me. Danny de Hek: So this is the splash screen that we'll be doing today, website design and development companies. Sorry I said that wrong. Website design and development SEO companies. Are you being exploited? Is SEO a scam? Now I'm pretty aggressive to anyone that claims they can do my SEO, but. I take a lot of my SEO for granted because I have some good practices when I'm doing new content now I am everywhere. Danny de Hek: If you go to deek.com, you'll see that website that actually gets between 17,000 to 50,000 page views on a monthly basis. I had a real big spike last Sunday when I was in the New York Times, but that's a lot of traffic and a lot of other people I know will be lucky to get 10 to 15 people on their website every day. Danny de Hek: So what happened? Young guy rung me up and he told me he was from such and such company, like I should know the name of the company and I, I didn't hear it, but it sound official, but I didn't know who they were. Next thing he tells me that, he asked me a question, he said, Have you heard of the government incentive for blah, blah, blah, blah? Danny de Hek: Something to do with, It sounded like he was saying he was either from a government department, Or there was a government scheme where the small to medium size business may get some funding. That's what it sounded like to me. And it was well read. Next thing I said, No, I, I haven't, And he asked me if I'd like a 15 minute free website appraisal. Danny de Hek: And I said, Look mate, I don't need your SEO. Actually, I think you're scamming people by ringing them up and selling them SEO packages. He goes, Do you realize that your website is on page eight of the search engines? Tell Danny d heck that his website is on page eight of the search engines. Just a word of advice. Danny de Hek: So this is my outdoor website and as you can see, that is actually me in the middle of nowhere with a backpack on and I have an outdoor shop. That's me again. These are my photos, Not all of them are. And here's some of my products. So I said, You know, that website that you see in the search result that's coming up in page eight actually sold $36,500 worth of sales last year in 12 month period. Danny de Hek: And I said, You don't know anything about my business. And if you sold me a SEO package with five words, cause that's what they normally do, you would actually harm my business more than bring more traffic to my website. So just to give you a look, you'll have to lodge your screen if you wanna see this properly, but I've done $36,000 worth of sales. Danny de Hek: I'm just gonna rattle off some figures for those people who have Shopify websites, I know what these means. . First of all, I'm up 20% from the year before, which is really good. My average sale was $80. I had 501 orders. And if you go down to the bottom here, it tells me that sales attribute to marketing. Danny de Hek: So I got $15,200 worth of sales from marketing organically. That means I got, oh, I have to work that out. $21,000 worth of sales from organic traffic. Now, there's a whole lot of clever stuff in there that I'm not gonna tell you about, but I only sell products to New Zealanders. And that's pretty good. Danny de Hek: And to be honest, I do drop shipping for a living and 45% of that is actually profit. So if you want any help doing drop shipping, let me know and reach out to me and I'll tell you how to do it. So the young fellow was Tom and I really got stuck into Tom. I told him to go get a job and at the end I told him, I yelled down the phone and said, Get off my phone. Danny de Hek: I'm so sick of it. And then, then I'd started, I thought I'd research Tom and I would see who he is. Would you believe I found a camping store with his phone number on it. And I'm thinking the guy that rung me telling me that my camping store isn't ranking and it's on page eight of the search engines. Danny de Hek: And just for example, if you search for NZ Outdoors in the Google, I actually come up number one and I know that people aren't searching for phrases. That he thinks they are. And if I had five phrases that they normally say as a package and I was coming up on top of the search engines, it wouldn't mean I would generate any more sales. Danny de Hek: So I'm this actually, Tom is a, is a frigging awesome guy and I liked him. I've got to know Tom and his method. So first of all, I thought Tom was working for the company that owned this website. This is his hobby website. So he's taken a lot of initiative and he set himself up a little drop shipping website. Danny de Hek: But at the time I couldn't remember the name of the company he was from. And I'm thinking if this is the type of websites that EO. As producing, then he's got no show of helping or bettering anything I'm doing. And just while you're there, if you are looking at a website like this, these images aren't unique and you should have unique images, but you can right click on any image on the internet and go search image with Google Lens. Danny de Hek: That's if you're using Chrome and what it will do, or go to Google and say, this image has a footprint, let's go find to see where it is. And here we are. It is that image. These are all images of Alibaba and these are rooftop vehicles. And he's basically doing drop shipping as well. And there's the same photo. Danny de Hek: And if you come down here further, you'll see other photos as well. So this was really interesting to me. And if you look, click on the About Us page. There's a nice little story in there about him wanting to basically make your holiday better and all these images that you can see. I actually just copied images and I'm, this paragraph might be his, but this whole website isn't gonna perform very well in the search engines, and that's probably why he is not selling any of these. Danny de Hek: I can look at this website and say, I'll eat my hat if he is actually sold. One next thing, I did a search for a the phone number again, I found another website and I found a website that does website development and also SEO packages. And now I'm thinking, Oh, so this is the company that he was calling me from, but this is a 22 year old guy who set up two websites of his own because he's having a go at becoming a website developer. Danny de Hek: Now, I take my hat off to you, Tom, because you remind me of me when I was young. Now, this image that you see in the background is actually one and a half megabytes, and it's a p and g, and that takes a long time to load faster. Your website loads. The higher it will rank in the search engines. Now, just before I get off my high horse, I'm actually finished on explaining the back of the story as I've got a pie in the oven and the buzzer's gonna go off in five minutes, so I'm gonna get onto the next part of the meeting. Danny de Hek: So anyway, I went to ring back Tom, not knowing where he is from and who he was, and I wanted to say to him, How can you ring me up, mate? I've just yelled down the phone at the guy. How can you ring me up and tell me you're an SEO when I found these two websites you have done. Anyway, he blocked my number. Danny de Hek: He blocked my number because I told him never ever to ring me again. He did the right thing. Anyway, so I, I searched for his phone number, I found him on WhatsApp and I sent him a few more messages and I said, Can you please get your boss to ring me? Meet Kevin. Kevin is the most amazing person I've ever. Danny de Hek: He rung me up and addressed all the issues I had and I can see why Kevin has 25 people up to 25 people working for his company at certain periods. All depends what job. He doesn't employ 25 people, but when he gets a job, he's got a lot of contractors he can bring in to do certain things. This guy really knows how to run a company and he explained that Tom was a little bit shaken after talking to me on the phone and obviously he rang the wrong person. Danny de Hek: But between Mark and myself, we really did discuss, you know, is SEO needed and is is a scam and what services. Does he provide and why? Because I was telling him I just can't stand these companies that ring people up all day long. Cause often what happens is you go to a website development company and say, Look, I want a website designed. Danny de Hek: And they'll say, How much? And you say four. And they'll say four and a half, $5,000. You get your website and you're all excited and you sit there waiting for it to come up in the search engines and nothing happens. So then you go back to the search engine company and say, Why doesn't it rank up in the search engines? Danny de Hek: And then they say, Oh, you need to spend money on an EEO package and I'll probably charge you anything from 500 to $2,000. And then they may even encourage you to spend a monthly fee. Now, if I was ever going to use a company to do my SEO, honestly this company I'm about to introduce you to, I would recommend their services. Danny de Hek: And this is Kiwi. Kiwi website design.nz. Now, I'm not being paid for this at all, but I really gave it to one of their staff members who was a lead generator. I, I had a guess that the guy was young. I, I didn't realize I've explained my story, but the young fellow was awesome. He's having to go developing a website of his own. Danny de Hek: He's gonna learn. The only way you're gonna learn how to be good at SEO is by having it go yourself and find out what works and what doesn't. You can go to these SEO companies and you can you know, spend a ton of money with these guys and get nowhere. And honestly, if you think that your website, what you really wanna do is you wanna go to these website development companies who claim that they can have you coming up when you search for a certain term and you wanna gauge the results. Danny de Hek: that they, you get after they've done some work. So for example, if you went to a company called Evil Genius Stock Code nz, I've just done an hour and a half's worth of tickling up. Cause I noticed that that company had no SEO. And I said to my mate, who owns the business? You've got no SEO. So go in there, get a couple of hours work done, tickle up the website. Danny de Hek: So it's got it's keyword friendly. But you know, when I construct a website, I make sure the images are named. I make sure the content is on each pages. And these website development companies that charge you for a five page website and eight page website, you, they must think I'm crazy. I used to develop websites that were over a hundred pages. Danny de Hek: Now I used to have 45 different rental car companies that used to use my services and I was doing 98% of all their internet advertising and they all wanted to come up in the top. of the search engines. A lot of strategies are needed to actually have that happen. So I used to start writing itineraries about, so when people were hiring rental cars and they wanted to go from say like Christchurch to Auckland, they would be searching for the activities. Danny de Hek: They would stumble across the website, and then they would have advertising wrapped around it. A bit like driving down the road and seeing a billboard advertising a rental car for horror or a jet ski or a boat for her. When you're on holiday, you the same sort of thing really. But I'm not gonna get into that today because this is actually a podcast. Danny de Hek: And this podcast was when I met Mark and I must say I have the utmost respect for Kiwi website design. They they looked after. They just did everything right and I had to eat humble pie and I may be a bit gentler on the next person that rings me up and offer me a ceo, CEO package. So what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna press play. Danny de Hek: The buzzer is about to go off. I'm gonna grab my pie. I'm gonna go cook myself dinner, and I'm gonna let you listen to this podcast and when I come back, I hopefully won't interrupt you much. Also, I'm gonna have a jewel screen, so when they're talking about different things, I will bring up another thing. Danny de Hek: So I, if you hit the full screen mode, you'll be able to watch and see all the graphics on the screen. So here we go. Meet Mark. Lovely guy. So the question here is, are you being exploited by these SEO companies? Do they actually do a good job for you? And is SEO just another scam, or is it getting low hanging fruit? Danny de Hek: The first five minutes, I apologize, I'm probably a bit tired and grumpy, but you'll see the whole conversation really pans out. So here we go. Mark Magcaling: I'm so impressed, Danny, by the way. Honestly, like, I don't know. I know it's been weird that how we met, but like after I looked at your profile and how you've set up everything, it's very impressive. Danny de Hek: Oh, well we try, You learn every day . So it is a learning curve. I mean, yeah, I just I lost my business to Covid, so I used to have a business networking company, tried to move everyone onto Zoom and it was just really hard. Yeah. And so then I thought I'd start doing online workshops and cause I, with my business network and I used to do tutorials. Danny de Hek: Mm. And they were quite cool. And so I thought I'll make them into workshops, but no one wants to do workshops. Everyone's too busy. . Yeah, that's right. So I got a whole lot of gear and here I am and now a YouTube and a podcaster and all sorts of things, which I never thought I'd do. So just gotta make, try to make money out of. Mark Magcaling: But like from what I know about the industry, right? Cause I follow it quite closely. Like the thumbnails, the way you've set up the podcast and the YouTube videos, the workshops, the website, it's all aligned with everything that everyone preaches about. So, and it's very, that I've seen anyone in New Zealand do it, you know, So you, you're very early Danny de Hek: on in my opinion. Danny de Hek: Oh, well, we'll give it a go. I've got I was in the New York Times on Saturday. I got a, in the printed edition. I dunno how I, I did that, but it was so awesome because that's sort of like starting to get a bit of recognition for the work for your brand. Hey, for the brand, for Danny. The brand. Your brand. Danny de Hek: Yeah. Well the nickname me, the Crypto Ponzi scheme. Now I'm waffling on a wee bit here, so excuse me for that. But if you want to go into the description of the video and they'll put timestamps so you don't have to listen to me waffle on however, The start of this is showing, I've never met Mark before. Danny de Hek: I talked to him on the phone for about five, 10 minutes originally on the Friday. And they said, Let's schedule the time, Let's do a podcast. Read the full article

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ringmyheart · 3 years

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Can I request Vin Jin boyfriend headcanons and some fluff? (You don't have to force yourself)

(This and the other vin jin rq were merged!)

Honestly the way I see it, it doesn’t matter if you’re a very calm person or outgoing person. No matter what this relationship is gonna end up being considerably chaotic

He ropes you into everything he does. Doesn’t matter if u r a design student or an architecture student or if ur on the opposite side of the school from him, u r practically in his class. Dating him is like signing a contract sealing away ur own life bc he makes it a point to be ALWAYS w u

In class he doesn’t gaf if the teacher has ur seat on the other end of class, he is somehow finding a way to sit next to u against ur will or not. And when the teacher moves u two away from eachother INTENTIONALLY bc of this, he is threatening whoever happened to sit next to u to trade seats w him. He will go as far as to dress up as them to make it look like they’re them to be next to u and he’s so dramatic ab it.... being away from u felt like u were star crossed lovers whom the world was fiercely against

And if UR against this cuz ur tired of getting in trouble in class, or if you reject any of his advances, he’s gonna be really, really, really offended. He will at first sputter and be kinda shy and embarrassed about it, before he goes “fine! Have fun on your own without me, the greatest thing in your fucking life!”

He move seats back and will glare at you periodically every five minutes to pavlov dog you so that every five minutes every day, even when he’s not there, you feel the burning stare of vin jin

If you’re his s/o, he’ll buy you a matching pair of sunglasses so ur the freshest looking couple around Seoul (they’re hideous and thick but he thinks u look fly)

The glasses don’t have nearly as many layers as his does for himself so u can see, and u wonder how he managed to make them just as bulky and if he did it on purpose to sabotage u. Like “did u make my glasses purposefully ugly so no one else will want me?”

U have to dodge a punch after saying anything like that ab his fashion decisions LMAOAO

He’s rlly proud of u two matching. With the glasses and anything in general. He’ll make you wear a jacket matching his, or the same shoes and he will stop people in the hall and be like “wait. Notice anything cool ab us today?? Cooler than normal??”

And when they don’t respond he boasts “that’s right!! Me and my other half r matching. Look at us and weep, losers.” He thinks u two look so good....... if ur enthusiastic ab wearing matching things too he is elated u have to pray that tomorrow he won’t show up w another “if lost return to Vin Jin” “I’m Vin Jin” pair of jackets or anything of the like bc it happens SO OFTEN

And on the topic of sharing when it’s cold he likes to share jackets and blankets w u. Ur desks r moved by eachother by vin jin himself and u two share one blanket over u and shiver bc he just likes it, sharing w u plus he’s slightly warmer. And yes if you guys had indivizual blankets you would be warmer, but u guys have to struggle together he doesn’t care what anyone says (yes even ur protests ur sharing that one blanket wether he has to wrap it around u himself and tear up the one u brought on ur own or what”

He is so blind in love that he cannot tell when u guys suck at stuff. Like if ur in the wrong he doesnt care ur RIGHT and he’s taking that to the grave. He can belittle u and call u out but if someone else says ur in the wrong it’s on sight

Will die protecting ur name even when ur the one who was genuinely wrong

He forces u to make a beat for him to rap to. He loves rapping and wants to enjoy it w u, so ur forcefed YouTube videos of how to beatbox so u can be his bgm and eventually u probably just start to enjoy it to

And u always start a beat and he starts busting out rhymes and it’s SO BAD. It doesn’t matter if ur good at beatboxing if vin Jin is on the track w u it’s gonna sound terrible he brings the quality down immensely but u two just cannot tell

Like after a two session ur like “omg... that was so good. We should go pro?” “Fuck yea we should we’re better than those posers” “we could rlly make it in the industry fr” no u absolutely could not

During the school festival, u sang with him and it was SO bad. Half the crowd is gonna have 2 be hospitalized but u two had FUN up on the stage

Like I said, he has absolute faith in u. All u do is right. If ur driving a car for the first time, he is going to be ur little hype man doesn’t matter if u suck. U hit a curb and he went “YES babe!! Ur killing it cant wait till u hit the road bby” Ur not allowed to touch a car for the next two years now bc he kept cheering u on when u we’re doing CLEARLY wrong things

On a plane u r looking for the bathroom like pensively and u see a handle and look back and r like “is this it???” And vin jin thinking u r all righteous will go “yea babe go for it” and u open it and u depressurizate the cabin immediately

Now both on like 5 no fly lists

He loves to do things with u, like I mentioned earlier, and things he wouldn’t do alone he’ll do w u. Like drawing alone?? Boring. Drawing w Y/N??!!! Who knows what could happen..... so much fun could ensue. Maybe he will draw u cutely. Maybe he will draw u so ugly u will be forced to engage in a fight.

He likes to play just dance w u and compete for the “greats/all star!” Little titles above, and it becomes like a Friday night ritual for u two to turn just dance on and just go at it. But sometimes he’ll get too intense and suddenly he’s actually fighting for the chance to beat u. Will trip u so u lose on purpose

He makes u listen to him sing and rap to u. And u try to leave and he hugs tightly and is like LISTEN IFS FOR U, DONT BE UNGRATEFUL and now u have to listen

He makes u a mixtape of songs he made himself and they are all considerably worse than “remember the times we had”. It’s uploaded on SoundCloud and all the comments r hate and u listen to it a lot bc u know he loves u sm he made u a mixtape ya ur gonna play that but everyone else hates it w a passion

Like the comments r like:

Daniel: well.... it’s definitely a song 😅 I’m glad you love (y/n) so much!

Duke: he’s not making it out the hood 😐

Zach: never let this man in a studio AGAIN

Mary: this should’ve stayed in the CD

(Y/N): love it! 😍

Zoe: kill your producer 💀

Mira: ...

He’s overprotective too

If someone looks at u for more than a second he’ll go “what?? U think she is hot, huh? I’ll kick ur ass fucking perv.... cmon babe let’s go”

Will throw his arm around u and streer u the opposite way of any potentially good looking ppl to keep ur eyes on him

Oh Daniel is coming?? What a coincidence u and vin Jin suddenly have to turn the corner to the other way of ur classroom for some reason

Eli is near?!!! Oh no u just got milk spilt in ur eye!! Oh no now he has to wipe ur eyes and u two have to leave the cafeteria whatever will he do

It’s not that he doesn’t have faith in u, he doesn’t have faith in other men. Like he thinks they r all competition, and doesn’t doubt ur loyalty rather doubts how good he can b for u

WILL beat someone up for u. If someone smokes while ur around suddenly his fists r swinging at them cuz even if u smoke or vape urself no one else can get that stuff in ur lungs but YOU or HIM!!

If ur crossing the street and a car almost hits u, it’s the cars fault and he’s kicking the license plate and cursing it out for almost touching u “stupid fucking piece of metal”

Is the type of boyfriend to call u when he knows ur in an Uber and be like “babe u got ur gun w u right?? Oh don’t forget ur BOMB and ur MACHETE!! Yeah just left the house I killed some ppl nbd haha anyways HRU what’s ur Uber driver like” so the driver of ur car won’t even think ab kidnapping u. He has got ur back even when u do not want it

He doesn’t want u to see his eyes, so he’ll tell you to look away so he can take his glasses off and look at u in full color in all ur glory but he never tells u WHY he’s telling u to look away u think it’s a weird thing of his, or he’s insecure ab his face which is partially true but really he’s taking his glasses off and just looking at u. Adoringly.....

He hates PDA. He loves PDA. Do u see his dilemma

Like he loves PDA but doesn’t want anyone seeing him vulnerable even u.... so he’ll hold ur hand and be like “EWWW WHAT R U DOING GET YR HAND OFF MINE”

If u take the lead THATS best bc he can blame it on u and it’s ur fault he HAS to lock fingers w u cuz u did it to him first and he has an excuse to touch u and v like u started this im just sending u ur own energy back 😤

The type to be just like blind, overwhelmed in love. Always thinks ab u, always wants to be w u, worries ab u a lot and frets over u without showing it.... he hates it and loves it to death. Despises it but wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world

Eats lunch w u in the cafeteria and if u sit w someone else u r the ultimate traitor and he will trash talk u to hide his hurt to Mary the entire lunchtime. Kinda possessive.... wants u to also only think about him

WOULDNT EVER fight u for real. Play fights occur VERY often, like pillow fights, tripping ur foot when u say a joke insulting him, grabbing ur collar but he would sooner die than lay a finger on u

Verbal fights happen a lot and if he ever like LOSES it he may lash out and almost hit u and follow thru. I don’t think he’d be able to catch himself that quickly, and if he ever did he’d regret it for the rest of his life. Literally until the day dies he will take it to his grave

He may not sputter out apologieswill just look at u incredulously and then at his hands because what had he done? What did he just do? To you???????? (Y/n))))?????? His (y/n)??? Light of his life?

Will apologize probably over text or through a note or call, and if u don’t respond he is consumed by regret and tries to find u instantly like runs back to ur place

If u forgive him he feels bad still, because does he deserve it? And he might just isolate himself for a bit bc he can’t face u and if it left a scar he is dead inside. It kills him, literally

I could go on w this but I’ll probably save it for another separate pair of hcs later 😭

If u guys ever break up he will fight for u again and won’t stop till ur back together like flowers in ur locker every day, chocolate give during lunch, etc. He wont ever give up hope that he can win u over again and be w u again. He would keep trying, when he wakes up his first thought is ur name in a cold panic bc he can’t rest easy till ur his again and he will try and show off and poorly serenade u and trash his price and be corny and cheesy to get u back

Will set up a performance w the school to let him rap w a mic during lunch for u and he’s saying bars like “(read in bad rapping voice w inconsistent beat) (y/n), love of my life, uh, without you I’d die, uh. Please won’t you take me back? Yuh, without you ima have a heart attack. (Wha!). (Y/n), love of my life, yeah, without you I’m in strife, yup! Please be mine again, (babe), I can never rest till then.”

If the embarrassment doesn’t make u take him back so he’ll pls stop, and when he stands up on the lunch tables to do a little performance doesn’t do it either, then the odd sincerity of his voice and pain in his look (even tho while rapping he sticks out his lower lip in a weird pout) definitely, hopefully will

U make everything worth it !! Truly the light of his life

I hope these were what u wanted, I just had fun w them and wrote stuff that came off the top of my head when I thought of VJ!! ❤️

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f2l-hs · 3 years

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One Year Older

Happy 4/13! It’s been one whole year since Failure to Launch started. Thank you for reading!

I had initially wanted to start another, frankly kind of lame project for last year’s 4/13, but decided last minute to throw together a few pages of what would become F2L. I don’t even think I had a name until a couple of hours before I posted it. I picked the name of a movie on June’s wall seemingly at random, only to find in retrospect that it’s extremely relevant to June herself, as well as the greater themes that I’d like to explore. It’s an idea that had been rumbling around in my head since the idea of June became popular. Originally, it was intended to be a visual novel (for reasons that I think will become obvious), but my programming skills are virtually nonexistent. I settled instead for the familiar MSPA format, a decision which I think will pay dividends as the story progresses.

I’ll start with the (relatively) bad news first. The AO3 mirror of the story is going to be abandoned. I’m not sure how many people even know about the AO3 mirror, but it launched simultaneously with the MSPFA version. As I've figured out what I want to do with the story, I've found MSPA format has become integral for the story. There are several mechanics, both currently implemented and planned, that are only really possible with the current format. I will probably still upload Episode 1 to AO3 when it’s complete, but don’t expect too much more than that.

The bigger, better piece of news I’d like to share today is that I’m planning on switching from updates whenever (which in practice has come to mean important HS days) to weekly updates. As of the most recent update, there’s only 76 pages. Granted, that’s more pages of anything than I’ve ever produced, but at the I’m currently going it’d take way too long to tell the story I'd like to tell. So, weekly updates will begin in earnest on May 14th, then every Friday thereafter. (Maybe sooner, but this semester is kicking my ass.) We’re a little less than halfway through Episode 1, so I should hopefully be able to finish it later this year and move onto Episode 2 (aka the Good Stuff).

Again, thank you all for the support. I’d also like to give a special thanks to those in the SHOUTOUT ZONE: Rads, for being the best hype man anyone could ever ask for, Esther, for being extremely smart on all things Homestuck, the rest of the HSWG for their support, Victoria, for making the incredibly useful Pesterlogger, and Misha for being my muse, the president of my fanclub, and the world’s leading Texpert.

Thanks again!

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mcu-fan-fics-blog · 3 years

Text

The Helping Hand

Summary: Y/N Krast Illegitimate Daughter of Tony Stark. Product of an unwanted teen pregnancy. What would Howard Stark be capable of doing to assure his sons future? What will happen when Tony meets our Beautiful, young, genius, rich philanthropist.

Word Count: 3000 approx

A/N: Sorry for the wait I've been a little busy the last couple of weeks. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Next chapter will be Civil war I hope to upload again soon. In the mean time if you have some ideas or thoughts send them my way.

Tw: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug use, Drug addiction, Teen Pregnancy. (If there are any I missed please tell me.)

Ch.7

Chapter 8: Time and Irony Walk Hand in Hand

Ch.9

"Well this is nice…" You say as Natasha drags you along. You see currently you and Natasha are quote on quote shaking a tail. Whatever that means… "Shut up and keep moving." You stop moving and pull your arm away. "Stop Nat we've gone far enough. It was probably just a coincidence we didn't really get that far from the food truck." Finally taking the time to catch your breath. "I think we should get back to the compound. Tony and Bruce must be waiting for me." You say looking around for a cab lucky for you one stopped right before you and you got in.

The ride back to the Compound was quiet. When she's about to make her way in, you stop her. "Nat… I know that didn't go the way either of us wanted it to go but I still had fun. And again what I'm trying to say is that I would like to do things your way, candlelit, waiters, and wine. If you want to of course." You fidget with your fingers waiting for her response. "Y/n I would love to… but I like the way you do things. You're not the Wine and Dine type... I like that." She mentions as she walks back in. You quickly follow suit after she makes a comment about your blatant staring.

Once you stop on the elevator FRIDAY greets you. Telling you that Tony and Bruce are waiting for you in the lab. "Well Nat this is goodbye for now, see you around." You say stepping off of the elevator. Suddenly this weight comes crashing down on you. Remembering what Bruce told you the worry in his eyes. Dread fills your body when you're walking towards the lab. "Guys I'm back… anything good for me?" You state casually trying your hardest not to sound hopeful. "Well yes and no…" Tony states putting the tablet down. "I'm going to be honest with you… your heart is trashed, absolute garbage."

"Way to make a girl feel special." You say with a dry laugh. "But I think we can build something. And with my arc reactor technology we can make it work." He states tapping at his chest. This is where Bruce jumps in "with the help of Dr. Cho we could try and make a new cradle… and use it for its intended purpose this time around. Making a heart powered by the arc reactor." You nod taking all the information in. "Well this is good right? How long would this take." This is where both Tony and Bruce go quiet. "Y/n the process is relatively easy, what's difficult is getting our hands on the Vibranium."

"Which is basically a non existent problem at this point… Bruce is just paranoid, my contact will pan out you'll see." Tony jumps back in clearly annoyed that Bruce was disclosing such trivial issues. "Even if we do get the Vibranium Y/n there's something we don't know… If you'll even survive the transplant." Your eyes meet his and he elaborates. "Your body might not be strong enough to handle it." Suddenly the inevitability of the situation dawns upon you. "Well I'm still doing it… I'm dying anyways. What difference does it make if it's a month from now or five. I'm doing it."

"Well, let not be hasty alright. We can still look for other alternatives." Bruce tries to argue. "Look, this is Y/n's decision. She's old enough to make her own decisions. Plus the more we work on this the higher survival chances are." Tony argues. You clear your throat when you notice some visitors standing by the door. "How long have they been there?" You ask, trying to mask your anger. Pietro and Steve both give you sheepish smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. "Look Y/n we just wanted to make sure you were okay… and by the looks of it you're not."

You stand making your way to stand in front of Steve who had just taken a defensive stance. "Well you're right I'm not okay. Now what are you going to do about it Cap… Other than feeling pity every time you look at me." You say pushing your finger on his chest. "This does not leave this room you understand?" You say looking at both Steve and Pietro. "But, My sister…" You nod "Figure it out pretty boy. Now if you could leave the adults have to talk." They both sigh but take their leave. You turn and notice Tony and Bruce staring, not saying anything. You can only laugh at the sight.

As much as you did want to be mad you couldn't. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your business was now becoming their business. "I just wanted to watch them squirm." You clarify making Tony laugh. "Well I'd say you achieved that." Bruce mentions. "I'll give them til the end of the day. What do you think?" You say looking at Tony. "How much are you willing to bet, Billionaire to Billionaire?" He asks, challenging you. "50 million dollars." He scoffs. "Don't be a prude, make it Euros." You nod. "Best money there is." You say agreeing with him. "I'll hold you to that Y/n." He says as you leave the lab.

Two days later you were busy. You'd been in contact with Bruce and Pepper. Currently you were looking for someone to mentor. Someone you could leave your legacy with. Logan was an obvious choice but you knew he wouldn't take it. "You wanna give it a break Y/n you're not going to find the perfect candidate in so little time." Logan mentions. When suddenly your secretary enters with more forms. "Ms. Krast these are the applications from Midtown Science High. There's only four. Liz Allan, Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, and uhh Peter Parker." You sigh with a smile forming on your lips. "They've got to be here my mentee. These kids are geniuses."

You say as you look through the applications. Slowly crossing off the first two, that Flash kid and Liz. Ned and Peter it was a tough choice until you saw some of yourself in Peter's eyes. "It's him." You say under your breath catching Logan's attention. "Peter Parker… I want him, he will be the future of our company. Make arrangements. I want him to feel welcomed." You say as you start to gather your things. "Send out the acceptance letter today." You say to Logan on your way out. "Will do Boss." He says with a smile growing on his face as he reads the file. Peter didn't have it easy on the contrary he lived through a lot but he still managed to be him.

The next week went by in a blur. Your will and testament were drafted and certified. You were set on that end and now on the other front. You were currently parked outside Midtown High waiting for the bell to ring. When it does a couple of minutes pass when a fresh faced kid is knocking on your window. "Y/n Krast nice to meet you kid." You say rolling down the window. He seems a little nervous. "Come on in Peter. We're going to get to know each other a little before we begin working with the internship." He nods enthusiastically, a small smile forming on his lips. "Tell me about your Peter, I mean outside of what I already know."

"Well I'm what most people would call a nerd. My aunt may always say that's not true but it is." You hum in agreement pulling out of the school parking lot. "Well being popular is overrated anyways." You jump in. "And Ned, my best friend, we're huge fans of you and your work." He says his speed increases as he starts to ramble about how he followed your trajectory as soon as he found out who you were. "Well I'm glad you like what I do Peter but in my eyes were equals. I will teach you my ways and hopefully you'll take over once I'm dead. Keeping my legacy alive long after I'm dead." You say seriously making him settle and quiet down.

"Ms. Krast you can't be serious." He says giving you an incredulous look. "I was an orphan… I was given a chance. Someone believed in me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you remind me of me… and I would like to give you that same chance that I was given." You say sincerely. "Y/n that's too generous… Plus I don't think that I'm what you're looking for. I'm clumsy and…" You stop the car making him look at you. "You may not be ready now or tomorrow but if you let me teach you, you will be." You say reassuringly. "Plus I don't plan on dying anytime soon." You say playfully at the end causing Peter to laugh successfully lightening the mood. "Also another plus for you after this year's audit we'll be working hand in hand with Tony Stark."

At the mention of Tony's name he lit up ten times more than you thought possible. It made you laugh a little but you understood him. "That's amazing. Me working for Y/n Krast and Tony Stark, a literal dream come true." You nod at his statement. The day went by incredibly fast. He was a nice kid, respectful and smart, a little naïve but overall sensible. You went to his favorite pizza place and talked, went to Krast Industries and introduced him to Logan. Showed him his dedicated work space. "So here's your badge, don't lose it. Umm… you'll be here every other day after school, and if you have some special dates tell Margaret the secretary and she'll make a schedule around it." You say as you're walking towards the elevator.

Peter stops abruptly turning to face you. "Thank you really." He then proceeds to rather hastily pull you into a hug. You're shocked initially but hug him back nonetheless. "Don't sweat it kid." You say patting his back. "I'll have one of my drivers give you a lift home alright." He nods. Just before you press the button for the elevator the doors open. Revealing Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. It makes you laugh internally knowing that the young boy beside you just had his world rocked. "Ms. Krast this is real right?" He asks in a high pitched voice. You nod.

"Pepper Tony, I would like you to meet my new mentee Peter Parker." You say nudging him forward. "Hi, you're Tony Stark." He says in a daze. "Yes kid I am Tony stark and you are?" Tony could literally not care less. Until you gave Pepper a look and she nudged Tony. "Alright kid it was nice meeting you." He says overly enthusiastically. Peter takes the compliment either way. "Alright Peter go over to Margaret she'll take you to the driver. We have some urgent business to attend." He nods and waves goodbye shyly and takes his leave. "Right what do you guys need." Pepper clears her throat "Well actually Tony and I wanted to invite you out to lunch."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's get going." You say walking off with Pepper. "You'll be pleased to know that you won our wager. They know..." Tony mentions at the restaurant. You laugh. "Told you!" Pepper gives you a look. "They're worried about you." You sigh. "Pepper, believe me I'm worried too." Tony quickly steps in. "Which you don't need to worry about too much, everything is in place. Everything panned out Dr. Cho was more than willing to help us. So whenever you want." He says again not meeting your gaze. "I was… ummm. Actually thinking we should hold off on that."

"What… why?" They both ask almost immediately. "I'm okay right now." Tony scoffs. "So you rather wait till you have another episode to undergo the procedure." You hum. "Precisely see you get it." Watching their confusion you continue. "I've got things I have to leave ready. Time that I can't take for granted." Before they could argue with you said. "I need time… I-i drafted my will a couple of days ago." You say burying your head into your hands. "It's funny really… how you get things you're willing to live for. And life just comes along and takes it from you." Your mind drifts off to Viv and David. You wipe your tears and excuse yourself. Just as you're about to leave you remember.

"Put the money in a college fund for the kid." You grab Peppers shoulder and nod. "We'll keep in touch." You say leaving the restaurant.

Three weeks later

Pretty early on you noticed Peter's jumpy behavior. It wasn't long till you found out his little secret. Again smart kid heart of gold even, but too naïve for his own good. You'd had one of your AI robots track him after he'd shown up a little dinged up. Telling him you knew took some time. You didn't know the extent of his capabilities, but you'd seen the kid walk on walls and kick some ass.

As cute as he looked in that makeshift costume you had a better one in mind. "Peter I would like to show you something." You call out from your workstation in the lab. "Ward pull up spider schematics please." You call out. "What do you think?" You say as Peter glances at his new suit. "I-i um… It's awesome but who is at for?" He said quickly. You almost burst out in laughter right then and there but you played along. "Well I was in Queens the other day and there was this mugging and some hero came out of nowhere and stopped the mugging." You say as you deconstruct the specks of the suit. Watching as peter gawks at the hologram.

"When I noticed his suit wasn't really a suit, I made him one. You think he'll like it?" Peter nods eagerly, you hum in response. "Alright then try it on, see how it fits spider boy." Peter stands there with his mouth hanging open and you could swear saliva came out. "You aren't that good at keeping secrets kid." You say handing him the suit. "I expect you to be careful, kid." Peter starts to ramble trying to explain himself and begs you to not fire him. You physically had to stop him from pacing. "No ones firing anyone. I'm proud of your kid again, just be careful." Emphasizing the last part. "I will" after all that's out of the way you and Peter spent the day testing out the specks in his new suit. Web slingers and all. Yo I didn't leave until he got the hang of it. It took a while but it was well with the wait.

The next day you wake up to the news seeing a familiar twin on the news. Not good Lagos had gone wrong, the building collapsed and Wanda was to 'blame'. You hurriedly made your way through your morning routine and raced to the compound. As soon as you make it to the common room you can tell something's off. "How is everybody?" You asked Steve who was the first you saw. "I'm assuming you heard about the incident." You don't have the heart to say yes so you just nod. "We're all a little down on morale. Nothing we can't fix." You say, giving you a small smile. You hate that he is down playing this because of your current dilemma. "It wasn't your fault." You say. As you walk off towards Pietro.

"Are you okay?" You ask this time actually worried Pietro doesn't seem like his usual self. "No...It's Wanda. She hasn't talked to anyone she hasn't eaten she hasn't left her room." He says all in one breath. He finally stopped stirring and slid down to the floor and sat. "Its my fault. I-i could've moved faster, I could've saved them." He says defeatedly. "Maybe… Maybe not" You say bluntly sitting in front of him. "You can't go back now. And I know it's a sour experience. You made the right decision." You sigh. "You made the choice that saved the most lives." He nods letting out a deep breath. "I know… I know but Wanda. If I had saved those people Wanda wouldn't be feeling like this right now." You shake your head. "You fail to realize that if you had done that you would've died along with the other victims. Wanda will come around and let me talk to her." He only nods. "She's in her room."

You knock on her door a couple of times… no answer. So you make yourself comfortable and prepare yourself. Your knock every minute or two and you're constantly yelling in your head. Half an hour goes by and nothing. You go back to mentally yelling, when suddenly you're being dragged by the collar of your shirt into the room with the doors shutting behind you. "You're stubborn like a mule." She says not sparring you a look. "Yeah well I'm dying what are you gonna do about it." You quipped smiling at her. She chuckles. Suddenly the light leaves her face. "I killed people… I put people in danger, I put my own brother I'm danger." You nod. "You also saved hundreds of people. God only knows what that gas would have done. So thank you Wanda. You're my hero." You say sending her a smile.

Right when she's about to say something a certain red friend phases through the wall. "You will never cease to amaze me Vision." You say while looking between him and the wall. "You have very good taste in clothes." You mention as you eye him. He smiles. "Vision. We talked about this, there's a door for a reason." Wanda states. "Yes, well the door was open so I assumed…" He says, explaining himself. "What did you need Vision?" Wanda asks cutting him off. "Well Mr. Stark asked me to come and get both you there is a team meeting. With secretary Ross."

#avengers #marvel #natasha x y/n #pietro maximoff #wanda x reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #reader x avengers #wanda maximoff #fanfic #mcufam #stark reader #captain america #civil war

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mystoriesofthegalaxy · 3 years

Text

Need You Now

(Peggysous Week 2021)

Day 4: song fics; @peggysousweek thanks for hosting!

Summary: Peggy and Daniel are thinking about and missing each other while being separated by many many miles. (Set between Season 1 and 2)

Song: Need You Now by Lady A (listen here, this is my favourite version of the song!)

A/N: This is the first time I am writing a Peggysous fic, which is why I am quite anxious about uploading this, but here it is. I ended up writing something with almost no plot and a lot of yearning oops.

Also, English is not my first language so I apologise for all the mistakes and the misuse of words!

You can read this here on Ao3 as well if you like :)

~*~

Picture perfect memories

Scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone cause

I can't fight it anymore.

With a sigh, Peggy ran her hand through her hair and shook her head. It could definitely not go on like this.

Ever since he had left New York, she was behaving so unlike herself that even she found it hard to believe.

And yet here she was, sitting alone in her room, next to the open window, looking outside into the dark street, the shining of the street lamps the only light on that cloudy Friday night.

Daniel Sousa was gone, that was a fact, and instead of feeling miserable she should be moving on and should go on with her life like every sensible human being would do. After all, she should be happy for him, shouldn't she?

It was a big opportunity for him, becoming the chief of the SSR West Coast bureau, and why not take the chance if there was nothing - or no one - holding him back?

She couldn't help but wonder, though, about what could have been, would he not have decided to take the position. Or if she hadn't wrecked it all.

For a second, she closed her eyes, reveling in their shared little memories. All the times Daniel had aped Jack whenever the latter was acting up again, making Peggy chuckle. All the times Daniel had brought her a cup of coffee whenever she had been delving into the huge amount of paperwork that had to be done, that lovely smile of his on his lips when he had placed the cup on her desk.

And then, a certain memory resurfaced, a wonderful memory that was very dear to her and back then had whirled up the feelings in her heart.

It had been the birthday of one of the SRR's agents, and after finishing time most of them had decided to celebrate at a bar. While practically all of the agents had been either playing cards half drunken or playing a drinking game fully drunken, Daniel and Peggy had been sipping their drinks together, sitting slightly away from the others.

The two of them had been talking a lot that evening, sitting close to each other and really getting to know the other. They had talked about their childhoods, he had told her about his three siblings, and she had told him everything she missed about England.

And it had been that evening that Peggy had realised that she may be feeling something more than just friendship for that man in front of her.

But of course she had ruined it all and everything had gone downhill. Why exactly, she couldn't quite tell. Perhaps it had been because of her fear of falling in love again, or because of her fear of losing someone dear to her again. Or perhaps it had been something else, she couldn't quite say.

Her gaze fell upon the phone that was standing on her desk, and for an instance she felt the urge to call him. To hear his voice, to have a conversation like the ones they used to have during their little breaks.

But quickly, she scrapped the idea and put down the receiver she had involuntarily picked up. It was already after ten o'clock in Los Angeles, and he was probably already in bed. And besides, she had already called him once two weeks ago, and once last week, but he hadn't returned any of her calls. For Peggy, this was a clear signal: he had moved on.

She couldn't reproach him, though, that he had decided to move on. After all that had happened...or more precisely not happened. No, she really couldn't have expected him to stay. Daniel Sousa was gone, and she had to get over it.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me it happens all the time.

But despite her thoughts she couldn't help but wonder if after all, he still may be thinking about her once in a while. Because ever since the day she had come to know that he had accepted the offer, Daniel had never left her mind. Even though she had tried her best to distract herself.

It's a quarter after one.

I'm all alone and I need you now.

He had always taken care of her, and she had taken it for granted and had grown accustomed to it, not appreciating his efforts as she ought to have done. But now that he was gone, she realised how much he had grown on her, how much his absence actually hurt...and how much she actually needed him in her life.

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now.

~*~

Another shot of whiskey

Can't stop looking at the door.

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before.

With a sigh, Daniel rose his glass to his mouth and took another sip. This wasn't exactly how he had imagined himself to be spending his first Friday evening off. But here he was, sitting on a bar stool at the counter, deep in thoughts.

The past few weeks had been very busy, moving to L.A. and taking a new position, a leading position, as chief of the new branch of the SSR, which was why he had barely had time to sit down and catch a breath.

But this had turned out to be a good thing after all, because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to bear the thoughts that he had been pushing aside into the deepest parts of his mind.

He had left New York with mixed feelings three weeks ago. He was excited for the new chapter of his life that was starting, and he was proud that he had been offered such an important position. But there were certain things that he was leaving behind that he really was going to miss. Or more precisely a certain person.

Daniel's gaze had wandered towards the door, watching the people who were occasionally coming in and out the bar. Suddenly, the door swung open and a brunette woman entered the room, walking hand in hand with a tall blonde man who was wearing a hat. As she turned over to her companion, Daniel could see that she was wearing red lipstick and that her nails were painted red as well. The way she was leaning against the counter, laughing while the man was talking, painfully reminded Daniel of that certain someone he had tried his best not to think of.

Oh, how much he wished that it was Peggy who had swept into the room that very moment.

No, he couldn't deny it that she was the one thing he was terribly missing since his move. If there had been a slight possibility, a tiny little chance, that she may be feeling that certain connection he thought he had felt between them, he may have thought twice before taking the job.

But apparently it had been all in his head, apparently he had been hoping for something that just wasn't there.

Maybe Krzeminski had been right after all. No girl was going to trade in a red, white and blue shield for an aluminium crutch, he was never going to be good enough for her. They may have worked good as a team, they may have even been friends, but that was it. Nothing more.

And even though being her friend wasn't bad, he had to admit that it wasn't enough for him. He couldn't just be around her and be her friend, it was impossible. The pain was to much, and he couldn't simply turn off his heart and stop feeling what he felt.

So the only thing left to do was to move on and to forget her. But this was so much easier said than done.

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me it happens all the time.

Two weeks ago, though, she had called. When he had left New York, their demeanour towards each other had been very awkward and uptight, which is why he never would have expected to hear from her again.

And yet she had called the office, two times so far, wanting to speak to him. He had been on the way both of the times, which had spared him the pressure of actually having to pick up the receiver and talk to her.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to call her back yet. Yes, he missed her like crazy, even though he had always tried to disregard those feelings. But would talking to her really change anything? Change the way he felt? And what should he have said to her? Should he just have talked to her like nothing had happened? Like there wasn't a 2.500 mile distance between them?

No, he may be behaving like a coward by not getting in touch with her and not facing her, but it was the only possibility for him.

There was a little comfort for him, though, in knowing that since she had tried to call him, she must have not yet forgotten him completely.

It's a quarter after one.

I'm a little drunk and I need you now.

It was a terrible state he was in, torn between yearning for wanting Peggy in his life, his heart completely having fallen for her and at the same time knowing that if he didn't let go of her, he would be feeling miserable forever. And even though everything inside him was screaming no, he had to forget her and move on.

"Great job so far.", he murmured sarcastically and took the last sip of Whisky. Of course he had ordered the very thing Peggy would have chosen if they had been out together.

Feeling how the Whisky was showing its effect and was starting to addle his brain, he picked up his crutch and stood up. He had had enough for the night. With a last glance at the brunette and her companion, he straightened his shoulders and left the bar, disappearing into the dark.

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now.

#peggysous week 2021 #peggysous #daniel sousa #peggy carter #agent carter #need you now #my stories of peggysous

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apples-r-rubbish · 4 years

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John (11 x reader) Part 1

Summary: The doctor was being tracked. So he decided to become John to blend into a small town. It would only be 6 months he said. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: violence mention and knives and angst AN: Hi! First fic ever uploaded to tumblr so I’m excited. Hopefully this is good and isn’t too long. Part 2 and 3 should be up soon. Hope you like it!! Also I wrote the reader as female in this so sorry, I’m going to try to be more inclusive in later fics :,)

It had been 2 years, 3 months and 16 days since you’d all arrived in the 1920s, in a quaint little village in the south. You had also been told it would be a maximum of 6 months you would spend here, and boy, how the Doctor was wrong. He was being hunted, by a species that wanted to harvest timelord energy so they could learn to regenerate. So he’d picked a random village and a random time period, given you all jobs, and rewritten his own biology in an attempt to stay safe.

“I’m going undercover as a human, I’m rewriting my genetic code to stay safe, everything non-human about me will be held in this watch, and hidden somewhere linked to me, there will be another fake one hidden with me or on the TARDIS. I won’t recognise it, I’ll barely acknowledge it, or just enough to the point where fake me won’t think there’s anything off about it.” He explained slotting the watch into a rather aggressive looking head contraption, and throwing a device at Amy “I’m becoming John Smith, a history teacher at a local grammar school, Amy and Rory, your job is to track the thing, it has a unique energy signature with that device. Rory you work in the local hospital and Amy you work in a shop. (Y/N), your job is to keep an eye out for me, make sure John doesn’t do anything ridiculous, or fall in love or in a deep hole he can’t get out of. You’re the secretary at the grammar school,”

You cringed at memories as you sat in bed. Thinking over the last 2 years and everything that had happened since, it was all a distant memory now.

“The TARDIS will be in an emergency state if you need her. I won’t know you or remember you. It’s to keep you safe and for your own good. It’ll be six months, at maximum, nothing to worry about, Ponds, (L/N),” he smiled cautiously as he put the device on his head. The thing connected as he screamed, and shook, the agony in face unbearable.

Eventually, you decided you had to get up so you didn’t lose your job, you put on a dress, strapped a cautionary knife to your leg for protection along with the sonic screwdriver so you knew it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands or just in case the thing decided to attack today. You walked to the school. The village was fairly spread out but with limited people, less than 1000 people, everyone knew at least something about everyone apart from the few of you that had been welcomed two years prior. God how you missed Uber, and being able to go on regular runs without judgement.

When you arrived you stored your coat and bag in a storage room, making polite conversation with your coworkers in your office. John wandered in and smiled at you. “Hello, Miss (L/N), how are you doing today?” He was more posh in this version of himself, he sounded southern and as if he had been educated at the grammar school years prior.

“I’m very well, sir, just a little tired today. How about yourself?” You had also taken this time as an opportunity to sound more from the time period, to blend in and look more authentic compared to your back story that was full of holes.

“Good good, sounds like you need more sleep-” He paused upon realising the implications of his words “I- I didn’t mean anything like that, I meant perhaps-” He was like this a lot, he stumbled over himself. Not as confident as the doctor in far too many areas. “Nevermind, Mr Smith, I knew what you meant. What did you come in here for?” you lips pursed together, when he had his memories back you were going to slap him so painfully hard he’d regenerate. He may have had the doctor’s face however, he was not him. Maybe this version of the doctor had taken a liking to you, more than the actual Doctor ever would. You had to stick close to him so you allowed it, although it was painful at points seeing a man you had fallen in love with, finally acknowledge your existence as someone else.

“I needed to check the staff file and I just wanted to chat with you.” So you talked for a while.

The school day went by relatively smoothly apart from a student vomiting in the hallway, and two students almost getting into a fight, everything seemed standard, as the previous 837 days had. Nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The village was small and were grateful for that, all the shops were local and the furthest house was a 45 minute walk away. Ultimately, you had decided to visit Amy and Rory as you did most nights as they understood the pain you were going through, trapped away from your time period without your family, and closest friend, whilst also being tracked by an alien.

“-and then he looked at me and said I needed to get more sleep,” You said between sips of wine and painful laughs

“I can’t believe he struggles with social interaction more as an actual human rather than a timelord,” Amy laughed, this was the tradition, when Rory was working the nightshift, one of you would visit the other, and you’d laugh and drink together.

“At least you get to see him consistently,” Amy added, “We barely do. Rory sees him maybe once every few weeks down at the pub, and I see him when he comes into the shop or at the hall. You at least consistently know he’s safe and happy,”

“Yeah but it’s not exactly him is it. It’s like you see a picture of someone before you know them, like you can acknowledge it’s them but they’re just missing the odd piece to them, like the smile isn’t quite wide enough or their hair is parted differently. It’s a version of him, without him. Without the timelordy, alieny bits,”

“Maybe so, but it’s something, and we don’t have a lot else right now,”

“God, I can’t wait to wear pants and jeans when we get back to our time,” You said standing and embracing Amy in a warm hug “I need to go home and get some sleep, long day tomorrow, my turn to check. Thanks for having me, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When you had arrived home, that's when you saw him, a boy from the school outside your door, mindlessly staring through one of your windows.

“Edward Gray, dear? Are you alright? What are you doing here?” You asked panic rising quietly through you

Seemingly snapping out of his trance “Huh? Nothing Miss, I must’ve got a bit lost and confused, that’s all,” He said rubbing his temples, the expression he gave you didn’t reach his eyes, as if he was struggling to believe the words himself.

“You might want to get home, make sure your mother knows you're safe. We don’t want her up worrying all night now do we? Run along dear,” You said as you unlocked your house and he turned and ran.

You settled into bed for the night, pulling out a notebook and writing down bits from your previous adventures you could remember, it wasn’t for Amy and Rory you would've been doubting the validity of your stories and doubting that the alien had even existed at all, and wasn’t just a random man from your work who paid attention to you, smiled at your jokes, and whose eyes were full of mystery.

More dreams, more memories, more days. You woke up with a jump, your alarm surprising you. More morning rituals. Breakfast, check. Shower and brushed teeth, check. Dressed, check. Knife, check. Sonic, check. It was a friday so it was your turn to check the TARDIS. It was abandoned in a shed in one of the in one of the many fields surrounding the village that had long been forgotten. She wheezed slightly when you entered, a half asleep acknowledgment of someone else’s company.

“Hello dear, I’ve missed you too,” You said in response, a tinge of sadness in your voice, another sleep wheeze escaped from the console. You replayed the message the doctor had given you. He animatedly explained all the points, once again, like clockwork: village, 20s, hunted, six months, keep watch, pears, stay safe, teaching, secretary, shop, six months. Nothing had changed, you kept quietly wishing for the audio to alter, or the video to change, it never did. It was still the same video, and your alien bestfriend promised 6 months and nothing more.

Somehow, you had managed to arrive early to work. The majority of your colleagues had not yet arrived. In moments like this you had begun reading in classrooms, specifically, John’s. There was something comforting about it, perhaps it was the doctor’s energy. Quiet times like this helped usually, sometimes they made the situation worse, the silence was sometimes unbearable as thoughts of your future life rumbled around your head. You had positioned yourself near a window and pulled out a copy of the Great Gatsby. Whilst you were engrossed in your book, the door opened silently, John slipping in without you noticing

“Miss (L/N)? What are you doing here?” He whispered, his eyes staring deep into your soul, at times like this, he was almost the doctor. You jumped, the sudden noise surprising you

“Ah, sorry, John, dear. I was just reading, I had a bit of time before the day began,” You started

“It’s alright, no need to apologize. What are you reading?’

“Mr Fitzgerald’s new book, I have heard nothing but good things,”

“Ah, I prefer the classics, great expectations and such.” Even as a human he was still so much of the doctor.

You stood up suddenly “Anyway, I need to go. I have my duties to attend to.”

John rambled “Stay! If you want to- I mean- if you would like you can stay here and read, I don’t mind and I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind, I’ll convince them it was my idea. even though it was anyway,”

You considered it for a brief moment, you shook your head, “I can’t, I have particularly busy day,”

“At least let me walk you home tonight then, if you’re busy throughout the day. I enjoy your company,” he said with a wink and then he caught himself and looked shocked that he had actually just done that.

“Fine. I finish at 5. But you must know the neighbours will talk,” You said in attempt to deter him

“Oh, let them, this small town loves gossip,” John smiled in a very doctorish manner. You nodded slightly. A small smile graced your lips, a tinge of sadness in your eyes, you prayed he wouldn't notice as you turned to leave the room. You didn’t see him silently stick his hand out in an attempt to comfort you, over feelings he would have no concept of. John Smith and his small smiles and sweet talk would be the death of you. The Almost Doctor. So close yet, so far out of reach.

You had the trouble of organising staff schedules that week and planning and writing assemblies for other teachers, you didn’t mind though it kept you busy.

“(Y/N), did you hear Edward Gray hasn’t shown up today,” One of your colleagues Mrs. Price had said, she was elderly woman, her hair greying slightly, her glasses rested on a chain that was always around your neck

“That’s peculiar, he was outside my house last night,” You began as you explained to the other woman. She sat in an awkward silence afterwards.

“According to his mother, he did get home ok, he just came in this morning. Must’ve just decided he wanted to wander the woods for a break,” She said with a nervous laugh and you followed suit before going back to clicking away at your typewriter.

The day eventually ended at 5pm as you said a brief weekly farewell to the other office staff members before heading to the front of the building. John Smith was stood at the front he gave you a wide small and small wave that you returned

“Mr Smith,” You said with a smile as you approached him

“Miss (L/N).”

On the way home, you chatted about anything and everything, you trying to fix the holes in your double life story, and the chameleon arch filling in the gaps in his. You were simply two half strangers sharing half truths with one another. If the Doctor were actually here he’d laugh. Occasionally, neighbours would nod their heads towards you in acknowledgment, none of them stopping to talk. One neighbor seemed off, you believed his name was Mr Roscoe and he was an older man from the village. He made intense eye contact with you both before bumping into the doctor aggressively, squaring up to him.

“Timelord, your days will soon be up. We will have your secrets soon enough,” Roscoe hissed. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, you pulled the knife from your leg and pointed it at Mr Roscoe’s throat.

“Good, God Miss (L/N), where did you- what’s going on? Why do you have a knife?” John stammered the chameleon arch kicking into overdrive.

“Shut up,” You snapped, he opened his mouth to speak, he decided against it, then closed it again. You turned your attention back to the older gentleman, “Leave him be. He is not what you are after. This is your final warning, approach any of us again and this knife is going right in one of your vital organs. Clear? Or will I have to do it as a warning?” You snarled anger rising with each word edging the knife close to the man as you waved it for emphasis.

“Crystal,” The man replied, void of tone. Before turning and walking away sending a sharp glare in your direction as he wandered off

“Do you mind if we visit your house instead I have a phone call to make?” You asked the knife away, smiling and acting like nothing had occurred, slipping your arm back around John’s. John simply stammered in agreement, still not entirely grasping the intensity of the situation.

John’s house was rather large for him, he’d claimed it was far too big for one person and that he ought to let it out, but it was close to his job and he could afford it and that he also preferred his own company.

You waited until he left his kitchen to call Amy,

“Hello, this is Amelia Williams,” She chimed

“Red, wolf, now,” You said breathlessly, it was code, you had invented, between the three of you, if people were around that couldn’t know about the predicaments you faced, such as John you would use it. Red was danger, wolf was alien. She breathed a curse into the phone

“You’re safe, I presume, stay that way and with him, time to locate the pin and the needle,” more code, you simply said a quiet yet nervous ‘yes’ into the phone. The pin being the watch, the needle being a decoy.

“What about your job? 2 years, wolf tracking was up to you,” You hissed

“I’m sorry. I think the battery died long ago, we have no idea how to charge it even with the TARDIS. Plus, he never gave us an explanation of how to use it,” You mumbled a brief apology for hissing and hung up, after she had made sure you were fine, in the overly complex code, you former companions shared.

“What was that about?” John asked reentering the kitchen and breaking you from your thoughts holding some glasses, a bottle and packet of cigarettes. “Sorry, just a small code with a code with a friend, letting her know I’m safe and with a friend incase she gets worried or tries to visit,” You explained quickly

He smiled at that, maybe he had bought it, maybe not, “You’re so intelligent.” He breathed half to himself, half to you “Come on time for a smoke and a drink to calm us down after that, erm, experience,”

You sat next to eachother on one of the few steps that led to his garden. “So why do you carry a knife?” Was the first question out of his mouth after he’d poured drinks

“An old friend, he had some issues, told me to protect myself, I just felt I needed to make sure I was safe,” You replied simply, “And I hate guns, so a knife had to do,”

“In the 2 years I have known you, (Y/N), I’ve learnt very little about you, other than today.” He sighed

“You don’t need to know a lot, there’s not a lot I can tell you really, a fairly ordinary life,”

“Do you smoke?” He said offering you the box, with a smile you accepted one and lit it,

“Not often, we’ll have to share this one, I can’t handle full ones this late.” You passed it back to him “my friend wouldn’t approve so I try to not,”

“Well you have to make your own decisions,”

“He wouldn’t approve of you offering, I mean” You corrected “Also maybe not me accepting,”

“I need to tell you something,” He began, “I have these dreams- and they’re about the future and they involve you and that quiet couple from the village. We travel to other worlds and I’m from another planet and we try to save people. And it matches some of what Mr Roscoe had said. How crazy is that?”

Shit. You hadn’t considered dreams “Well ultimately dreams are the subconscious filling the space so I would imagine it is perfectly normal thing to dream. And as for Mr Roscoe, he’s a confused old man, I doubt he even realised what he said, John,” You laughed nervously, the chameleon arch had already started fixing the damage

“You can stay overnight, if you’d like I have a guest bedroom set up and some spare toiletries, just so you’re not worried about getting home. Mr Roscoe put the fear of God in us earlier and I wouldn’t like that to happen again, especially if you’re walking home” Even now, when he wasn’t himself, he was still unbelievably kind.

“Ok, then I’ll stay,” You nodded, you did not want another Edward Gray situation

“So this friend of yours. Would he approve of you staying the night? Does he approve of much? It certainly doesn’t seem it,”

“Perhaps he would. Maybe with you, maybe not, it's difficult to say. He doesn’t approve of much and yet many things. Kindness and eccentricity are two things he absolutely loves. He’s a good man, a kind man,” You tried to explain, taking the cig back “He’s a pacifist. And when he smiles the stars seem to align. We travel together. Or rather we used to before I settled here. I’m waiting for him to come back.”

“Oh are you and him-”

“Uh, no, absolutely not. I did see him like that, he did not see me that way. He has no reason to, he carries the stars with him and the world on his shoulders. He’s got enough to worry about without me,” you stated, a small tear slipping from your eyes, John wiped it away quickly , taking the cigarette back and finishing it

“I mean, perhaps he could, view you like that. If I were him and I know I could never be, I wouldn’t hesitate. You’re wonderful, kind and beautiful, intelligent and astonishingly brave,” John smiled “and if he can’t see that, I’m sure someone else will.”

The silence after his words was comfortable. You didn’t quite expect it. The ferocious love in his voice, the warmth and kindness. It seemed so disjointed from the normal, nervous and awkward John. You rested your head against him, a form of acceptance to his words. He wrapped his long since abandoned jacket around you, along with his arm, trying to shield you from the cold. The drinks had been finished a while, and cigarettes long since burned to ash. You stayed that way for a while, at least in that hidden moment you could pretend it was him and that things weren’t about to turn terrible. At least you had now and the steps in his garden long after dark.

PART 2

#doctor who x reader #doctor who x you #11th doctor #11th doctor x reader #11th doctor x you #eleven x reader #Eleventh doctor x reader #self insert fanfiction #self insert #self insert doctor who #hope this is ok :)#Doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction

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loreweaver-universe · 4 years

Photo

And that’s...

...the show.

That’s Steven Universe.

That’s the end of the most important show I’ve ever watched.

That was...perfect. I wasn’t sure if they were going to nail it, but they did. I was crying through half the episode, really blubbering. I could barely take it. This was SO good.

Steven Universe...what a show. This show was so important. It broke so much ground, and it affected my life in countless ways. I don’t know where I’d be without Steven Universe, but I don’t think I’d be anywhere near as happy. This show means so much to me, and I’m sad to see it go.

It’s the end of an era. I...wow. I finished Steven Universe. That’s it. It’s done. I can’t believe it. One hundred and eighty liveblogging sessions. A little shy of twenty thousand screenshots, counting the ones on my old fried laptop. 4.46 million views. It’s nuts. What a journey.

According to my Discord chat, I’m the first person to liveblog every episode of Steven universe? Some people beat me to the final episode, but they’re ones that started midway through the show. Who’d’ve thought I’d be the first getting from start to finish? Crazy.

I’m stunned. I can’t believe it’s over. It...man, I’m gonna talk in circles here for a minute, but this show changed my life. I can’t believe it’s over. I can’t believe it. There’s no more Steven Universe for me to watch.

I thought it would feel like there was a hole in my life, but instead I feel...complete. That finale really finished it off for me in such a satisfactory way. That sense of completeness is really buoying me in a time when I thought I’d be absolutely crushed. It’s amazing.

I did it. I made it all the way from start to finish. That’s Steven Universe.

Goodbye, Pearl. Goodbye, Connie. Goodbye, Amethyst. Goodbye, Garnet. Goodbye, Greg. Goodbye, Peridot. Goodbye, Lapis, Goodbye, Bismuth. Goodbye, Ruby. Goodbye, Sapphire. Goodbye, Sadie, and Lars, and Onion, goodbye Sour Cream and Buck and Jenny and Ronaldo. Goodbye, everyone.

Goodbye, Steven. I’m going to miss you so much.

The Future comes in at my new #1 for Season 6, displacing Snow Day, and my new #1 for the series, displacing A Single Pale Rose. Very little in this show is on par with it, and nothing made me cry like it has. What a capper. What a perfect sendoff.

I love this show.

If you’d like to read some other Steven Universe liveblogs, now that I’m done, I have a few active ones for you to check out. Minda Reads is finished with Steven Universe, though he only started with Three Gems and a Baby. Taz, the SU Workbook, is the newest game in town, and damn is she good at what she does. Zephyr is another liveblogger that started at the beginning, and he’s halfway through Future, so there’s quite a lot there to read. MissFineFeather is another liveblogger that started midway, with Can’t Go Back, but is up to Prickly Pair in Future. All of these people also do other shows and webcomics, so check them out if you want to branch out, too!

As for me...I’m going to take Friday off. I think I’ve earned it. Well, off from liveblogging; I’ve got streams like Baba Is You and Final Fantasy VII Remake to do, and I may do those for fun, but I’m taking my usually scheduled Friday off from liveblogging. I’ll be getting back to liveblogging on Monday, with the Patron Picks, and after that will be more She-Ra; my plan is to finish Season 1 of She-Ra, then take a big bite out of Season 2 of Infinity Train.

This has been a thrill, liveblogging for you. I hope you Steven Universe fans stick around for the other shows I do, but if not, know this: I treasure every moment we’ve spent together. It’s all been so important. You all make this possible, with your patronage and your fandom, and I owe each and every one of you for making me able to do this for a living. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

I’ll see you next time. I love you guys.

(For the record, I did this entire liveblog wearing the Shouty Goat shirt that @thischick25 made me years ago.)

IN OTHER NEWS:

Back in January, I completed a blind playthrough of Steven Universe: Save the Light! You can view the full playlist by clicking here!

I recently completed my playthrough of the second story campaign in Fire Emblem: Three Houses! You can view all the streams of the Golden Deer and Black Eagles routes I have done by clicking here!

I recently completed a blind playthrough of Hollow Knight on Twitch! You can watch all the Hollow Knight streams I’ve uploaded to Youtube by clicking here!

If you’d like to help me pay my rent, buy me some food, or help with my bills and medicine, please use my direct donation link! If you’d like to support me per liveblog completed every month, please pledge to my Patreon! Becoming a patron not only allows you to vote on what shows I do whenever I choose a new one, but also grants access to the community Minecraft server to $5 patrons or higher!

You should also go pledge to Gio’s Patreon–our Discord server maintenance tech, creator of Rubybot, and community Minecraft server overlord deserves far more than I can afford to pledge to him by myself.

If you’d like more of me and my content:

My Episode Lists master page, where you can find every show and liveblog I’ve done!

My Discord server, where you can come hang out with me and other fans, check out member liveblogs, and join community gaming guilds!

My Twitch channel, where I stream variety games every so often!

My Youtube channel, where you can check out past streams!

My ask blog, where you can send me questions and comments!

My Twitter, where I make announcements about liveblogs and streams!

It’s your kindness and support that lets me do this stuff, and I wouldn’t be where I am without all of you to do it for. Thank you all so much for your support, and for tuning in every episode!

OTHER PEOPLE YOU MAY ENJOY:

I may have been one of the earlier Steven Universe liveblogs, but a whole community of livebloggers has sprung up over the last five years! I linked to a bunch individually for a few wrap-ups, but honestly, this end-slate is already eight billion miles long, so I’m just gonna link to my links page. Click here if you want recommendations of other livebloggers, or other neat people, or webcomics and podcasts that I recommend.

#steven universe #steven universe future #suf #subloggin #bloggin #su180 #su episode 175 #this is screenshot #sua11308 #episode wrap up #goodbye steven #I'm going to miss you

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Earthbound 1/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 2 Part 3

……………………………………………………………………

Chapter 1: Scattered Amongst The Stars

Alfred is six. It was his birthday last Tuesday and he got to have a really big party and it was really really cool, but the coolest thing ever was that he got an e-tab from his Ma. Everyone at school already has an e-tab -as a July baby he's one of the youngest- so now he can finally join in with the special classes that they have and play all of those games at lunch time.

Alfred doesn't like feeling left out. It's not nice, Ma says, when you don't include people, so that means that the people who play games on their e-tabs when they know he doesn't have one are being mean on purpose and that really hurts. Except now, now he can join in and be their friend again and won't have to sit alone at his table when it's interactive e-tab time.

It's not real learning, Pa says. He didn't want Alfred to have one, says that it rots your brains and makes you lazy, and says that the e-tab time is just 'enrichment', it's not part of the curriculum because they're not learning anything, just downloading and watching stuff. Still, Ma must have talked him around because on Tuesday Alfred opened the box and there it was, all for him. There's some games on it, from Grandpa, and Ma had uploaded some of his favourite movies for him to watch as soon as he'd synced his mind up. Pa got there too, he must have done, because there's also some files on 'Earth History', 'The Fall', and one about extinct animals which Alfred really doesn't wanna read but Pa's been mentioning at least one of them every dinner since so he probably should.

He goes into school and begins to chatter happily to his friend Ben as soon as he sees him about 'Zip Blast', the current school-yard fad, and about how he can't wait to sync up and play because he'd been practising over the weekend and he thinks he's kinda good now.

Ben looks uncomfortable. 'Oh, I don't think we're playing that one any more.'

'Huh? But...' Alfred stops and looks at Ben in disbelief, 'but Friday you said it was the best ever!'

'Well it was,' Ben concedes, reluctantly, 'but now there's the new 'Rock-ite' out so we played that over the weekend.'

Alfred's heart sinks. 'We?'

His friend has the grace to look as apologetic as a six year old can look about these matters but nothing more than that and at recess Alfred is alone once more. He tells himself it's okay, he doesn't care anyway but it's a half-hearted lie at best and he doesn't try to kid himself for too long. Instead, he decides he may as well sync up one of those stuffy files Pa put on the e-tab to pass the time and nibbles a cookie to keep himself entertained.

His teacher finds him gormless, ten minutes later. His eyes are glazed as he stares unblinkingly at the wall and his cookie, one chunk missing, lies forlorn on the table next to his slack left hand but his brain is more full and awake than it's ever been. Information about a long dead planet far far away pound and crash in his head and as soon as the data file has been properly synced he reaches out for his tab and loads up another.

At eight, Alfred has become that kid. No matter what conversation he gets into or who he talks to, if there is an opening or an opportunity he will bring up Earth and once that's accomplished he can go on and on for hours. He's downloaded every possible data file he can find about the entire subject: life before the Fall, the Fall itself, and the human race's desperate escape across the stars and for him it's still never enough. There's always another e-file to sync: about ancient nations, about old sciences and religions, about old wars and songs and dances and food; every second he can spare he gives over to tales of the past woven from the binary of today.

They are a scattered people, he likes to tell his listeners, there are hundreds of us, strewn across galaxies and planets and ships and no one knows how many of us there are any more because the Fall ripped apart alliances and histories so we don't even know who else is out there to find. Everything was lost, everything; the history, the stories, the places, the-

At this point, someone usually either changes the topic of conversation or he realises that they've walked away and left him babbling to himself, his eyes shut as he imagines the flight to freedom that happened too long before he was born. Adults are usually nicer and listen for longer, but they don't mean it either and by pretending to be interested in what he has to say they only serve to hurt him more.

He just can't understand, why does no one else find this interesting? Why does no one else dream of where they as a species came from and long to see it for themselves? Alfred would do anything to feel the wind on his face, to have breeze in his hair and the sun touch his skin because although he could play in a holo-room or go on a special holo-holiday it's not real and Alfred longs to just feel it. The sun on his planet is strong but the dense material of the domes blocks it from actually reaching him; he can't feel the warmth. At school he's learnt that it's too hot out there anyway and he'd die, but according to his data files the sun should be warm and gentle and fill up summer days and spring afternoons, so he can't quite feel the danger as much as he probably should. There's no air outside the domes either and what's the point of feeling the sun without a breeze, so he's not as sad as he could have been. It wouldn't ever compare to mankind's old sun, the sun in the stories he's growing up on.

He sometimes spends his recess and lunch at school rushing about as fast as his legs can carry him. Trying to get his own wind in such space is hard, but not impossible and if he focuses hard enough on his self-made breeze he can imagine that he's running over rocks and cliffs and weaving in and out of long gone animals that only the sky can remember. If this doesn't work, he syncs with his e-files to learn about something else, he's started to get into the people recently and likes the stories about normal stuff the most. Food, clothes, toys. Relatable things that he can see in his own home and use to imagine that he's been transported back through time and space.

There are often pictures of houses and Alfred marvels as how big they are and how much stuff those people must have had, collected form all the many places they must have seen. You can't get wood any more, but maybe if he asks Pa nicely he can get him some of that building material they use for making the new domes and he can practise making his own, just to see if he can.

He spends his weekends tinkering in his room with old bits of plastic, metal and cables and every now and again he plugs in a new circuit board to the plug sockets in his room and sees if he can make the lights turn on or off from somewhere else. Last weekend he built a fan and managed to make it blow. He can sync up a sound file from Earth and imagine that he's in a town somewhere way back when and there's a breeze on his face and there's someone who wants to talk to him.

Alfred is fifteen and is the best engineer in his school. He specialised early -he'd always had a knack for building things and he's good with numbers- and now this is what he's known for. Alfred can look at a electrical hub or a circuit board and immediately he can see either what's wrong or how to improve it and this makes him valuable. He's been building and fiddling with this sort of stuff in his room for ages but now it's finally cool, people actually want him to do that now. He sees it as a lucky thing, that he was bullied so much for it previously, because now he can see how much bullshit people like to throw when they want you to do something, how much an opinion of someone can change depending on their age and talent. Too good too young: weird and a nerd, you're wasting your time. Then you hit the right age and suddenly you're very experimental, very mature, it's good to know what you want in life. But ah, still young enough not to know your worth, you'll fix this for me for free, yes? If he wasn't as good as he is, he thinks, how valuable would they think I am? The answer scares him because he knows what it is and knows how thin the line he treads is; there are others like him, don't forget.

What even is he, without the skills of his hands?

He is seventeen. Alfred hates it, but Ma could use the help and Pa's not getting any younger, so he accepted an offer not too long ago for a entry level job in the government engineering department. It is an amazing offer for someone so young and fresh out of school, he knows that, but as much as he enjoys what he does the days wear him out and he spends less time listening to his e-files and more time building the dreams of others far more affluent than he.

He thinks he's doing okay for a while. The days whittle by easily and he starts to build up a nice savings pile that he uses to help out his parents every now and again. But he's nothing special. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him on this planet who have been fed on a diet of strict, specialised schooling meant to produce only the best and Alfred knows that the only thing which sets him apart from the many many many others is his ability to just keep going. There is no safety in what he does at his age, no net to catch him if he slips up, so he begins to take on private jobs at the weekend to build up his CV further and get his name out there, making the chance of falling just that bit smaller. Before he realises it it's been a month since he last had the time set aside to listen to an e-file and that hits him, hard. He'd never had to set aside time before. Hell, he can't remember when he'd last done anything other than go to work, come home to sleep, and repeat.

He's struck by the monotony of it all. He can't see a difference between his life and that of his dad's, or his dad's friends, or anyone he knows, for that matter. Is this all there is? Is this all anyone does? When is there ever a break? Then, he gets it. There won't be a break. As soon as you can't keep up in this crazy race he's in, you're worthless. He's kind of been kidding himself, almost, that there'd be an end to it all, like a video game where you complete the level and then suddenly it's free play. You work hard to get a reward of, of something, or at least you can stop worrying and panicking about being left behind. There is no free play, he realises, it just keeps on going until you can't play any more because life has ground out your energy and sucked the vitality from your bones.

He goes running; pounding his feet on the treadmill he sucks in the humid air around him and imagines than he's running through an old Earthen jungle, dodging trees and leaping over crags in the forest floor. But there's no wind, and Earth refuses to come alive.

Alfred is eighteen. A message came through from Earth, old true Earth, that a new colony there is doing well and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since, thinking and dreaming about what he'd do if he ever went there, if he ever set up his life there instead of here. He could...no. There is no safety in history, he knows. There is no definite chance that anyone would want him to do that. Besides, there's no potential for definite growth, no stable career plan because you can't guarantee a career on digging up the scanty past of a long dead planet. But no matter how big of a safety net he could make for himself in engineering he feels no passion about any of it and the idea of spending his days encapsulated in this metal world of domes and tunnels makes him feel cold.

There's something that calls him in his dreams and whispers over the wind in his mind and this builds and builds in his feet until he can't keep them still any longer. One more look out of the window and up at the stars and he's gonna blow, he needs to get out and go go go because if he doesn't then he's gonna sink in this place.

Before he can stop himself he's bought a ticket and finds himself packing hurriedly late at night when his parents are asleep, stuffing clothes into the only bag he only which is far too small for this sort of thing but who the fuck travels anywhere these days? He hasn't got time to be better at this so he crouches under his bed and reaches in, all the way back until his hand scrapes the wall and he finds his old fan that he built when he was eight. He puts it on his bed, places his e-tab next to it with a message of what he's done and that's that.

He slips out without waking his parents, because saying goodbye would only be too hard and he knows that he'd end up changing his mind if they spoke even one word to him, so he says his farewells in silence and disappears.

................................................................................................................................

Peter is five and he sits upon his mother's knee, playing with the buttons on her shirt. She's with other adults and they're all talking about something that he doesn't really understand but they all sound sad and the air feels heavy so he keeps quiet like a good boy should and thinks about other things to keep himself busy. He thinks about the e-book his nanny got him last Christmas, the one with the pretty pictures, and thinks that it would be nice to live inside that book, with the greens of grass that he's never touched before. He wonders if grass is hard or soft and he spends so long thinking of this that that night, when he is sleeping, he dreams that he is running on grass and it is prickly, tickling his feet.

There is a voice in the dream, singing him the story but it is not Nanny's voice, nor Mummy's or Daddy's, but another man's and the lilt of his voice sings a language Peter doesn't know but it is a good voice for story telling and so the dream is vivid and touchable. He flies through the grass, feet pounding at earth instead of metal and the voice chuckles, deep and throaty. It makes him feel safe.

He wakes up because his Mummy is stroking his hair and forgets; school teaches him about how the air system in his dome works. Grass isn't as important as breathing.

He is eight and they are learning about the old Earthen languages. There used to be many, his teachers says, and each language held a culture, a history and a soul of a people and there used to be hundreds of them on Earth before it Fell. The teacher is old; his words are flat and there is no passion in his tone, but a thrill runs up Peter's arms as he imagines so much more. From the nothing he is given his brain decides to give those dead languages life and all of a sudden there are bursts of sound echoing inside his head. The teacher moves on, the class sits bored, but Peter can hear consonants clash against teeth and tongue and fricatives slip between breathy vowels. There are phonemes which glide between dipthongs and tripthongs to bound and fall out of the hundreds of mouths of hundreds of people; whispers of a past no one can hear tell stories long forgotten.

There is a clap very close to his head which scares all of the sounds away. His teacher looms over him, frowning in exasperation.

'Again, Peter?' he says, 'Stop daydreaming, boy. I asked you a question.'

'Er...' his classmates snicker and he feels his ears go red. 'I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't listening.'

'That much was obvious.'

Peter's cheeks burn hotter and he stares at his e-tab, focusing on the light of the screen to stop him from crying.

Before too long the lesson changes, then the day ends and he's allowed to go home. He walks alone through the corridors and exits the school dome, coming into the shuttle bus bay. He's a big boy now, he can take the shuttle bus all by himself and he has a special card to prove it. Weaving in and out of the other children, he hurries to where his bus is docked and scrambles inside to rush to his favourite seat, hopping up and placing his bag on the seat beside him. He likes to sit alone, because then he can stare out of the window and dream for as long as the journey will let him without worrying about talking to someone. Not that anyone wants to anyway, the other children say he's not got a brain because he would rather focus on the story in his head than on their silly games.

Nanny doesn't mind, she says it's good for people to dream and says that he goes off to somewhere called 'Neverland' whilst she pinches his cheeks and calls him her little Peter Pan. But when he gets home Nanny isn't there, Mummy and Daddy are and they're huddled in front of the large e-screen in the sitting room, faces pinched in worry.

He drops his bag by the kitchen table and goes to join them. There is a man on the screen speaking about their air ventilation system and a 'catastrophic degradation' and about some big numbers with a scientist nodding seriously to his left.

'What do we do now?' His mother's voice is hushed, fragile.

His father raises his eyes to her and shakes his head slowly. 'Debbie... you heard what he said. The planet's no longer viable.' His eyes flick towards Peter, suddenly aware that he's there too, and he smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Hey Pete. Do you mind doing your homework in your room today?'

Peter could ask why, but he sees that his Daddy doesn't want him to and Mummy looks like she's going to cry, so he glances once more at the screen and nods. He leaves them with the scary looking numbers and tips his books onto his bed. That night he dreams of waves crashing against his legs and he tastes the salt on his lip when he wakes.

At nine, there's some breaking news. Earth, of all things Earth, is habitable once more and it can't come at a better time. Peter sits on his favourite sofa at Nan's house, with his father having lunch, when the planet-wide intercom coughs its way to life and briefly deafens them all before the sound adjusts ever so slightly.

'ATTENTION ALL. PRIMARY SUPPORT SYSTEMS FOR THE SOUTH SIDE HAVE SUFFERED AN IRREPERABLE MALFUNCTION. BACKUP SYSTEMS WILL HOLD FOR APPROXIMATLY 3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL; MAKE YOUR WAY TO YOUR EVACUATION POINTS.'

Then, it falls silent once more.

South side, that's them. Peter immediately feels as though he's going to be sick and by the look on his dad's face he's not alone. Once one half of the planet goes the other will surely follow. It's something they've all been expecting and planning for for years, but it's far, far too soon, they should have more time than this; they're not ready to go and the government's not even started the evacuation programme yet. His Nan shoots a look at his father from where she's sat in her armchair. It's a look Peter can't really read because there's something there that he subconsciously doesn't want to acknowledge.

'Earth?' Her voice is a thin whisper.

His father nods gravely. 'We got them Mum, the tickets came yesterday.' Peter's heart briefly lifts at the prospect, a longing that's deep and euphoric but then it crashes quickly. 'But...'

His Nan smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'I know.'

Slowly, with growing horror, Peter understands. 'Wait,' he whips his head back and forth between the two of them, 'Nanny, where-'

'Don't worry, Peter,' she gets up and goes to kneel in front of where he's frozen in his chair, hands digging nails into the old material, 'I'll get on one of the other evacuation ships.'

'But you're not-,' his eyes burn and his voice is breaking but he doesn't look away, 'but you're not with us, why aren't you coming with us.'

'Oh Peter, my little Peter Pan,' she hugs him tight, pulling him in to her chest and he grips his hands in her shirt and tries to take in as much of her as he can.

'Mum we- we have to go.' Dad doesn't sound much better and before Peter can register much his Dad is hugging his Nan with a funny tight look on his face, then he's being pulled by the arm and out of the door, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up.

A terse shuttle bus later they get home to his mother already throwing their things into cases and boxes, haphazardly grabbing at e-frames and e-tabs to squash them and their memories safe under piles of their clothes. Peter could help, should help, but all he can do it sit numbly on the floor and cry whilst his life is collected and contained into a few measly bags. The rest will be left.

It doesn't take too long, thankfully, as Peter doesn't know what's worse, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible or wanting to stay and cling to the remnants of the only life he's ever known. As they make their way to the loading bays for the Earth-bound travellers he blearily finds himself thinking about what classes he'll miss in school tomorrow, but then he remembers Nanny and the ordeal starts anew as reality sets back in.

His parents are focused on more practical things.

They stand in line, their few pieces on luggage already being loaded on, and wait to board the ship they were assigned to only yesterday. His mother speaks under her breath, as if she is afraid to talk too loudly for fear of jinxing something. 'The Earth ships aren't even ready. They won't have enough food let alone rooms.'

His father shakes his head and slips his hand down to intertwine with hers. 'They must have known something like this could happen at any time, they've been predicting it for years. If anything, the rooms may not be ready but the agricultural sections will be.' He looks determinedly at the back of the head of the man in front of them and swallows. 'They only give out tickets if there's room. We'll be fine.'

Peter's mother glances his way meaningfully, and then back to his father.

'Jo, there're not enough ships; no one was ready in time. They can't have planned for everyone.' She bites the inside of her cheek, one hand on Peter's shoulder. Her fingers dig in, hard, but he doesn't try to shrug her off. He can barely feel it.

His father understands. 'She'll call us when she can.' Then, the line moves and they lurch forward together, huddled close.

Just before the door, where the tickets are being checked and where the din of the engines roaring into life starts to become uncomfortable, his father takes one last desperate look at out of the window at the distant domes of their colony, nestled in the dust. He taps an impatient rhythm against the tiled floor. 'She'll call.'

She never does.

................................................................................................................................

Francis is three and his daddy has just left Mummy.

'He went to fight,' she says as she strokes his hair. This confuses him because fighting is bad and you're only allowed to fight if someone tries to fight you first and no one has been nasty to Daddy that he's seen.

Mummy doesn't answer but continues to stroke his hair, humming softly a tune she sings to him every night before bed that sounds old and sad and sleepy, so he just nods and rests his head heavily against her chest.

He doesn't see his Daddy again.

He is ten when he realises that there never was any war. The notion strikes him dumb one day in the kitchen as he distantly listens to the news playing through the announcer when he helps wash up after dinner. The announcer is speaking about something banal, a fashion show maybe, but Francis is staring out of the window and up at the sky, up at the stars that push through the daytime's thin atmosphere. He doesn't know what caused him to start this train of thought, but once it's started his brain quickly pieces together the puzzle that it has ignored all of this time.

At school they were taught about wars, about age old battles with guns and swords and metal where blood was spilt over land and the wealth it contained. But, there hasn't been any fighting here. He scrubs a glass, sponge squeaking against the side. And even if there was fighting somewhere far away, his dad would surely still be able to write or visit, or come back after all this time. And more importantly, if there was a war going on now then surely he would have learnt about it at school, rather than learning about age old political struggles on the human-ruined home world.

His mother takes the glass from his slack grip. 'Daydreaming?'

He shakes himself to and looks at her. Turned away and out of the window her face is suddenly older and oddly clearer than he remembers it being, she looks like a person rather than just his mother and that's a scary thought. It's as though the wash of childhood has momentarily slipped away and he's now aware of both it and the harsh brushstrokes of reality. She's a person and feels things, just like he does. So it hurts, that she lied, and it will hurt him for a long time because he doesn't know why but cannot for the life of him bring himself to ask her. Francis is good at reading people and he knows that this isn't something he should ask about, so turns back to the dirty dishes and doesn't.

When Francis is fifteen there is a war, of sorts. The planet nearest to them, the one they rely on the most for trade, switches governmental policies and refuses to continue their current agreements. This results in a breakdown of communication and heightened tension between the two colonies, each bristling angrily at the offence yet unwilling to be the first to initiate anything rash. There is minor rationing imposed upon Francis' planet until trade is re-established as well as a draft of specialisation training implemented, just in case. He's unaffected by the rationing; the draft is a different story. Just in case this trade block becomes permanent, his planet needs to be prepared to become fully self sufficient in everything from science, to food, to art, to the army.

The block stays in place and tensions rise. Against his wishes, Francis is assigned a scientific draft. He is now seventeen and knows he needs to be given something but he'd prefer agriculture or education to research, if he could have the choice, or the arts if he's allowed to dream. He isn't. He brain is good, his grades are high and thus he is far more useful to the cause working on the advancement of his planet than working to help feed it.

A few days after his birthday and a month after his posting letter arrives, his mother rides with him on a shuttle to his boarding station. He will try out four different areas: mechanics, medicine, biology, and physics, then he will be assigned to what he works with best, where he can produce the best work possible. But Francis can't think of anything worse than being stuck in a lab all day, shutters drawn and devoid of all personality. Even worse, he's heard the rumours that have managed to float back from those who have graduated and knows that once he boards this ship there's no escaping the life he'll be moulded into. The programme is four years long and then he will be placed into a job where he will stay until he dies. At twenty one he will have no other skills for work other than what he will acquire at the science facility, there is no swapping careers afterwards. He wants to do so much, there is so much that he loves to do, and with each passing shuttle stop his heart grows more frantic, fighting his brain which has accepted the inevitable.

He gets physics. He calls his mother to howl down the phone once, just once, before he realises the futility of doing so; nothing can or will change. Accept it.

At twenty, a year before his training would end, there is finally a truce. Trade resumes and Francis finally tastes sugar after five years but now, after so long, the taste is too much. Not fully qualified yet too old to be automatically accepted into another programme, Francis is in limbo. There isn't much point in him continuing his training, there are more than enough specialists now and not enough jobs to give them, so there isn't anything for him to do. It's odd, now that there is nothing to work towards he feels empty but at the same time everything is just too much. He returns home and his mother fusses and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to come out of his room and sit with her and he did, at first, but the longer he's home the shorter his resistance is and the longer the 'breaks' are in his room.

Emotions seem to be harder to process without a goal, that or he never had many to begin with and without something to distract him from that notion he's finally noticing how few he has. Either way, other people are small insignificant creatures who worry about such useless, banal things. Who did what, with who and where. Did you know, her son the doctor? Well, he's a you know what now and- ugh. Francis can no longer take it.

He doesn't really see this as a problem. He feels as though he's risen above other people and finally understands that such things are not worth his time; why worry, after all, about what job to get. Why worry about whether or not someone likes you. Every day, regardless of what they do, the planet will spin and the domes will reflect the same bleak, churning sky and Francis realises that he's trapped here, by this life and that his life means nothing. None of their lives do, it's all the same; nowhere new to go, nothing new to do. Pick a job, do the job. Come home, go back. Retire. Die.

So he sits in his room, because if he talks to his mother or to anyone else he is reminded that somehow he's supposed to care about it, that life here is supposed to matter to him just as it matters to everyone else. His mother will mention this or that and he'll have to either fake the responses she wants, or not and upset her and neither option sounds pleasing to him.

After years of monotony and training suddenly he is permitted to express again and it's like he's forgotten how, the parts rusty after all the disuse. There are too many emotions and he finds himself forgetting to use them or using the wrong ones because he can't do them automatically any more, for some reason, and reactions that call for an understanding of nuance are just lost to him. Very quickly everything is too much. Food, heat, depth, people, concepts, everything.

He hides away but then they stop becoming too much and they shrink and shrivel up and become nothing at all he can feel how empty he is. Nothing can fill the void he's got because he doesn't even know why it's there and he can scarcely tell that there's a problem in the first place. He does knows he's got a problem though, really, knows how serious it is by the way his mother watches him with fearful eyes and baleful glances. She tiptoes tentatively around the house, carefully softening her words and her gentleness feels like a pressure cooker slowly but surely building something that's going to get bigger and hotter and harder to make go away. She avoids talking about it, about how Francis feels or doesn't, and by doing so the problem is allowed to grow, unchecked. Francis doesn't have to act any more, doesn't have to pretend, and so the feelings of apathy grow and grow until they swallow him whole and all he can bring himself to do is sit and stare and the sky, a dark choking yellow.

It feels heavy to look at, like a lid covering everything in his life, all potential, all future, all growth. It just festers and sinks lower and lower still and he sits and watches it for days before he's realised he's done so.

When Francis is twenty-two, his mother breaks. Not that she herself breaks, but her patience does.

'I can't do this any more.' she says. There are tears on her face and Francis watches one slide off and fall onto her collar. 'You need to go.'

Francis appraises her properly, meeting her eyes. She flinches at his gaze but remains resolute in her decision, though her bottom lip quivers. 'There's nothing for you here, we both know that. You don't want to be here, so you need to go.'

'I don't want to be anywhere.' he replies.

She gives him a watery smile. 'I know. That's why, you might as well see if you can want to be somewhere else.' She lifts up her arm and shows him her e-tab, the translucent screen showing a brightly coloured ticket. 'I've bought you a flight. It's Earth, it was declared habitable a few weeks ago.'

Francis knows he should feel something, this is one of those instances when he knows that he should be feeling something but he can't quite imagine what emotion he should give her.

She doesn't seem to expect one. 'It's one way. And this, this is all of my savings, Francis.' Her eyes are wide and her face is suddenly so very very old. 'If you don't want to be any more, at least make that decision once you've seen this. You can't go without seeing this, after all. See this, see it for me and then you can decide, okay?'

Suddenly she looks shocked and runs forward to embrace him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and knocking her e-tab into his face. The garish purple of the ticket burns his eyes. 'Oh Francis.' She sobs into his shoulder and clutches tightly into his shirt. 'Oh Francis it's okay, you can cry if you want to.'

Oh.

He's crying.

................................................................................................................................

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

#my writing #hetalia #aph #APH England #APH France #aph america #aph germany #aph prussia #aph sealand #aph canada #aph fruk #fruk #au #sci-fi #hws fruk #oh no what am i doing #something is cooking that's for sure

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kittybellestark · 4 years

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Peter Parker Loves Everyone He Meets

Peter Parker Loves Everyone he Meets.

Peter Parker is tired of loving everyone. He loves people with all he has. He just wants them to know they’re wanted and loved and that they aren’t alone. But he’s tired. He’s so tired. It just takes so much sometimes. But he can’t let people know that he’s tired, he can’t let them know he’s tired from caring about them.

He doesn’t remember his parents. Of course he doesn’t. But Peter remembers that he felt loved. He remembers the feel of his mothers hugs, and how warm they were. He remembers the sound of his dad’s laugh as he put a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze. Peter doesn’t remember his parents, but he remembers feeling loved, and that’s worth a lot, isn’t it?

Of course he remembers Ben, his death was still relatively recent (though feeling like a lifetime ago, which, Peter supposes, it was). He also remembers how loved he felt with Ben. He remember Ben and him ‘sneaking out’ to get ice cream, or to watch Star Wars in that one theater that only ever played old movies. He remembers Ben helping him with his homework and that one special smile only reserved for him.

Peter remembers how his family loved him. And he’s thankful he still has May’s love. But he remembers how he felt. He also remembers his parents and his uncle’s love.

Peter also remembers how it feels to not be loved. Not that he was ever without love, but he remembers feeling like we wasn’t loved.

He remembers being told that his parent’s were never going to come back to him. He remembers feeling like the only people who loved him were gone. He remembers only being a child and feeling alone. Peter remembers that for the first time in his life he felt like no one loved him.

Peter also remembers the next time in his life that he felt anything but loved. And alone. Of course he was anything but alone at that specific time he felt like the only boy in the world who was being told that “friends always do this,” and “Einstein, haven’t I told you before that it’s important to know you’re friend inside and out? I’m just making sure we do just that.” Peter remembers every excruciating moment the first time it happened. And he remembers not remembering every other time it happened. He remembers it starting, but then he remember not feeling anything, and later being so sore, and hurt with bruises just under his collarbone. And he remembers being told “The things you do to me Einstein, you make me so weak. I love our little secret, I hope we can keep it forever.”

And then Ben died and Peter watched him die. Felt him die. Watch as his eyes became empty and his skin go grey, blood pooling on the sidewalk. And Peter knew. He knew there was only one person left who he loved (and only one who loved him back). Peter knew that if he lost May then he really wouldn’t have anyone.

So Peter started to invest himself in people. Of course it was hard. So hard. Everyone seems to be dying. And I mean there was- trusting people is hard. Letting people become so close to himself is also hard, especially when he knows what could possibly happen.

Ned is already a friend, while they aren’t all that close, they sit with each other at lunch, and meet each other at their respective lockers. So, yeah they’re friends. Peter just needs to put himself out there. Get closer to Ned. He can do this. Peter Parker can do this.

And Peter does it!! Peter loves Ned. Ned is Peter’s best friend, and they have sleepovers all the time. Ned even brings his Lego over to Peters!! Ned is the coolest person ever and Peter loves Ned.

Peter needs to tell Ned. But he needs it to be casual, make so Ned knows it’s in a friend way. Platonic love is a very important type of love and Peter knows Ned deserves it more than most people.

For Peter’s birthday Ned got him a Star Wars Lego set. Peter has been looking at this set for a while, but it was $60!! No one who wasn’t related to him has ever bought him anything worth so much before.

“Ned you shouldn’t have!” Peter laughs hugging his friend.

“You deserve it man.” Ned says back also laughing as May starts serving cake.

“Ned honestly, it means a lot. I love you man, you’re the best.”

After Ned it’s a lot easier to connect with people who want to be friends with him. He’s got MJ now, and Mr Stark, and while they both tried keeping Peter at arms length it was pretty easy when they finally cracked a tiny bit.

Peter has people now. He’s got May and Ned and MJ and Mr Stark. Peter’s pretty busy, especially because he’s Spider-Man, and Peter loves Queens and all the people in Queens. They need him as much as he needs them.

As Peter and Mr Stark get closer, and Peter spends more and more time in the lab.Then the lab becomes the living room for movies and pizza, which leads to Peter accidentally falling asleep, and walking up the next morning in a room Mr Stark set up for him on his personal floor.

Peter tried to tell Mr Stark that he loves him, but Mr Stark isn’t ready for that, and that’s okay. Peter just needs to continue showing his mentor how much he cares.

The Avengers move back in, and suddenly Peter had more people he needs to love, had to make sure they felt loved. The Avengers seemed so broken, and alone. Peter knows what it feels like to be alone. So Peter makes it his personal mission to have them remember the stories that Mr Stark told him. Peter is going to make them a family again.

Peter, as it turns out, also loves the returned Avengers. It comes in between the laughter and chaotic dinners, in between midnight snacks and hot chocolates after nightmares.

And now Peter is really busy, he has decathlon on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Lab on Tuesday and Thursdays. Dance practices with MJ Monday Evenings and Thursday’s before school, Ned on Wednesday evenings. Sleeping at the tower Friday night and every second Saturday night. May-Time on Sundays, Patrol until 11pm on school nights, 12pm on non school nights, and of course homework and he needs to sleep at some point, and remember to eat too. And if somebody needs him, he needs to make sure he’s available to help them, without making anyone else feel alone.

Mr Stark then introduces Peter to Harley Keener. Harley Keener does not seem to like Peter at all, and doesn’t seem interested in changing that. But Peter looks at Harley, and see’s that he’s alone in a new unfamiliar places, without any of his family, and he’s worried Harley feels alone. So Peter pushes, and pushes and pushes.

Harley resists, he doesn’t break. And Peter somehow Loves Harley, in a way he has never felt before. In a way Harley will not return. Peter is okay with it though, because while Harley may feel that Peter is a “pest,” and a “complete annoyance, that shouldn’t even be able to step foot in the tower,” Peter knows that he may have at least helped Harley feel less alone.

Peter just wishes he felt the same way. Because Peter has people, he has so many people, and they need him, and he needs them, but he feels alone. And he loves all these people so much that it physically hurts. He would do anything for all the people he loves. But he’s so tired.

Peter is so tired of loving people. Of loving his friends and family. He doesn’t remember feeling tired of loving Ben or May. But when has any of the people he loves, aside from May, ever say that they love him? No one tells Peter he’s loved.

Maybe Peter doesn’t have people. Maybe people have Peter. Peter shakes that unwelcomed thought out of his head as he reads over Ned’s schools report, fixing any mistakes.

Peter is tired though, as his phones continues to be filled with calls and texts of whoever saying “I need you!” And Peter can’t help but selfishly think ‘I need me too!’

On a Wednesday Peter is walking home, because May wanted him home for dinner before heading over to Ned’s, when he receives a phone call.

Peter picks it up without looking a who called, it doesn’t really matter it’s just another person he loves needing Peters help. Peter starts crossing the busy, fast moving street as the person on the other line is asking for help.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’ll try tonight okay?” Peter tries to compromise, pausing in the middle of the road, hesitating over his answer and feeling the world weigh so much heavier on his shoulders.

His ‘Spidey-Sense’ doesn’t go off until it’s too late. Peter gets hit by a car, the driver was texting at the time, and Peters phone goes flying one way as peter feels himself roll up the hood of the car, impact with the windshield, before flying up further and crashing into the ground.

Cars and buses are swerving to miss the kid laying in the middle of the road, onlookers taking out their phones and taking pictures and videos at what has transpired.

Peter landing face down, head hitting the concrete hard enough to knock him out, bookbag filled with textbooks crushing his back. Peter is bleeding, but onlookers don’t know from where, can’t move Peter to find out because he may have broken his back, but the evidence is on the road.

With how quickly the pictures and videos were uploaded onto social media, Peter’s face clearly visible, it takes no time for Friday to alert Tony that Peter was hit by a car and is now trending on social media, with his location already programmed into the suit.

Tony gets to the accident scene quickly, doesn’t let anyone touch Peter until his own team of doctors comes and collects him.

Peter wakes up briefly, not long enough to know what’s happening or why Iron Man is there, but long enough to note how tired he is and how he’s alone.

He wakes up next in the Medbay. Attached to an IV with drugs strong enough to help with the pain, and a heart monitor. He wakes up to dimmed, warm lights, and a room full of people.

May and Ned and MJ and Mr Stark and The Avengers and Harley Keener are all hanging around in his over sized Medbay room. Everyone he loves is in his room, but Peter still feels alone.

“What happened?” Peter finally speaks, bringing all the attention to him.

“You got hit by a car, Kid.” Tony responds when no one else seems to know what to say.

Peter remembers walking home from school and getting a call asking for help, he remembers pausing for a moment and then he remembers waking up, no car, no injury.

“Huh.”

“Is that all you have to say about it?” May asks. She knows Peter should have been able to sense the danger coming, should have been able to move out of the way, and never end up here.

“Don’t remember actually getting hit. I got a phone call and I felt bad saying no and I stopped, but I don’t think I was trying to get hit. I was distracted and probably didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker,” May scolded him giving the idea that she didn’t believe him. “I want the truth.”

“May!” Peter whined rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t kill myself. I can’t kill myself, I have commitments. And if I were to kill myself I wouldn’t put it on another person. I’ve been tired lately, probably why I didn’t notice.”

“Peter…” May whispers and Peter can’t help but feel uncomfortable in a room of all the people he loved, all judging him.

“May, maybe we should give Peter some privacy instead of doing this in front of everyone.” Tony suggested starting to usher people out of the room, but staying behind himself in case May needed back up.

“I’m not suicidal!” Peter sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, and looking back at May. “I don’t want to kill myself, May. I’m just tired. I’m really tired, and people need to not feel alone. I’m tired, May, I just wanted like half an hour to myself, I just needed some time to think.”

“Peter, honey, you know you can take time to yourself whenever you need it, right?”

“I can’t, I can’t. Someone always seems to need something from me, all the time. What if I tell them no, and then they’re alone and they can’t get other help. I don’t want anyone to be alone. I don’t want them to realize that I’m not worth their time.” Peter didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean to say any of it, but he’s so tired, and the pain medication is making him even more emotional. And Peter really, really didn’t want to say any of that.

“Oh baby, no one is going to be tired of you, and we’ll all understand if you need some time to yourself. Everyone here loves you.”

May ran her fingers through Peter’s hair, trying to give him some comfort. Peter scoffed in response rolling his eyes in such an extravagant way that he could have only learnt it from Tony. Peter crossed his arms over his chest looking away from May and off to the side.

May turned around to Tony, giving him a look that got Tony moving to the other side of Peters bed, holding onto the boys hand.

“Peter, kid, you can’t seriously think we don’t love you.” Tony spoke softly. Peter gave him a look and Tony sighed. “I’m sorry Peter, I’m sorry that I haven’t shown you properly how much I love you. Peter Parker you are special, and I think of you as my kid, even though I know you aren’t, okay? I’m sorry that we all are really bad with our emotions, but I promise you everyone outside those doors loves you too, we’re all just really bad at saying it.”

Peter Parker loves everyone he meets, but they all love him too.

#peter parker #spiderson #spiderman #hurt peter parker #tony stark #irondad #iron man #may parker #avengers #ned leeds #mj #bi peter #bi peter parker #harley keener #peter parker gets hurt #hurt comfort #tony stark loves his kids #peter parker loves everyone #avengers family

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sunshine-pup-fics · 4 years

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R E C K L E S S // Iida x Reader

A fic? After over 6 months of writers block?? When my last fic was posted before Christmas??? WHO KNEW I HAD IT IN ME!?

Not me.

I’ve been struggling to focus on even just one short Oneshot long enough to get it done... Quarantine sounds like the perfect time to get stuff done, but I've been bogged down in work. I have no idea when the next fic will be done. I don’t even know if people read this blog anymore. This was actually requested on my Wattpad upload of these fics, but its something! Hope I still got the skills-

WARNINGS: Angst, implications of death, a heated argument.

Working hard. Studying diligently. Striving the best and carrying the Iida name. That's what was important to him. He had to uphold his reputation, his stature. Who else was meant to keep the class in check, if not him? And admittedly, he'd been doing well so far. He was acing his studies and was on track with his quirk training. Nothing was supposed to get in his way of becoming a Hero. So it became a concern when he started to find himself... distracted. It started with casual glances. Brief ones whilst he waited for the next notes, or before he left the classroom for lunch, or when he passed them in the hallway, or when- okay, so more times than he'd like to admit. But then it moved to small talk. Asking about their day or reminding them of the weather when they left class.

Soon enough, he found himself writing their name neatly in the margins of his notes. He was embarrassed, appalled even, by his own behaviour, and even rewrote the entire page of notes when Izuku had asked to borrow them. He knew this was unacceptable. He could not, would not, let this... complication, get in the way. He couldn't risk it. Not when he was already on the path to what he had worked toward for so long.

Yet after a gruelling 4 months after his initial realisation, he was still trying to ignore it, snuff it out, he was going absolutely mad. He had tried not speaking to them, but that lead to an entire ordeal on its own. He tried just ignoring the feelings, 'digesting the butterflies', but it just made him more aware of how they made him feel. Every day was its own battle against himself. How were you ever supposed to win that?

So after much deliberation, he resigned himself to just tell them. It was the only logical conclusion to this mess. No matter the outcome, it would be over, right? Either he'd gain their affections and have the most astonishing person by his side, Or, and he didn't want to think about this outcome to much, he'd be rejected. Told he wasn't good enough. Perhaps to stoic. Maybe he wasn't smart enough. Could he considered too over the top? Possibly he overthought things.

But he wasn't good enough. He knew that. But he had to do it for his own sake. So he could accept his fate and move on. At least things would go back to the way they were before. He could just focus on being a hero again.

Exhaling his breath, along with his nerves, Iida tentatively knocked on their door. There was a muffled "coming" from inside, followed by footsteps. The door cracked open, the hallway lights illuminating a small portion of the unlit room. (Y/n)s face appeared through the crack, a warm smile forming on ther lips as they realised who it was. They quickly slipped outside, closing the door behind them. Iida quietly cleared his throat, gaze shifting to stare at the wall beside their head. "What can I do for you Iida?" Their voice was calming to him, it nearly left him speechless. Nearly. "Ah, I was just wondering- well, seeing how well you've worked recently—" He paused, earning himself a inquisitive look from the (h/c). He cleared his throat, refocusing his gaze on them. "I would like to take you out to eat on Friday night." (Y/n) raised a brow, but otherwise had smug look on their face. "I wasn't aware the class rep was rewarding us for working diligently." Their words held no mockery or ill will, but Iida still felt his stomach churn over the words all the same. He lightly shook his head, forcing a polite smile. "With how much you've improved, I thought it would be a good reason for praise." (Y/n) nodded along. "Alright, sounds good to me. Friday it is. Though you..." They trailed off for a moment, letting their gaze slip to the floor. "You know I have to go visit my parents first, right?" Iida simply nodded, a sincere glint in his eyes, perfectly framed by his glasses. He raised a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "Of course, I would never dream of taking that time away from you." At his sweet answer, (Y/n) could barely contain the warmth that spread through them. "Can't wait then."

Iida went over his outfit again in the mirror. This wasn't too flashy was it? Or was it not flashy enough? They were just going to a simple diner... Why was he so worried about this? He couldn't stop thinking about (Y/n). Had he already messed up? Asking them out... would it have been better if he continued to squash his feelings? Surely not. He really did truly want to be there for them, but he knew that relationships cost time and effort, which was not something he had a lot spare of at UA. He glanced at his phone. He had another 20 minutes before (Y/n) usually got back, but he figured he'd go wait in the common room... maybe it'd keep his mind off it.

Heading down, he noticed everyone crowded around the TV. It was deathly silent besides some news reporter rambling nonsense. He wanders over, peering over the heads of his classmates. There was a large red banner at the bottom with "BREAKING NEWS" scrolling past every few seconds. He leant over to Uraraka, who was seated on one of the couch armrests. "What's this about?" She jumped, gaze shooting to him as she let out a yelp. A few others turned to look at them, looking overly alarmed to see Iida standing there, but they said nothing. "U-Uh.. Well... We were watching some TV when some news came in..." she trailed off. "There was a villain attack on a store near here. It usually wouldn't be a big deal but we heard Aizawa get called out for it so... we're just uh... watching to see whats the problem." Uraraka stiffly turned back to the others, returning their gazes. Iida turned his attention back to the screen, at just the perfect time. "A young girl near the scene spring into action at the beginning of the villains attack, bravely intercepting one of the villains acid attacks and using her quirk to save those nearby, nearly at the cost of her life. Further inquiry is needed, but the girl has reported to be one of the infamous students of 1A attending UA." The class watched in silence as their classmate, and friend, flashed up on screen, mostly hidden behind a very angry looking Aizawa. The silence became deafening. Everyone was too afraid to breathe. "They acted quickly, managing to save a small family who otherwise may have been lost." "W-Well... they look alright. I'm sure they're fine." Deku muttered, anxiously rubbing the nape of his neck. "What do you mean theyre fine. That reporter just said they nearly lost their life." Iidas voice boomed throughout the common room. Everyone looked to him in varying degrees of surprise, fear and sympathy. He blinked rapidly, exhaling a deep breath before averting his gaze. No one knew what to say. Uraraka reached out, gently patting his arm. Deku scooted closer, stumbling over his words as he tried to reassure his friend. "Look-" Mina pointed at the screen and everyones focus fell back to it. "It said they left the premises a while ago for safety reasons. If Aizawa is there then they'll probably come back here right?" The group nodded. "Unless they have to go in for questioning. They did use their quirk without permission and get involved in a villain attack-"

The group went dead silent as they heard the front door swing open. First to enter was Aizawa, somehow looking more tired than usual, followed by a rather downcast looking (Y/n). Midoriya opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by a glare from their teacher. "I'm sure you're aware of what happened. However it doesn't concern you lot... for once. Make sure you get to bed on time." He turned to (Y/n), cold gaze as he stared down at them. "I'll be dealing with you tomorrow..." He averted his gaze, before placing a gentle hand on her shoudler. "Good work." And then he left.

(Y/n) only glanced toward the group, hands clutched to their chest and a downcast look on their face. They said nothing, only quickly averting their gaze before heading toward the stairs. "(Y/n)" They paused, turning their gaze toward the voice. Iida was staring them down across the room. They opened their mouth like they were going to speak, only to quickly close it and bite their tongue. They made no movement toward the stairs however. Iida briskly walked over. "What are you doing?" (Y/n) clicked their tongue. "Going to my room. Kinda had a rough night." They lingered there for a second, squinting at him. "Ah-" Their face lit up in realisation before it fell back to a frown. "Sorry, but I think I'll have to forego our plans." Iida shook his head. "That doesn't matter. I just wanted to know what you were thinking." His mouth was set in a thin line. "What... What I was thinking? What- oh. Right. When I 'leapt bravely into action'? I was saving someones life." Their voice was low, and their eyes were set. They were challenging him. "What you did was not right. As a UA student you should know better than to pull stunts like that." (Y/n) flinched away from him. "Excuse me? I saw someone in trouble, and I acted. I would have done it whether I attended UA or not." Iida frowned. Both their voices were beginning to raise. "Then that proves you're not ready to become a hero. You have to think about yourself too." "Sorry, I wasn't aware you were the one who decided who should and who shoudnt become a hero now. I'll be sure to listen to your advice next time!" "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't have risked yourself like that without at least calling for backup or alerting proper heroes!" "It was the logical thing to do! I couldn't just leave them there!" "You should be ashamed! It was a reckless attempt, and you were lucky no one was hurt!" "That's what heroes do, Iida! We act when no one else can!" They accusatorially stabbed his shoulder with their finger, glaring at him. "That doesn't mean you don't think things through and act in haste! You clearly didn't actually plan any of it!" He leaned forward, towering over them. "Oh what? So now I'm incompetent because I saved someone's life?" their glare hardened and they flung their arms out. "Nearly at the expensive of your own life! It's imbecilic!" "Oh I'm sorry 'Mr go off and fight a known hero killer alone head on', I didn't hear you over your hypocrisy!" "That was a mistake, at least I understand that! You know that situation could have gone wrong and have ended up the same as with your family, correct?" "You. Leave. Them. Out. Of. This." They glared daggers at him, words dripping with malice. "Tell me I'm wrong. You shouldn't have taken that risk!" "I can't believe this. You're so invested in scolding me for one stupid mistake! Maybe I shouldn't have done it, but I did! I risked my life for another because I couldn't bare to watch another family be torn apart by grief as mine did. Is that it, are you happy now?" "N-No! Of course not!" "What else do you want then? Why do you even care?" "Because I'm worried!" "So is everyone else, but I don't see them interrogating me! I've already been chewed out by Aizawa too! Everyone else understands something had to be done! Why is this so important to you?" "Because I was scared I might loose you! Scared I'd hear the news the love of my life had died!" The room went silent. Iida closed his eyes for a moment, hauling a deep breath before facing his words. (Y/n) stood, body shaking as they hauled breaths. They blinked rapidly, emotions swelling behind their eyes. After a moment longer, they finally dropped their arms to their sides, lowering their head in defeat. "And to think I believed that 'the love of my life' would support me. That you would understand better than anyone why I had to do it. Oh how wrong I was." They summoned as much hatred as they could, staring Iida down without falter. And then they left. They spun on their heel, nearly sprinting out of the common room into the night. The few classmates had long been silent, unable and unwilling to butt into their argument. Uraraka tentatively inched closer, leaning sideways to try and catch Iidas gaze. He didn't even notice her. His shoulders shook with each of his breaths, weighed down by his own guilt and his eyes glistened behind his glasses. "Iida-" Uraraka began to speak, voice nothing more than a whisper, but she was cut off. "I know... I know." He hauled a deep breath, straightening his back as he set his gaze on the exit. To hell with his reputation. His studies, his work. He only needed to make sure they was okay.

He didn't even need his quirk to catch up with (Y/n). They'd collapsed on one of the benches, sobs and cries muffled by their hands as they vainly attempted to stop. He could hear them muttering to themself, vile comments on their idiocy. He felt his heart splinter, an oceans worth of regret slamming over him as he realised he had done this. He was the cause of their suffering. Their tears and their cries. Iida staggered toward them, subconsciously reaching out. Upon his movement, (Y/n)'s gaze snapped to him. For a moment, all he could see was the hatred and anguish... and then it slipped away. Scrambling to their feet, they closed the gap between them. He barely had time to react before they'd collapsed into him, smushing their face into his shirt to hide their face, balling the fabric in their fists. Iida instinctively wrapped his arms around them. He'd make up for what he'd done, even if it cost him everything else.

#iida x reader #iida tenya #mha x reader #bnha x reader #iida tenya x reader #x reader #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #saladwrites #im back

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bjy-on-ao3 · 3 years

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Omg, i just read your dionysus fic, over indulgence, and holy shit, it was amazing! I really liked how you characterised him, and reader too, i just dont know what to say other than i absolutely loved it! I'd love to see more hades content! Maybe with Ares this time? He is always so smug, and somehow can be both very intimidating while staying super polite.... Im howwible with prompts, but maybe one where reader is a priestess of athena and somehow catches ares's attention?

I hope you don’t mind stuff rough. I hope this satisfies your want for Ares, Anon!

In the game, Athena and Ares don’t seem to really like each other all that much, so I figured any priest/priestesses or disciples of her would have been warned about him. It also made sense for me that many of those people would double as great warriors/soldiers skilled at defense, but also in battle overall.If you’re looking for something warm and soft, please turn back. I really can’t see Ares in a gentle light, and this fic will contain blood/bloodplay, biting, bruising, and Ares getting a kick of out it all. Dubcon only because Reader agrees to the conditions of Ares being able to take what he wants if they lose. (As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Tags/Warnings Biting, Blood, Bloodplay, Combat, Creampie, Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader Insert, Sadism, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, Violent Sex

Summary Reader - priestess and champion of Athena and fresh off becoming victor of a tournament held in honor of the gods - has an encounter with the most bloodthirsty god of them all: Impressed, Ares offers them a boon should they best him in combat - though if they lose, Ares may take what he sees fit.

Fic Friday

Shieldmaiden (F! Reader/Ares)

The day had been a long and arduous one, filled to bursting with adrenaline and quick-thinking. Oft enough, your days were composed of training or ceremonies, or helping those who sought aid from the temple to Athena you served. But dawn that morning had heralded the start of a tournament lasting till Helios drove the sun beneath the horizon once more. In a way, those who fell quickly were rewarded with a reprieve from the constant bouts, as even though the humiliation of defeat burdened them.

Even on the heels of victory, by the time the battles had concluded, you were tired and sore, marred with minor bruises and a few nicks and scrapes. It was nothing that a good night’s sleep and some poultices wouldn’t solve, though. ‘All worth the honor of winning such a tournament’ you told yourself. Unlike some combatants, you hadn’t killed an opponent, seeking to shed the least blood possible. Your efficiency had no room for excess. But no amount of hard-won praise and self-satisfaction could change that you were looking forward to curling up and resting until the sun rose on a new day.

Traipsing back to the temple in the glowing purple and red twilight, however, a voice caught your attention. “I must say, your performance today was quite impressive.”

To your credit, you didn’t jump or flinch away, becoming stock still and turning slowly toward the source of the voice. “Who’s there? Whom do I have privilege of impressing?” You asked cautiously, unable to strip all the irritation from your tone. You had patience remaining, though you were loath to chat with someone over your victory when you would much rather be in your bed.

Your eyes landed on a tall figure you somehow hadn’t noticed before - a man - stance regal and straight. Something about the posture gave off a sense of nonchalance as well. Clad in armor of ivory and gold, accented with long shards of black and the eerie glaring face of a beast on the chest plate, he radiated an aura of menace, accompanied by a bloodlust so tangible you could almost taste it on your tongue, hot and bitter. Eyes like smoldering coals plucked from a roaring hearth stared at you intently.. Combined with the simper spread over his lips, you couldn’t suppress the chill that raced up your spine.

Something in your gut twisted uncomfortably, and you resisted the urge to put a few more paces between the two of you. Even if it hadn’t been for the myriad weapons crossed over his back, or the impressive armor, the man would have seemed someone to be cautious around, someone you shouldn’t trust. Everything put together set you on high alert instantly, the instinct of fight or flight rising in your chest like a bird taking wing. Something primal shrieked at you that, for once, flight might be the preferred choice.

“You fight rather viciously for one under my dear sister’s wing,” the man mused, his tone light, but formal.

“I asked before - who are you?” you pressed again, not interested in mincing words. You didn’t like how easily he spoke to you or offhandedly disparaged your goddess.

“Oh, no hesitation to be found. Perhaps Athena neglected to impart all of her wisdom to you after all.” you bristled at the insult, taking a deep breath and trying to relieve some of the tension coursing through you. “I am Ares, and I desired to see the prowess of my sister’s little owl before my own eyes.”

‘Little owl?’ the nickname distracted you at first, thinking to the tiny owls often depicted accompanying your Lady, but you shook your head and dismissed the thought. You hadn’t the time to concern yourself with foolish nicknames. “Lord Ares? Well, I have no desire to see you, my Lord,” you said. With the revelation of his identity, you felt even more uneasy. Ares, god of war and death, who was said to bask in the bloodshed and chaos of man. Athena had been certain her followers knew well of her violent half-brother. “I may not have all of my Lady’s knowledge, but I am wise enough to keep my distance from you and the needless death that follows in your wake.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, wary of each word and wondering if he might take offense from your rejection. From the tales told, the Olympians never took well to being ignored or spurned, but to indulge in the company of a god like Ares was no more appealing a choice. The look on Ares’ face remained pleasant, the corners of his lips set in a smug smile, and he let out a quick puff of laughter that would have been pleasant, had it not come from him.

“What a pity. Although I do not believe that choice is yours to make, little owl,” he began, closing some distance between you. You followed his movements intently, concerned he might draw one of the swords from his back and set upon you with every step closer. “Surely you do not think yourself beyond the bidding of one god solely because you serve another?”

Your hands clenched and unclenched nervously at your sides as you considered his words. Ares was right, of course. Being a priestess of Athena did not grant you any protection from other gods - not unless she interfered directly. And that kind of divine intervention was a rarity. You avoided his question and changed the subject, though you doubted he would be redirected so easily. The God of War was no fool.

“What do you really want? I’ve little time for games, my Lord.”

“I wish to see your technique for myself. Show me how that passion and diligence fares against a foe more than mortal,” he elaborated.

The blood in your veins ran cold upon his admission and your heart thudded so hard you wondered if it was audible from where he stood. Battling a god was firmly on the side of things you wished never to do. “If you think I’m dull enough that I would willingly engage the God of War, then you insult me, my Lord,” you said stiffly, trying to suppress your trepidation from worming into your voice and failing.

“What is it I hear beneath your bold tone? I trust one of my dear sister’s bold little priestesses, one of her champions, even, is not afraid of all things?” Ares taunted smoothly. From the way his self-assured smile twitched upward, barely, you knew he was enjoying your reaction.

“Fear and caution are not the same thing,” you denied fiercely.

“True enough, but it is not caution what gives you pause. If it puts you at ease, little owl, I will not take your life.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you scrutinized him intensely, finding no sign of whether he was lying or being genuine. All you found in those bloody eyes and stony face was cold calculation and an insatiable lust for violence. “Why should I believe you?” you asked, face twisting suspiciously.

“Because, beloved by my sister or not, if I so desired to kill you, I would have done so the instant you denied my invitation and spoke to me so disrespectfully.” He talked of ending you so casually it made you shudder, and you cursed yourself for it immediately.

It seemed you had little choice but to indulge Ares in whatever game he had in mind. “And if I agree - what is the benefit to me?” Ares had promised he wouldn’t kill you, but you saw no other purpose to fight him. You still weren’t sure he wouldn’t just kill you, despite his promise.

“Is serving one of the gods not benefit enough for you? What a greedy little owl my sister has found.” Again, Ares taunted you. You wondered if he was trying to make you angry enough to divest your caution and sabotage your battle prowess.

“That’s not an answer,” you spat back. God or not, you were tiring of whatever he was doing.

Fortunately, Ares cut to the chase. “Very well, best me and you shall have whatever boon of me you wish.”

“And if I lose?”

“Then, I shall take from you what I decide most fitting.:

“But not my life,” you added, still skeptical.

“You have my word,” Ares insisted. “Besides, would it not be such a waste to douse a promising ember when it could kindled and made to burn all around it?” he added in afterthought and once again the implications of his words unsettled you. “Now, I trust we are done with these tedious negotiations, hm?” he prompted.

Steeling yourself and willing away the stiffness and fear bubbling in your chest, you nodded. Ares had decided what the outcome of the discussion would be before he first spoke. There was nothing more to be said - at least not with words. Eyes trained on the intimidating figure of the God of War, you retrieved the shield and blade slung over your shoulders. You brandished them both, falling into the stance you were trained to use.

Across from you - hardly half a dozen feet off - Ares drew a weapon of his own. The sight of the curved blade incited your fear once more. The black blade was a ghastly thing, wickedly sharp and emanating a thick, billowing red haze the color of viscera. It was unmistakably a weapon befitting a god, and it made something deep inside you want to turn tail and run. But you knew running would be fruitless - all it would earn you was a head-sized loss of weight between your shoulders.

At once, the both of you moved slowly, following a wide circle, two shadowy beasts in the fading dusk searching for weaknesses and flaws. All of your training and wisdom told you to wait, let Ares come to you and make the first move. But you weren’t sure your reactive way of fighting would hold up against someone of his calibre. As Ares had implied, he was no mortal, and you could only imagine the horrible strength and skill behind his blade.

Ares shattered the heavy stillness abruptly, darting forward and making a low arcing swing up toward you. There was no hesitation behind the blow and you had the feeling if you hadn’t stopped it with your blade, his falcata would have carved a clean line into your torso. Ares may have promised not to kill you, but he wasn’t above grievously injuring you. He gave you little time to think on his intentions, however, another strike quickly following when you knocked his sword aside.

You caught that swing as well, on your shield this time, and your arm stung from the force that rang through it. Blow after blow rained down on you, forcing you on the defensive almost constantly, and even then, many near misses made you tense and wide-eyed. Eventually, you found some rhythm to his assault, and Ares even paused, granting you a scant few seconds to breathe and think. Still, you needed to analyze what you learned quickly - your enduring method of fighting wouldn’t suit well against his relentless onslaught. You had fought aggressive attackers in the past, but their strength and ferocity paled compared to Ares.

Eyes flashing to and fro, following the tuck and arc of his weapon, at the same time searching for openings, you readied to strike. You would need to be swift, perfect in your timing, and hold back nothing if you wanted any hope of breaching his flurry of blows. You took your chance when his fuming blade glanced off your shield at just the right angle to slide away, instead of adding more to the numbness in your shield arm. Dipping down, you swept your own blade under his arm and up. The metal scraped past one of his pauldrons and up, and your eyes shot wider when the tip of the blade reached out towards Ares’ face.

A swift kick pushed you back, leaving you winded, and you looked back up quickly. Ares was standing in place, a small distance away, but close enough to observe small details. His blade upheld in one hand, smoking menacingly, he lifted his free hand to his cheek, brushing away the slick of blood oozing from a diagonal cut across his cheek.Your heart fell at the sight of how little damage you had done. After all that time, you had given him what was barely more than what a mortal mine might suffer from a shaving accident. It was an ill omen when you were so used to your blade striking true and dispatching opponents in only a few strokes.

“Oh, what a splendid surprise.” Your blood may as well have turned to ice. Not at Ares’ words, but his tone.

Beneath the refined and formal speech, something almost excited could be heard. You had the sudden dreadful feeling that indulging the God of War’s little game had been a terrible mistake - even if there was no other choice. Excitement was a chilling thing to hear from a being who adored violence and death. You had expected anger, perhaps, or bitterness that a mortal had drawn blood against him. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock he liked to bleed as much as he liked to bleed others.

“Perhaps I underestimated you, little owl. Such skill seems wasted protecting others, do you not think so?” Ares asked, the hint of excitement vanished.

An indignation bubbled up beneath your dread, understanding Ares had meant your talents better suited to bloody slaughter and resenting that notion. You bristled, snapping back at him. “If I agreed, I would have served from the start, wouldn’t I?”

Ares ignored your response, as if he hadn’t heard. “I have seen more than enough, little owl. Our duel shall come to an end now,” he declared confidently. Again resentment and terror warred with one another within you.

When Ares bolted forward again, you barely thrust out your sword in time and turned his strike aside. The eerie cloud emanating from the blade seemed to have increased, tendrils of it whipping about, framing Ares ominously and obscuring your vision here and there. He didn’t stop at a single blow, striking out again and again as before, but with much more strength behind the attacks. The thought that your weapon and shield or arms might shatter from the force if things kept up flitted through your mind, distracting you for the barest moment.

Ares’ blade flashed forward, and your shield was thrust away, spinning through the air before crashing down and clattering to the ground. In a lightning quick motion, before you could bring your blade in to force his falcata away, the edge was leveled to your throat. You fell deathly still, the icy blade faintly touching your skin. One false move or a twitch of Ares’ wrist and all would be done.

The war god moved closer, grabbing your sword hand cruelly and twisting your blade from your fist. The hand that had disarmed you snapped to your head, grabbing a fistful of hair at the root and making you hiss. He drew your head back and the painful pinch of his blade scarcely cutting your skin made your pulse quicken. A warm trickle crept down your skin. Held between Ares’ hand and his blade, you dared not even breathe too deeply, so close were you to both.

Burning crimson watched you keenly, blazing with triumph and thet still unquenchable lust for blood. The blood you seeping from the shallow cut on your throat encouraged that bloodlust to greater heights rather than sate it. The thought made the space between you and the god feel heavy, airless.

“You fought magnificently, little owl. A far greater challenge even than I had foreseen,” Ares praised, not bothering to draw his weapon back. The tension hanging in the air, in fact, seemed thoroughly amusing to him, alluring even. You gathered all the resolve you possessed, fighting to glare defiantly at him. There was no room to show weakness. “How lovely that look suits you. Fearful, yet masked in defiance, even in the very face of death,” he drawled. You wondered if the god enjoyed his own voice as much as he enjoyed bloodshedl. “Do you believe me a liar?” Ares asked coolly after a moment of unsettling silence.

“I-” you opened your mouth intending to disagree, to ensure him you believed him - even if you didn’t trust him in the slightest -, but something stopped you. “Yes.” As the word escaped, you cursed yourself.

To your surprise, Ares’ proud smile grew. “Such an unwise thing to say,” he mused, “Are you trying to provoke me, now, little owl?” he asked nonchalantly, applying the scantest amount more pressure to his haze billowing blade. You winced, but quickly corrected your expression until your focus was on Ares once more. “No matter, our duel is over. Now comes time to take what I deem ample compensation for my victory.” At last, Ares drew back and took his falcata with him, and you could breathe again.

The start of a cold sweat broke out on your skin, and you felt clammy, except for the hot, sticky trickle drying on your neck. You swallowed thickly, willing your tongue to obey you, and spoke again after a moment of recovery. “So, what do you want? Out with it.” you pressed, perhaps too demandingly for one whom had been in your previous position. Yet with the blade no longer threatening to carve your throat open, you couldn’t help the annoyance and unease that crept into you.

“Tread carefully, little owl. I spared you before,” Ares reminded you casually, though the sharp warning edge suffused his words. He would take your insolence only so far. “Continue to disrespect me and I shall take your words as invitation to grant you a most painful end.” He paused, slipping his dark blade back where it belonged, before turning to you. “As the spoils of my victory, this ought to suffice.”

In an instant, so quick you had no time to wonder what had come over him, Ares was upon you again. His hand, having previously disengaged when he took his weapon away, returned, entangling itself in your hair again and forcing you to remain still. Before you knew it, Ares stepped uncomfortably close, bowing his head and slashing his lips across yours in a kiss that was neither delicate nor considerate. It was a kiss fueled by strength, full of teeth and heat that left you in a stupor.

Ares didn’t bother with the tedious task of coaxing your lips open with his tongue, choosing to bite down viciously, and blood oozed out to meet him. It slicked his teeth and tongue and your mouth fell open in a gasp of pain, and Ares thrust his tongue into your mouth. It swept along your teeth for a moment, before wrapping around your own and fighting it into submission. A heady metallic taste washed over you as you futilely tried to win the war of flesh. Blood. Your blood. Mixed with the coppery flavor was something more subtle, spicy and earthy at once.

When Ares relented and pulled away, you strove for breath, the taste of him and your blood lingering in your mouth. But he had only begun, giving you little time to recover. You had long enough to question why you had kissed him back - or had you been trying to fight him off? - before he jerked your head back and inclined his faced further. His lips, hot and the barest bit sticky, met the curve of your throat. He swept down your skin, leaving angry bite marks and blotches in his wake, until he was nestled against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, unprotected by armor and bared by your tunic.

He bit down again. Harder than before, and his teeth sank into you, another rush of blood welling up.You couldn’t control the pained cry that burst from your lips. You were used to injuries from training or battle, yet hardly in such sensitive places, and almost never from someone’s teeth. It burned when Ares lapped greedily at the wound and you hissed. His free hand had curled behind you at some time you hadn’t noticed, pressing you forward, the unyielding planes of his chest plate and pauldrons digging into you uncomfortable.

A new sensation was blossoming beneath the pain, one that should have been utterly foreign and unthinkable, given the brutality Ares was treating you with. Maybe it was the burning, hungry expression in Ares' eyes as he looked up from your skin, lips tinged red. Or maybe it was the crushing embrace he held you trapped in. Or maybe the way he held you utterly compliant and vulnerable in his grasp. Or maybe it was all of those things combined that made heat fill you from your core and pool between your legs. A dangerous, confused lust was rising - one it would have been wiser to reject.

“Such splendid sounds, little owl,” Ares said, his voice lower, a wild delight tinging it. “I desire to hear more. Do not disappoint me.”

With a rough push, your feet left the ground, and you tumbled backward away from Ares’ grip, too startled and dazed from the confounding feeling brewing in your belly and the painful throbbing in your lip and shoulder to catch yourself in time. You grimaced when you met the ground, making to prop yourself up. But Ares followed you, shoving you down completely and pinning you there. Again, his armor prodded uncomfortably at you. Past the pleated leather folds attached to the armor torso, something still distinctly hard, but much warmer prodded at you as well.

When large hands groped at your tunic - somehow both callous and perfect - some degree of sense insisted you stop him. But others argued with it. They insisted there was no point, this was the spoils Ares chose to claim. You wouldn’t be able to stop him if you tried. One devilish voice even craved more. Your internal debate crashed to a halt when Ares jerked your tunic down, the faint sound of fabric ripping lost to you. His lips fell upon your skin again where the fabric fell away, biting and sucking like he was trying to devour you. Many of them stung, not all as harsh as the bite to your shoulder, but several more drawing blood or leaving the areas soon to bruise, painting your skin in garish colors.

More pained sounds left your lips, gasps and whimpers and groans, though mixing more steadily into them were noises that belied some twisted pleasure. A hiss that became a moan. A gasp that turned into something breathy and thick. Something was stirring more and more hotly within you, transforming pain into a muted pleasure and adding fuel to the embers smoldering between your legs and in your belly.

Ares’ hands were as greedy as his lips, groping and kneading unmarred skin, roughly grabbing at your chest, pinching your nipples and making you cry out pitifully. Before long, he had covered your torso, shoulders, and neck in darkening bruises and blood, teeth marks and scrapes. Pulling away until he was looming over you like an ominous shadow, you could still make out the satisfied look languidly spread across his lips. His eyes seemed even more fiery, near crazed, as if he were high on your blood and pain.

“Such a careful, focused beast in the heat of battle. Now look at you, little owl, stained and trembling,” he purred, and his tongue trailed over his lips, cleaning the crimson staining them. “How beautiful a sight. The color suits you well.” He grabbed at your tunic some more, gathering the bottom around your waist, meeting the neckline he had pushed down. “As fragile and easy to see through as glass. Ought I shatter you like it, then?” Ares asked, greedily taking in the even larger expanse of flesh revealed to him. You wondered if he meant to litter the rest of you in similar marks.

Your lips parted, and you didn’t speak for a second, waiting for the mental gears to turn. Your only choice was the illusion of it, so you may as well as pretend your answer meant something. “Break me as you please, Lord Ares,” you told him, surprised to hear how your voice sounded. Strain and breathy, and the realization strengthened the heat and wetness at your center you couldn’t deny, likely plain to Ares’ eyes with your tunic no longer guarding it.

“How bold a choice of words, little owl.” Ares sounded pleased, possibly having expected you to retort defiantly, or have no words at all. Yet you had indulged his words instead. He trailed a thick finger gingerly over your throat, tracing over your racing pulse. “It would thrill me so to watch the life bleed from you.” You believed him completely. There was no denying in different circumstances Ares would revel in your death. “Alas, I shall have to make do sheathing a different blade within your supple flesh.”

A hint of excited impatience shone through as Ares sat back on his knees, leaving you to lie waiting in the dirt for what he would do next. With an iron grip, he grabbed your thighs, lifting them both off the ground and splaying them over his pauldrons, on either side of the crossed blades on his back. The cold touch of his armor on your overheated, abused skin made you shudder, and you watched as he lifted the lappets of the armor.

Your eyes lingered on what had thrust against you from behind layers of leather before, and you swallowed nervously. Ares was endowed impressively and in the embrace of a gentle lover that might promise a minor discomfort, but pleasure overall. Ares had shown no intention to treat you gently though - the ache and throb from the aftermath of his attention reinforced that - and you were under no illusion he was going to change that.

The new hesitation must have shown in your expression, a dangerous thrill creeping onto Ares’ own face as he brought the head of his cock to your folds. You thanked the stars that his brutal attentions had somehow elicited a perverse hunger from you, soaking your core. Though you imagined he would have fucked you raw whether or not you were wet. In fact, he might have enjoyed it more that way. Fortunately, his dick slipped slickly between your lips, gathering some of your wetness and pushing against your slit.

Ares didn’t take his time entering you, nor savor the moment, bucking his hips forward and splitting your cunt wide. You arched your back stiffly and hissed, both at the awful burn from the way his cock stretched you and the surprising satisfaction from the overwhelming fullness. You drew deep breaths, trying to adjust to the thick intrusion, fighting the pathetic whines that threatened to spill out.

Ares didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, rutting harshly against you, calloused hands digging roughly into your thighs. He leaned forward, bending you nearly in half, far enough a tendril of his silvery white hair brushed against your stomach, making your skin jump. The stretch ached to be sure - it would have even if Ares had been more thoughtful - but caught up in whatever perverse mood electrified the moment, there was pleasure bleeding into the pain.

Pleasure from the way he filled you so completely, creating a delicious friction that made your gut heat and tense. Pleasure from the rough slant of his hips against yours and his balls slapping your ass. Pleasure from the renewed vigor and sting of his lips and teeth attacking your neglected skin once more. It was agonizing and mindnumbing and enjoyable in a way you couldn’t have had any hope of explaining, at least not in a right sense of mind.

Each hard rock of his hips and searing puff of breath against your skin wore away at what little pride you retained, if you could claim to have any scrap left, looking such a mess. You might regret the memory later, but in the heat of the moment, there was no time for regrets or second thoughts. There was only room to try and enjoy what Ares had claimed as his reward.

As your dignity shattered and disintegrated like dust, the heat of your body and between your thighs grew, until you cried out into the air, the pleasure finally rising high enough to meet the pain and break loose from your throat between whines and winces. One loud cry that twisted and broke from another especially vicious bite must have gotten to Ares, eliciting an answering sound that was deep and primal.

Continuing to pound into your cunt, Ares looked up from his savagery of your skin, eyes glittering with amsement and lust of multiple kinds. His hot breath rolled over your bruised chest and his silky words rumbled over you. “You ought to thank me for my mercy,” he growled, and amidst the pain and pleasure you laughed to yourself. Mercy for a war god amounted simply to not killing you it seemed, even if the alternative was marking your body viciously and claiming it for himself. “Go on, then, little owl,” he compelled you, puncutating his words with a harder buck of his hips that left made you shout.

You opened your mouth, at first only pants and huffs and whimpers broke away. You gathered the words on your tongue he demanded of you. “Th-thank...aah...thank you, Lord Ares!” you cried out, surprisingly yourself. “Thank you f-for sparing me.”

He seemed satisfied with you pitiful answer, shaky and broken as it was, though he remained close to your skin. His pace grew stronger, faster, and he drew his tongue over some of the more bloody marks he’d left behind, coating his tongue again in your essence. His eyes swept hotly over his handiwork, bordering on frenzied. “Is it not such a wondrous feeling, to break bleed so, little owl?”

The smooth, husky tone of his voice, though it spoke such sick words - words you would have rejected in another setting - drove your own fervor higher, the molten spring of tension in your abdomen coming to the edge of its breaking point. You responded without hesitation, mind bent only on the promised releasen. “Yes, yes, my Lord!”

No more words fell between the two of you then, only the primal symphony of moans, grunts, groans, and gasps, enough to be heard by any soul unfortunate enough to be passing nearby. You hadn’t thought Ares’ thrusts could become any crueler, but as he chased and neared his own release, they did, until each thrust stung, hurting almost more than they pleased. His hands still clenched around your thighs and you could only imagine the intensity of the bruises that would be left behind - perhaps even worse than the many peppering your neck and chest and torso.

Despite the pain, your cunt squeezed around him, fluttering erratically as you danced on that edge so, so close. Until at last, it burst. But not before Ares finished with a sound so dark and heavy and alluring it could be called inhuman. Your walls embraced him even tighter as his cum filled you to overflowing, hot and wet, and you screamed and cried into the darkness of evening that had taken over.

When all was still at last, youtruly began to feel the extent of the damage Ares had done. He didn’t remain atop you much longer, not seeming to need to catch his breath, and when he pulled out of you, you shuddered, feeling sore and empty. Already tired before Ares had sought you out, and even more so after your combat, you were completely and utterly exhausted. Lying there, each pound of your heart making the bites and bruises pound along with it, you wondered if passing out in the dirt was a viable option.

Ares didn’t concern himself with your thoughts, however, or whatever it was you intended to do now that he was finished with you - for now at least. He just looked down at you, tucking himself back beneath the lappets of his armor and looking no worse for the wear. “Farewell, little owl. Do take care. And consider what I have said,” he began. “Your talents ought be used for something far more satisfying.”

You didn’t answer, letting your eyelids slide closed for a minute. When you opened them again, you were alone and the air was still and silent. You begrudgingly sat up, preparing to tackle the ordeal of standing and making the rest of your way home and to your bed. You wondered how you were going to explain your state to your fellows the following day.

#writing #fanfic #areas #ao3 #archive of our own #fic friday #update #weekly #request #anon request #tw: blood #tw: dubious consent

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 24--Best Laid Plans

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary: Ienzo and Xemnas go down to the lab.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

The lab was colder than Ienzo remembered.

How many hours had he spent here as a boy, perched on somebody’s knee or getting in the way? And even then, despite the fact that not much could be done with the architecture of the room, there were always books, and cups of tea, and laughing people to make the room feel less sterile.

It was cold--literally and figuratively--and empty, and silent other than the hum of the cooling fans, the ventilation.

“What is it you need?” Xemnas asked him.

Ienzo considered. He’d never done this without wires before, so it might be more complicated than he’d thought. “Watch the doors. Let me know if someone’s coming. I can’t keep up an illusion if I’m in there.”

It shouldn’t be easy to trust Xemnas, and to a degree it wasn’t--his heart was racing, and he hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before. The only piece of good news in all this, relatively speaking, was that he’d started his period. One less thing to worry about. The thought of it was at the forefront of his mind; not because it was necessarily worse than he remembered, but because the last time he’d done such work, he’d been pregnant.

Xemnas tapped in the password. “It’s DoorToDarkness, for future reference,” he told Ienzo.

He almost groaned. “You’re kidding.”

A smile. “My father is nothing if not literal.” He touched Ienzo’s shoulder. “What do you need from me?”

“Keep watch. If someone comes… wake me.” There was a chair nearby; Ienzo dragged it over. He held his hands over the keys and let the magic flow under his skin.

The sensation was not so overwhelming now that he was used to it, but to be on the other side was odd. He looked around, taking in shelves of books that served as a metaphor for files. Where to begin?

“Ienzo? Is that you?”

The relief he felt was immense. “Tron. Thank goodness.” It was dark here; he squinted.

“Oh, so good to know you’re okay. The…” He gestured to Ienzo’s stomach. “Everything’s… okay?”

“A little girl. Almost seven months old.”

“Oh, that’s good. That’s very good.”

There was something smooth about his tone. Something odd. Off-putting. “Come into the light?”

Tron did so. He still wore a neat suit, but it was different, flecked through with threads of red that looked more like cracks. His expression was pinched, pained, and he moved with difficulty. “Hello, user,” he said. “I’m afraid you are--unauthorized--”

“Tron?”

“Another user is--accessing critical data--” He twitched. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry.”

“Xemnas!” Ienzo screamed. “Wake me up! Wake me up now!” He hadn’t realized how dependent he’d become on Cid’s interfacing with him to get out . He tried to run from Tron, but with a glitch he was thrown against one of these shelves, a pair of hands around his throat.

“I’m--sorry--user--I’m--interfacing--accessing--memory--”

Ienzo struggled, feeling Tron flicking through his mind, but this body could not breathe . Had Xemnas betrayed him? Why was this happening? But why would Xemnas betray him if--

Amalia flickered in his mind’s eye. The image flickered… and held. Tron’s grip loosened around his throat, and he fell. “No. No. Please. No.”

“Terminal--upload--copying--fifty-four percent--”

Ienzo pushed Tron hard, but the program just slumped over. “Do you know what you just did?”

Suddenly, with force, he found himself back in his body, which was in the process of being thrown. Ienzo hit the wall hard. His ears were ringing, and his vision grew blurry. He thought maybe he’d broken a rib or two and gasped for breath. He saw a crumpled brown-and-silver mass near the computer--Xemnas--and a pair of black boots approaching him.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy, haven’t you, Ienzo?” Young Xehanort asked. “Both of you.”

“How did you--”

“A program is not a person. All you have to do is mess with them a little , and they’ll hand you everything you need to know on a plate.” He stepped on Ienzo’s chest, pressing hard. “So naturally, when you began to be friends with my brother, who has always suffered so dramatically from middle child syndrome… well, it was only a matter of time, right?”

“What will you do?” He had to gasp the words.

“Well, considering the wealth of information I just accessed… I have a lot of work to do. Wouldn’t you like to see your family, Ienzo?” He pressed harder, and Ienzo’s vision started to darker. “Wouldn’t you like to hold your little baby again? I can do all that and more. Yes. I think they’ll all be quite comfortable where we can see them.”

“Don’t hurt her--”

Hands snapped to his throat. “You have no right to tell me what to do.”

Darkness.

---

A cold, wet cloth was being pressed against his throat. Not hard, but enough to be disorienting. Ienzo gasped a little.

“Easy. Easy.” Xemnas’s voice. “You’re hurt. Don’t move.”

The air smelled musty, and his body felt wrong , his power dead, heavy. His chest ached tremendously, and so did his throat. He tried to swallow. His vision wouldn’t quite focus.

“Seems to me several ribs are broken, and you may have a concussion. You were also strangled until you lost consciousness.”

“Where--” He tried to ask, but all it sounded like was “wh”.

“We’re being kept in a cell in my brother’s lab. Fitting, is it not? Try not to speak. You may damage your vocal cords further.”

Ienzo tried to sit up, but the pain almost made him cry out. Xemnas eased him back down onto the small cot.

“Do you think you can drink some water? I’ve no idea if it will help, but--” Water running, a cold metal cup being brought to his lips. “At least we have this much.”

The cold water both hurt and felt good to get inside of him. “S...sorr…”

“There’s no way you could’ve anticipated this, Ienzo.”

“Tron… corru…”

“He was quite proud to tell me he’s been watching you for some time. I promise I had no idea.”

“My… my ba…”

“I do not know if my father pursued them. If they’re smart, they might be able to get away. But knowing him… the whole city watch, Heartless, would’ve found them with ease. I like to think my father would not kill an innocent child. Not if she might be of use.”

He felt a thick rush of tears, and the added swelling in his throat made him unable to breathe for a moment. Xemnas dampened the cloth around his throat again. “I’m trying to figure this out. Somehow. There are still people on our side. You must rest.”

“I can’t… My dau…” He coughed, so hard and for so long his vision went gray, between the broken ribs and the swelling in his throat. He tasted blood. Xemnas turned him so that he might spit it into the empty cup.

“...I just hope there’s no internal damage.”

There was the sound of muffled beeping, and a metal door sliding open. Ienzo was so dizzy, and nauseous; definitely concussed, he decided hazily.

“My father desires an audience.”

“Brother--”

“You are no brother of mine.”

“At least give the child a potion. He can barely breathe.”

“As if I would trust a single word that comes out of your filthy mouth. Come. Get up . I’ll drag you if I have to.”

Ienzo swallowed blood. “Hel… help…”

Xemnas eased him gently to his feet. The man flinched when he took Ienzo’s weight--he must’ve been injured somehow too--and when he set Ienzo on his own, his whole abdomen ached from the lack of support.

Young Xehanort grabbed his wrist roughly and towed him out of the cell. Every step, every breath , hurt, and he wasn’t completely convinced he would stay conscious. He tried to bear it, if so to beg for his daughter’s life, and in a strange fugue he found himself in the throne room.

“My dear prince. ” There was venom to his words now. “Well. I should’ve known better, shouldn’t I? You played your cards almost perfectly . Were it not for my son’s vigilance, you could’ve wrought a whole lot of havoc, couldn’t you?”

Ienzo’s vision was blurry. He took a few stumbling steps forward and knelt, despite the wave of agony it caused him. “F-forgive…”

“We’re beyond that, I think.”

“P-please don’t hu--” He spat up more blood. He heard a muffled scream to his right, and the sound was so familiar that fear washed through him. As slowly as he could without causing himself pain, Ienzo turned towards the source of the noise.

Demyx. Crumpled at the foot of Young Xehanort’s throne, his hands bound. Ienzo just barely saw Braig behind them, his expression stony.

Xehanort smiled. “I’m sure our guest needs no introduction. You have quite a close relationship, don’t you? It’s alright. Say hello. Go to him.”

Demyx dashed over to him. “Ienzo. Ienzo. You’re so--” He could do little more than dab the blood off of his face.

“Wh-when did he--”

“They got us last night. All of us. At once.”

“Whe--”

“She’s okay. She’s okay, Ienzo. He left her with Even.”

“...Enough chit chat, I think.”

Demyx knelt and helped Ienzo lean against him. He pressed Ienzo’s hand, very subtly, against his pocket. Ienzo could feel the outline of a knife. No doubt that in the panic of their capture Demyx had been too worried about the baby to use it. Ienzo tried to work it out with small twitches.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

There were Heartless guards, even if Braig decided to help them. Even if Xehanort truly was as frail as he looked--and Ienzo was sure he wasn’t--there was also the matter of his son, glowering behind him, his own power not to be underestimated. Ienzo was wounded, his power jammed, and potentially all Xehanort would have to do was whisper before his whole family was killed.

But what else could he do? He was found out. Surely that wouldn’t mean leniency. And honestly? He’d rather everyone be dead than forced into a life of suffering and servitude. The knife slid into his hand, and he forced it up his sleeve as Xehanort spoke.

“You’ve caused me an awful lot of trouble, with your antics,” Xehanort began. “So much so that I can’t even justify keeping you as a pet. You’ve made it personal, so I shall do the same in turn. Child?”

But he was not speaking to Ienzo--all of a sudden there was another muffled cry and Demyx was pulled away from him. Young Xehanort dragged him across the stone, and despite Demyx’s struggling, it was fruitless. He threw him down at his father’s feet.

“What do you want?” Ienzo forced out painfully. He glanced at Braig. Do something, he thought desperately.

“Ienzo, it is not nice to hurt people who have treated you well.” He grasped Demyx by the hair. “It’s a shame. You could’ve been useful to me too. Seeker blood. You must be close to the last of your kind, no?”

“Fuck you,” Demyx spat, and Xehanort kicked him hard in the groin. “I’ll kill you,” he continued. “I’ll ki--”

It happened so fast that Ienzo could barely see it; all he knew was that suddenly Demyx was bleeding heavily from a spot below his heart, curling and convulsing on the cold marble.

“Rather annoying, that one,” Young Xehanort said.

Xehanort came closer to him. “You see, Ienzo, you need motivation ,” he continued. “You agree to help me, truly help me, and I’ll heal him. I’ll heal you both. Your child, your filthy family , will be safe. There is no need for suffering. It is counterproductive to what I want. You could usher in a new era of knowledge, of equality .”

“D-don’t--” Demyx forced out. “Don’t--”

“Shut up, boy. Kingdom Hearts could be ours . Your power, our strength. Decide quickly, Ienzo. It seems you’re running out of time.”

The proper thing to do would be to submit. Agree absolutely, yes, just stop the bleeding. Try to con his way out of this. But seeing Demyx twitch on the ground drowned out all reason, and something snapped. Ienzo screamed. Heat bled out of him, forcing against the jam, shattering it, a wave of magic making his skin burn. The sight of Demyx’s blood only made the burn worse, scalding, needing to get near him to heal , his whole soul crying out in agony. Suddenly it became clear why it was called soul binding.

“I told you he would not see reason,” Young Xehanort spat. “Why do you keep going after and after what will never succumb to you?”

Ienzo reached for the knife. Xehanort grasped his face. “This pain will pass, boy. This world can be… great again. I can shepherd in an era of--”

“Like hell you will.” It took the rest of his physical strength, but Ienzo took the knife, and all of his power, and he forced it outward, the Heartless guards to shiver and collapse and he forced the metal up through flesh and bone-- Xehanort collapsed, and the blood ran hot against Ienzo, but he didn’t care. He saw Braig grasp at Young Xehanort’s head and slit his neck. He could barely feel his body in this strange maelstrom of pain and numbness. He dragged himself over to Demyx, who had gone pale and still. “No.” He slapped at his face. “No, no, no--”

“Zo,” he slurred.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” He held his hand over the wound and pulled. Healing Isa had been easy, with the magic from the birth, but he was fighting the jamming, and his own weakness, and he could not feel his own body, though somehow he felt like he was on fire --

Amalia needed Demyx.

The thought of her gave him enough strength to heal the wound--

“Zo?” Demyx’s voice was stronger now, and suddenly Ienzo was being the one cradled. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move --

“I killed him. They’re dead,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong--why are you--”

“Too much…” He heard more than felt his teeth chattering. “Too much magic--”

“How do I fix it?”

“Can’t.”

“What do you mean I can’t?”

“Can’t--”

Then, the sound of footsteps and another voice-- “Braig--? Ienzo? ”

“Even--how did you--you’re covered in blood--”

“Not mine--don’t worry about that--”

“Dad?” Ienzo forced out.

“Child…”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s in… shock. I need…”

For a long while, everything just stopped.

#heartlines #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #xemnas #tron (kingdom hearts)#young xehanort #master xehanort

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