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feelin-woozy · 4 years ago

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Title: Sins of the Flesh

Word Count: 4,541

Pairing: Stu Macher / Reader / Billy Loomis

Warnings: Trans masc reader, but pronouns are hardly mentioned so 🤷‍♂️. This is just pure unadulterated filth but that's between God and me.

Also, unbeta'd because I was not making one of my poor friends read this lmao.

Summary:

The two of you move together in a delicate push and pull. Despite the sloppiness of it, each movement was carefully calculated. Your lips are slow and languid, taking your time to strip Billy down as Stu’s is more steadfast and keen. It’s uneven, but it’s familiar, just another step to the dance the three of you have perfected.

[AO3 LINK]

As quiet as the two of you try to be, the bed still creaks with each movement. One hand is locked with Stu’s by your head, the other threaded through soft blonde curls as you cradle his skull. Your lips meet, again and again, a weak attempt at trying to swallow the soft noises that threaten to spill from kiss bitten lips.

The movements of his hips are slow but deliberate, brushing against all the right spots that have your back lifting from the bed as you desperately try and push yourself closer to him. You could never get enough of Stu or Billy, for that matter. Each time calloused hands would brush along your soft skin, it would set your nerves ablaze. Their touch was intoxicating, even when you knew what those hands were capable of. If anything, it drew you further, like Alice falling down into the depth of Wonderland.

There’s something sick about it; it’s not something that should draw you in. But when those hands grace your skin with such reverence, you can’t help but melt into it. Teeth sink into your lower lip, worrying the flesh softly and drawing a sharp gasp from your throat. Your fingers curling into a tight grip within Stu’s hair.

“You’re going to wake him up.” You hiss as your eyes shift slightly to gaze at the man who sleeps next to you. You watch the way Billy’s chest rises and falls with easy even breaths with parted lips. He looks peaceful like this, and it makes warmth flood your chest. It’s a sharp juxtaposition to what the two of you were doing next to him. There was an innocence to the way he slept soundly as Stu fucked into you, tempting pleasure laced noises to tumble into the darkness that enveloped you all.

“Don’t really care.” Stu murmurs, letting out a soft laugh that washes your face with warm bursts of air. You’re not sure that you do either, not when he kisses you again, pushing his tongue into your mouth to drag along the backs of your teeth. Any anxieties or misgivings that you may have felt before wash away with the way Stu tastes on your tongue. You can still taste the lingerings of mint on him from when he had brushed his teeth earlier.

You lift a leg and hook it around the small of his back to drag him closer. The action has him letting out a rumble of approval, and the hand that wasn’t linked with yours comes to grip at your hip. Bitten down nails dig into the skin there, hard enough to make you squirm. You only hope there will be marks left to remind you of this and that this wasn’t just night that blurred into a dreamy state.

“ Fuck .” The voice cuts through the air, startling both you and Stu. You go to open your mouth to say something to Billy, but the words die on your tongue when Stu slams into you, sending the headboard to knock against the wall with some force.

“Like what you see?” Stu breaths turning his head to smirk at the other. The shadows play over his face as he turns his head, a dark glint in his eyes as he stares at Billy. “Wanna join?”

Billy stares at him for a moment, blinking away the sleep in his eyes as he takes in the sight before him. He lets out a soft, shaky exhale, cheeks flushing as he shifts in the bed to get a better look at the display before him before he nods his head slowly.

The bedsprings cry out under the rough pounding, the sounds joining in the carnal noises and the contact of their bodies. There was no need to be quiet any longer, not when Billy was staring at the two of you with a dazed look.

“Too bad.” Stu laughs; the sound is taunting and bold. It’s not the usual tone he holds for Billy within the confines of your bedroom; more often than not, both you and Stu were obeisant for the man. Chasing the pleasure that he controlled with cold, calculated looks that dripped with saccharine. But there’s something about Billy staring at you with bleary eyes and sleep still evident on his face that leaves Stu to toe the line of what he may not get away with ordinarily. “You’re gunna lay there and watch us and then maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll make you cum after.” His lips pull into a wicked grin as he dips down to press a wet kiss to the curve of your neck, nipping at the flushed skin. “Right baby?”

He doesn’t leave you room to answer, not that you could manage anything more than an intelligible babble at this point. And knowing Stu, the man would take that as praise and encouragement. You’re certain that the neighbors would be woken by the sounds that seeped from your bedroom. The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin were almost deafening. You could hear how wet you were, and the pleasure tinted shame had your head tipping back against the soft pillows.

You move your hand, untangling it from Stu’s hair to trace along the muscles of his arms, feeling them flex under his movements before you dig your nails into his skin. “ Fuck, Stu .”

“Stu, come on, don’t be mean.” Billy’s words don’t have the usual weight to them; that mean cutting edge he held when he wasn’t getting his way. There was something more complacent in his tone that only came when he was pulled from sleep or too tired to put up a fight against a losing battle.

The taller man thinks for a moment, eyes bouncing between your face and Billy as he lazily rolled his hips against you. Finally, he lets a wry smirk spread over his face. “Fine, touch yourself, but don’t you dare fucking come.”

Billy looks at him for a moment as if he was contemplating the order. You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, likely swallowing the urge to turn the tables and make Stu’s world spin on its axis. But he moves quickly but sluggishly, lifting his hips to shove his briefs down past his thighs. He kicks them off, sending them to land somewhere in the room as his cock springs free, bobbing against his stomach. Even in darkness, you can see how precum glints within the light of the moon that peaks through the blinds. He grasps his cock, lazily stroking himself as he watches you and Stu.

You tip your head back as you feel chapped lips drag along the plane of your neck.

“He feels so good Billy,” Stu groans, hips stuttering briefly before he drives into you with enough force to rip a cry from your throat. “So fucking wet for me .” he pants before his teeth sink into your neck. You feel the way his words reverberate over your neck, the action making you tremble. “Tell Billy how good you feel, baby.”

“H-hah, fuck,” You sputter as you drag the blunt of your nails down against his arms, leaving angry red lines to rise in their wake. Words don’t form easily in your mind. You have to fight to get anything past broken syllables past your lips; when you do, they come out in shuddering cries. “Good, shit Billy, he’s so good.”

You’re expecting anger to flash over Billy’s face at those words, at knowing it was Stu getting you like this and not him. Not that he hadn’t done this to you time and time again, but this paired with being forced headfirst into a submissive role likely wouldn’t have sat right with him. And perhaps if it was any other situation, there would be anger that brewed within his eyes. Instead, Billy lets out an unabashed moan, hips rising to meet his fist as he watches the scene that plays out before him.

“Can I kiss him?” You blink up at Stu, tongue flicking out to wet your lips as you stare at the man, searching his face for any form of permission from him. Tonight, it was clear that Stu was in charge. And you didn’t mind in the slightest; you were happy to follow his commands with effortless precision, like a devout believer following their scripture.

He nods his head eagerly, excitement flickering in his eyes at the proposition. Billy is quick to meet your movements, turning his head to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. Billy didn’t hold back in kissing you, tongue eagerly brushing along yours as he moaned into your mouth.

The hand that was wrapped around his cock moves quickly, sliding awkwardly between Stu and you to come and pinch at your clit. It’s not the best angle, but it doesn’t matter. The sudden sensation still has you pulling away from the kiss as your back arches like a bow. You think you hear the two of them laugh at you, but you can’t be too certain. Too drunk on the feeling of Billy slowly toying with you and bringing you swiftly to your own release.

“Gunna come for us baby?” Billy whispers, leaning over and forcefully capturing your lips in his again. You nod against him, lips clumsily trying to match his movements. Your body pulls taut, muscles flexing and relaxing as you let out a scream that is reminiscent of a banshee, as your release drags you under unforgiving waves.

“Fuck, you two are so hot.” Stu groans, watching the way the scene below him play out. It was desperate and frantic, Billy’s teeth sinking into your lower lip hard enough to draw soft whimpers from your throat as you were fucked into oversensitivity.

You feel the way Stu begins to tremble against you, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. The movements of his hips are brutal, an unforgiving pace that had become stuttered as he neared his release. It doesn’t take long before he comes, a sharp cry tumbling past rosy lips as his cock pulses and he’s filling you up.

With a sort of reluctance, he pulls away, sitting back on his heels to admire the sight before him. The way his cum dribbles out of you, how Billy is still eagerly kissing you and how his hand is back on his cock.

Stu had to give the man props for not going against his word and bringing himself over the edge. Perhaps Billy was just as eager to see how this would play out. Stu lets out a contemplative hum before leaning over and grabbing Billy by the hair and drawing him away from you. He leans in close, dragging his lips over the curve of the man’s neck and drinking in the way gooseflesh rises over his skin.

“I want you to eat my cum out of him.” Stu murmurs just low enough that you almost miss it. Color pours over Billy at that, his cheeks turning a dusty pink that spills down his torso. “Don’t you want to make him cum on your tongue? Go on, see how good we taste.”

They move quickly, shifting places with each other so that Billy was settling between your legs and Stu was at your side. He maneuvers your body easily like you were nothing more than a rag doll to be situated to his pleasure. Not that you minded, it was rare that Stu was in a mood like this, or more so rare that Billy relinquished any sense of control, so you reveled in the way Stu moved to sit behind you before pulling you back, so your back was pressed against the damp skin of his chest.

Billy doesn’t waste time; he starts by kissing along your hips, slowly dragging his lips along the soft hair that covers your thighs. He stops to suck a bruise into the skin, lifting his eyes to lock with yours. It’s hard to fully make out the features of his face as shadows dance over him, but you still catch the wild look in his dark eyes.

“Don’t have all-” You jolt at the feel of his tongue gliding through your slick folds. They melt away into a breathy gasp as you lean back against Stu’s chest, who coos at you adoringly.

Billy moves his hands to run along the firm muscles of your thighs, the pads of his fingers digging in softly before slung your legs over his shoulders, holding onto your hips to keep you in place. A slight whine of frustration bubbles from within your throat at the sudden restriction; you wanted nothing more than to press back and rock yourself against Billy’s face.

Soft chuckles float through the air from both Billy and Stu, the sound mixing like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. Though you don’t have time to dwell on it, not when Billy is dragging the point of his tongue through your folds. You can feel the way Stu’s cum and your slick is pushed around with the tip of his tongue, and the imagery makes you shudder against their respective holds on you. Billy shows his pleasure with a low groan, eyes fluttering closed as he greedily works his tongue inside of you.

You shift in their hold, body wound tight as heat sears every nerve that runs through your body. There was no way you could escape either of them; you were trapped like prey waiting to be devoured by the two men. Not that you minded, it was blissful to be taken apart by them time and time again only to be rebuilt with their careful hands.

“Taste good, baby?” Stu breathes as he watches Billy, the warm air tickling your skin. The man between your legs lets out an exaggerated moan of his agreement as his grip on your hips tightens. You can’t stop the way your body writhes or the way Billy’s name tumbles past your lips in a fit of desperation as he begins to eat you out like a man starved.

You’re only absently aware of the way Stu’s hand moves along your chest, fingers dancing along the thin scars that littered your torso. His touch is merely an afterthought, a feeble attempt at keeping you grounded as your impending release coils violently within the pit of your belly for the second time tonight. Tipping your head back, you manage to catch Stu’s eyes in a heated gaze. You take note of the way he stares at you with a look that borders on manic, the way his lips twitch in the excitement that comes with watching you fall apart at their hands.

Eyes fall shut as you exhale a sharp breath, one hand coming to curl in the thick brown locks between your thighs, the other coming to grasp desperately lace with Stu’s hand. “Such a good boy for us, Billy.”

The praise has Billy whining, the noise reverberating against your core and sending bolts of lightning to shoot through your body. One of the hands that gripped your hips moved carefully, coming to brush along your clit. The first brush of his thumb was tentative as he observed your reaction. It was almost kind of him to test the waters first, opposed to how he would usually cruelly toy with your body well past the point of oversensitivity. Your thighs quaked around his head, and you wiggle in his hold, breath caught in your throat before he pressed his thumb more insistently into the engorged flesh.

It doesn’t take long now, with the easy movements of his thumb and the way his tongue dives into you fervently. You can feel the way your cunt flutters around his tongue, the way the muscles in your thighs tighten, and how Stu squeezes your hand, muttering quiet praise into your ear as you sob through your release.

Billy only draws back, sitting once he’s confident he’s fucked you through your release. He stares down at you with a predatory gaze, lips and chin slick with you and Stu’s releases. He doesn’t seem to mind as he licks lips greedily. You can’t find words yet, chest heaving as you try and put your mind together once more but to no avail.

Thankfully, Stu speaks for the two of you as he strokes your hair away from your sweat slicked forehead. “Was that good?” Stu purrs lowly, pressing his lips to the side of your head, “Think we should make him cum?”

Billy waits as patiently as he can as he awaits the verdict, his hands balling up in tight fists that rest along his thighs. You take a moment and let your eyes roll over his flushed and sweaty body, eyes stopping only to take in the sight of his flushed cock, beads of precum glistening at the tip, and dribbling down along the length. Finally, you find the words begin to form in your head, “I think he earned it.”

The excitement that Billy exudes over those words is damn near palpable. You can feel the way he has to fight against his carnal desires to tear both you and Stu to shreds for his pleasure. But he waits there patiently, lips parting in a shaky exhale as his eyes bounce between you and Stu.

You smirk at Billy before tipping your head back to catch Stu’s lips in a soft kiss. “Think he deserves to fuck one of us?” You ponder aloud as you feel Stu’s teeth catch your lower lip between his teeth. “Or maybe we should blow him.”

“Let’s blow him.” Stu murmurs, shifting his gaze to look at Billy. “He’s lucky he even gets that after rudely interrupting us.”

You give Stu a final peck before pulling away, turning to look at Billy as well. The man doesn’t falter under you and Stu’s gaze; instead, you see something fiery brewing within his eyes like maybe he’s amused enough with the game being changed by the two of you that he’s just barely willing to indulge the two of you. Thus far, he had gone along, so the two of you were likely in the clear of Billy attempting to retain control.

The three of you move around the bed easily, like a silent dance the three of you have perfected over your time together. One that should anyone else see, they’d fail to recreate it. Billy sits with his back to the dark wood headboard, legs splayed in a way that radiates confidence as Stu and you settle awkwardly between his spread thighs.

“Can’t wait to wipe that smug fucking look right off your face.” Stu laughs, long fingers raking along Billy’s thighs. Billy just smiles at him, feigning innocence as if he doesn’t have a clue what the other is talking about. A quiet unspoken challenge that you and Stu were happy to rise to if it meant deconstructing Billy into a sniveling mess.

And the fact he trusts you guys enough to try it made your heart lurch in your chest. You don’t let your mind wander too far, too caught up in the lust that hung heavily in the air to really dwell on anything softer.

Your hand wraps around the base of Billy’s cock and strokes him slowly for a brief moment, eyes bouncing between watching his cock throb excitedly in your hand and the way his eyes flutter at the sudden friction. The sigh of relief that Billy lets out when your lips wrap around his cock borders on being cute if such a thing could exist within this state of debauchery.

“Think he likes it,” Stu sings, and even without looking at him, you know that he’s smiling. Warmth in his eyes as he watches the two of you.

You start licking broad stripes along his cock, dragging the tip of your tongue along in a teasing manner that has Billy’s hips rising in a weak attempt at seeking more. Before you can hold him the way he held you, you hear Stu ruffling beside you.

“Ah, ah ah.” Stu chides, bringing a hand to steady Billy’s hips. You observe the way nails sink into the soft skin, a gentle warning. “Don’t move, don’t want you busting like a virgin.”

“You two are going to be the death of me.” Billy grumbles, letting his head fall back against the headboard with a thump. But his hips still relax, settling back down into the plush mattress. You can nearly feel the way he fights against rocking his hips when you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, but you hum softly in approval as you take him further into your mouth till you feel him nudging the back of your throats.

“I can think of worse things.” Stu shrugs with a snicker as he watches the way Billy’s fingers curl into the sheets below. He leans down as your head bobbed up, carefully maneuvering himself so he could lick at the exposed area that you hadn’t taken into your mouth.

Sounds of slick and enthusiastic sucking fill the space in between where Billy doesn’t groan. Spit dribbling down the length of his cock and smearing along yours and Billy’s chin in a way that has you feeling utterly dissolute.

“Fuck,” Billy groans, thighs flexing as he fights against wildly bucking up into you and Stu’s mouth. It was messy and obscene, the wet sounds of the two of you working Billy’s cock in an easy rhythm filling the room. “Oh fuck,” The words mindlessly tumble off his tongue, and you can tell that he’s fighting not to spill then and there with the way his hips had begun to rock slowly and how his knuckles blanched under the force of his grips. “ Close .” He warned, the noise broken and debauched.

You pulled back with a pop, Stu following your movements wordlessly though he didn’t stop from tilting his head as he stared at you with a mischievous smirk and raised brow. You stare down at Billy, watching the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, the way his brows knit together as thinly veiled anger and annoyance flashes over his face. He grits his teeth, and you laugh at him.

“Do you wanna fuck his face?” You murmur, raising a brow as you stare at Billy. Any anger he may have previously held washes from his face as quickly as it had taken hold. Stu’s laugh echoes through the air with giddy excitement.

“Yeah?” Billy asks, looking at the two of you with skepticism, his brown eyes swimming with dazed pleasure as he blinks lazily. It was as if the offer was too good to be true after all that you had put him through. You watch the way he tries not to look overly excited like he wasn’t jumping at the first opportunity to ravage the two of you should that chance never come.

“Course, you’ve been so good for us, baby.” You hum softly, carefully moving from between his thighs to rest beside him. You grasp his face in yours, nails digging softly into his cheek before catching his lips in a slow kiss. A hand comes to cradle the back of Billy’s skull as you rake your nails lightly along his scalp.

By the way, Billy gasps into your mouth, you assume that Stu’s mouth is on him again. You know for a fact that Stu’s mouth is swallowing him down to the base when you watch a hand sink into short curls and the sudden sound of wet choking swirls through the air.

Teeth sink into your lower lip as a hand worms its way into your hair, fisting it in a tight grip that has you whining as the pain spreads over your scalp. Any pretenses of submission are quickly lost as Billy finds his footing with ease, easily slipping into his usual role now that the two of you had your fun.

The bed begins to creak once more, protesting against the almost violent movements of Billy’s hips. The slick sounds of spit and barely staved off gagging hanging heavily in the air. It made the air thick and smothering, and you almost found it hard to breathe.

Billy lets out sharp, stuttered puffs of air against your lips. The two of you weren’t even kissing at this point; Billy just held you there, foreheads pressed against each other as he used Stu’s throat to chase his own release.

“You two are real brats, know that?” He growls low in his throat, but his words tremble violently. You can’t take him too seriously when he sounds so broken and deranged. Though you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on when he got like this, so wound up that when the tension finally snapped, he was damn near rabid.

“Maybe next time you should put us in our place.” You whisper quietly enough that you aren’t sure if Stu can hear you, but you know that Billy does the way he snarls and nods his head quickly.

Not long after, Billy is crying out, the fist in your hair tightening enough that you cry out in pain as his climax hits him with enough force that if he were standing, he would crumble and fold like wet cardboard. You shift your gaze to Stu, watching the way he strokes his hands along Billy’s thighs as he dutifully swallows around Billy.

Slowly, Billy goes slack, relaxing his hold on both Stu and you enough that the two of you can worm your way out of his grip. He nearly deflates into the mattress with a sated sigh.

“I think he enjoyed that.” Stu laughs, looking at you with a dopey grin. His eyes are glossy with moisture, and his cheeks are rosy but still, even in this state, he beams at you.

Billy cracks open an eye to look at Stu and you before letting his eyes close again. A smile pulls at his lips, though, and you can’t help but preen as you feel the warmth that rolls off his body in thick waves.

“What gave it away?” You chuckled as you moved to settle yourself back into the bed. The depravity in the air had begun to subside, shifting into something sleepy, warm, and safe . You turn and press a gentle kiss to Billy’s chest before you rest your head there, watching as Stu fumbled with the blankets, dragging them over the three of you before he too settled into Billy’s side.

“Love you guys.” Billy gets out through a yawn, and the two of you murmured your love for him before you allowed the warm afterglow to slowly lull you into sleep.

#Billy loomis x reader x stu macher #poly ghostface #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x stu macher #billy loomis x you #stu macher x billy loomis #slasher x reader #This is just pure fucking filth ok #also likes r good but reblogs bring me joy #esp if u leave little comments in the tags #my writing

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purplepirate123 · 2 years ago

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Writeblr Intro

(Take 1,792)*

Hi, writers of Tumblr! I thought I'd try this again since every other time has been... Not great lol. Mostly my doing, but I think I've figured it out.

Aurthor name: Rebecca/R. K. Fisher

Age: 28

Pronouns: She/her

Writing From: Cleveland, Ohio USA

Sexual Orientation: Labels have never worked for me, but I'm married to a wonderful person ❤️

Educational Background: Bachelor's Degree following English and Wiring (2016), 36 Credit Hours of a Master's of Library and Information Science Degree (left in February 2019). Now considering an MFA ccuuzzz why not add more to my student loan debt 🙃🙃🙃

Genre: Young Adult/New Adult Speculative Fiction & Short Stories

Most Common Theme in Books: Social Justice/Social Commentary

Published: "The Basement" in The Monsters We Forgot, Vol II (2019), "Canary" in What Monsters Do For Love, Vol I (2020), Devil In the Details (2022)

Non-writing: We do cat rescue in our neighborhood and might start posting pictures of the critters that come to us for help from time to time. Depending on the cost of care it might be in the form of a GoFundMe so reblogging is much appreciated!

Current WIPs:

Mercenary of the Stars: a New Adult novel featuring lesbian space pirates breaking up a human trafficking ring made up of Earth migrants and sponsored by society's wealthy elite. (Hoping to traditionally publish)

Firavanna: A Young Adult/New Adult novel about a young Earl from a fallen family trying to solve the murder of the girl he was supposed to marry - if only her ghost was more helpful. (Indie publisher)

Heir of Rot & Ruin: a Young Adult novel following 16-year-olf Charlie Harris and her friends as they work together to get back the children and babies stolen by the mysterious Court of Salt and Brine - and banish them from Belfast, Maine for good if possible. (Self-publish)

Song of the Autumn Court: a New Adult novella about a girl who always thought the fact that her mother was taken by faeries was a tragedy until she discovers the real monsters might be in her village. (Self-publish)

... and a whole bunch of short stories (mixed publishing).

I guess that's about it for me! I spend a lot of time on Tumblr reblogging aesthetic pictures of nature and animals that inspire me and bring me joy and I hope they do the same for you! I'll also share some political/current event commentary (I am a leftist/progressive) and write the occasional blog post. Tumblr is my only social media platform now so I'll also be announcing project updates and book-releases. I will happily help promote other writer's works, too!❤️

NOTE TO FELLOW WRITERS: As you can see I've written a lot and been writing for a long time, so if you're new to writing or want tips or feedback on your latest project, please reach out! I don't know if I'll have time to beta-read a full book but will certainly do what I can to help guide you through the process of finishing it.

Thanks, all! See you online ☺️

P.S.: I've always wanted to do a Write-With-Me Livestream either on YouTube or Twitch where a bunch of writers join me either on stream or in the chat in writing a sort of ad-libbed story together. When I proposed it during my time on Twitter it went down in flames but I thought maybe this community would like to try it. If so, let me know by commenting, reblogging or DMing me! Writing is lonely work and it might help us all feel a little more connected if there was a way we could do it together.

#writing #writeblr #booklr #books #amwriting #young adult fiction #writers of tumblr #writeblr intro #author intro #writing help #writing feedback #writing community

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malewifemammon · 2 years ago

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oh yeah baby kam's peter post made me want to share some of my own thoughts abt him (but also i didn't wanna tack em on in a reblog bc my thoughts r very related to Personal Stuff About Me and i didn't want to make their post my storytime i guess haha)

cw for mentions of sexual harassment/assault under the cut, as well as discussion of germophobia and ocd! also uh maybe some peter hate so if u don't wanna read that don't open the post! and have a nice day ^_^

so like i'm definitely not the type of person to say that nobody should ever like characters who do bad things, or that unhealthy relationships should Never be portrayed in art. so if you like peter or his dynamic with alice, please don't take this as me saying you shouldn't do that.

but like i've been into this series since i was about twelve or maybe even eleven? (long hours largely unsupervised with my best friend at the local library waiting for my mom to finish work) and while i definitely didn't understand healthy relationship dynamics all that much, i still took issue with peter forcing a kiss on alice from the get-go. i'll be honest, that along with his attitude towards her made me hate him right off the bat. these days i definitely think he has interesting and/or comedic potential in some situations, but that particular side of him still freaks me out. obviously. he was my least favorite of alice's potential interests (besides the twins).

BUT something kam brought up in their post kind of clicked with me.

around middle school, i started developing symptoms of ocd (i think triggered by a lot of stressful life events happening in quick and intense succession on top of the usual chaos of middle school). eventually it got on to be actual ocd, which i still deal with to this day. and my biggest trigger has been germs/uncleanliness. i didn't used to have this obsession with contamination, so i'm pretty sure i didn't have it when i first got into nkna. but as time went on i saw more and more of myself in that aspect of peter.

i really didn't want to, since i disliked him so much (not to mention how often ocd or similar traits are either played for jokes in most media or given to eccentric villain types to make them seem more Weird™). but over time it got harder to ignore.

kam brings up that bc of his germophobia, peter doesn't really have much experience in the way of romantic/sexual interactions. and it made me think of myself.

because aside from my tendency to not be able to interact with others all that well, my cleanliness ocd is a big stumbling block in the way of physical intimacy, of ANY kind, but especially romantic/sexual since that tends to be more... involved. and there's the screenshot of peter telling alice smth about how he doesn't mind Her Germs specifically, which is probably something i've said almost word for word to my own partner. they were my first for a lot of things, both because of my anxiety but also because of the germ thing. (side note i love them very much they're so cool and good about My Tendencies lol) and it can be really weird to be in a relationship with someone who has a lot more experience than you sometimes, because it can be easy to worry that you're somehow letting them down (not that i get the sense alice gets out all that much either, but still). but i also know the overwhelming joy and relief that comes with finding someone whose germs you don't mind.

AND IT DRIVES ME CRAZY haha because i still don't really like peter! i think it's funny to bully him but also sometimes he does genuinely anger me. and it's been an odd experience to feel myself become more like him in this very specific way over the years, to relate to some of his fears and such. not to mention, i don't remember his germophobia being played as a joke all that much?

i mean there probably are moments where it is, i wouldn't be surprised, but comparing the way he's treated as opposed to, say, death the kid from soul eater... it feels different. [i could make a whole other post about my feelings on kid but i digress]

he's just a character that i personally have a lot of really complex feelings about, because on the one hand he can be a total scumbag who i hate, but on the other hand he seems to encapsulate certain struggles i've dealt with that i don't see illustrated in media very often. he's really important to me but also i want to kick the shit out of him ^_^

anyway. i don't think i really had A Point to all of this, just wanted to jot down some of my own ideas on him ig

#nkna #.txt #peter #honking #← hope it's ok to take inspo from ur thoughtful honking tag kam if u see this lol #it makes me smile and also i'm a bit of an aspiring clown so it feels thematically appropriate

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gokiburimilku · 3 years ago

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I came back after 4 years to this site, sometimes I miss it, but most of the time I don't...the older I get, the more disenchanted I am with online spaces...

Came back because I got into Rammstein and I found so much good posts on here...a lot of inspiration and a lot of good feelings...

I'm going tru harsh times and their music is giving me strenght and inspiration, and also, they remind me to keep doing my art regardless of what hateful and ignorant people think.

I wanted to share my R+ art here because nobody remembers me, a fresh start of sorts...

I just want to post my art and forget a bit of my shitty life... maybe my art can cheer someone up as it cheers me up to make it....

I won't post my other art here, just rammstein...

Or other bands I like...idk, only time will say....

I've been only a month into rammstein and I've felt a lot... joy, sadness, regret,inspiration,frustration,love... I wish I had known their music before...Now I feel like time is running out...that I came too late to the party... and so many stuff that makes me utterly sad... but I'm trying to compensate by drawing... drawing all the things I'm feeling with any info I get to read...better late than never.

It's been a long time since a group and their music has moved me this much... I feel like when I was 14 fangirling over other groups and making my scratchy drawings on the back of my notebooks...

Rammstein has made me feel that wonder and emotion I felt so many years ago...music sure is powerful.

I won't be talking anymore about me on here, because I don't want to feel disenchanted again, I just want u to know, if you read this, to everyone who reblogs my art and puts such kind comments on them, that I appreciate them a whole lot and I smile knowing that my art is maybe bringing a smile upon you.

Thank you to anyone who reads these words :') <3

(btw, I love TillFlake pairing/friendship so much... ;_; the few stories from interviews and Flake's book I've read of them make my heart swell...

expect a lot of TillFlake art in my blog...)

#thoughts #mucho texto #about the artist #myart #tillflake

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time-to-cause-chaos · 4 years ago

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catch me to infinity

5 times Wanda catches Peter, and 1 time she doesn't know if she can. (Reblogs appreciated <3) (st*rk*r shippers, pls DNI) (also this is PLATONIC, not slash so yeah, pls don’t read this as slash)

AO3 link WC: 5,738

1. Accidentally, off a couch

“Wanda” Peter says, laying across his chair, feet dangling idly in the air.

“Wandaaa”, Peter whines again. His half-finished hot cocoa sits abandoned on the coffee table while Wanda sips hers quietly.

Wanda pauses the tv, raising an eyebrow and looking over to Peter with an unimpressed look.

The guy on the screen is leaning against a wall, mouth half-open, caught in the middle of a joke.

“We’ve watched this episode like a million times. I can probably tell you every single line and scene by heart at this point.”

Wanda sighs, “Which one should we watch then?”

A quick glance at the window says they’re still stuck inside, if the storming winds and downpour mean anything. They didn’t have a problem with some light rain, in fact, if Tony and Steve hadn’t expressly told them they couldn’t go outside, they would already be soaked and muddy. The last day they’d gone outside in the cold though, the next day was full of fevers and snotty napkins so it was decided they’d actually listen this time. That rainy day had still been awesome though and there were absolutely no regrets, even when Peter was delirious and giggling everywhere in a haze.

The sitcom playing in front of them was one of Wanda’s favorites - probably why Peter had put up with watching it for the millionth time - but at this point, she was barely making it through the episode without wanting to rip her hair out.

She was bored.

Peter came around her and sat on the back of the couch, his feet planted on the cushions. Flipping through the shows was a waste, they’d also gone through nearly every episode they could and starting a new show right now sounded exhausting.

Wanda slumped and Peter got up, standing on the sofa, “There are so many things we could do, we’re in the Avengers Compound, there can’t be nothing to do.”

“We could go swimming?” Peter asks.

Wanda groans, “Then you’ll be the one explaining why we got sick again”

“Wanda, it’s indoors”

“N-o” she spells out, “No swimming”

“Well what about-”, Wanda doesn’t figure out what Peter was going to say because his balancing act comes toppling down, maybe balancing on his heels and pacing on the headrest of the couch hadn’t been one of his best ideas.

Peter yelps and his arms come over his head as he crashes to the floor.

...Except the crash never comes.

Instead when Peter opens his eyes, his nose is one inch from touching the floorboards and his limbs are covered in bright red ripples of light.

“Whoa”, he breathes, uncurling himself and spreading his arms out, as if he was floating.

Wanda scoffs and with a flick of her fingers, let’s go of her hold on the mist and helps him close the gap between himself and the floor, dropping him harmlessly on the floor.

He picks himself up and looks at her, mouth agape, “Wands, you have powers!” he shouts in glee.

She rolls her eyes and snorts, “Really, Peter? That is news to me.”

“No, no I mean imagine all the fun things we could do with this”, Peter’s hands flail wildly to emphasize his point, “we could prank the others, for one”

She smirks up at him, “That’s actually not a bad idea”

“When have I ever had a bad idea”

Wanda’s eyebrows pinch together in exasperation, “The swimming idea?”

“Okay, fine moment of weakness but anyways,” he grins, “We need supplies, I’m going to get supplies”

He snaps his fingers and is out the door before he can hear Wanda yell, “If Tony grounds you, it’s not my fault!”

2. Mysteriously, for the suspense and drama

Peter laughed into the comms as he kicked one of the bad guys down, “Was that a dad joke, Mr.Stark?”

“It was a pun, there’s a difference Spidey” Tony grunts, blasting up into the air and firing another guy down a stairwell.

Clint pops on the comm link, crackling into their ears, “I’m pretty sure that was a dad joke Tony”

Peter shoots a web onto the ceiling and swings around, webbing up the last few people in the room, “Mr.Stark, just make sure to give us a warning before you go full dad-mode and start playing golf and bringing us our lunches”

“I actually think I did bring your lunch to your school that one time”, Peter doesn’t have to see Mr.Stark’s face to know he’s smirking.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no I definitely don’t remember that”

“Oh yes you do,” Tony laughs, “Your face was red the entire time”

Peter grimaces,”No idea what you’re talking about”. Oh he definitely did, it had been embarrassing, god and Ned’s jaw was practically on the floor while MJ watched unimpressed as the entire class’s eyes bulged.

“I think I saw some dudes slip up to the roof, I’m going to go grab them” Peter says, changing the subject and looking for Tony for confirmation.

“Go ahead, Underoos. I’ll be right behind, just going to make sure law enforcement have a hold of these guys, first.”

Peter nods and slips out of the room, already running up the fire escape.

He bursts out onto the roof and immediately has a gun trained on him.

“Make one move, Spiderman, I dare you”

“Well, I do love a good dare”

Peter ducks behind a potted plant just as the guy fires a bullet. Spinning out from his hiding place he yells, “I’m going to call you Boots!”

The man was wearing heavy black combat boots with large wedges, a short person’s true love, Peter thinks.

He had thick wedges too on most of his sneakers, but he assured himself Tony he only wore them because they were fun to wear.

Speaking of, he was pretty sure Mr.Stark made his shoes with wedges in them too-

Peter yelps and ducks as the gun fires again, missing him by a foot this time.

Anyways, he was average height, thank you very much. Anyone who said otherwise could eat his webs and dirt.

Peter notices a slight hesitation in his opponent’s movement and immediately shoots a web out, yanking his gun arm down.

He flips behind him and punches him down right before the man flips back up, nailing Peter on his nose and forcing him back.

Peter yelps and realizes their fight is nearing the edge of the roof, which had a good 8-story drop behind it.

He tries to push his punches in another direction, trying to redirect them both before one of them goes over but the man stays strong pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Wanda’s voice comes in through the comms, “Peter, where are you?”

“Roof” Peter barely gets out through his grunts.

“I’m under you” she says.

Ironman comes out through the roof access door and watches as Peter stumbles, barely inches from tipping over the side.

He raises a metal hand, ready to shoot but Peter stops him, “Just trust me”

He would’ve let Tony handle it, but the blast could knock him off too, not just the other guy, and if he was going to plummet off a building today, he wanted to do it on his own terms.

Balancing on the small wall, the only thing keeping him from falling off, Peter jumps sideways just as the man raises a leg to kick him down.

Peter smirks, using two fingers to salute, “Sayonara, sucker” he laughs as he pushes off and starts free-falling backwards, wind and gravity pushing on him.

That was so cool, he thinks. It was a perfect reenactment of those scenes in movies where a character will dramatically fall off a roof narrowly escaping their nemesis and then gets caught by like, a dragon or a flying pirate ship.

It’s called a fashionable exit, to all the uncultured misfortunes who think it’s stupid.

Mr.Stark was probably pretty confused about what just happened though.

He plunges through the air for a full three seconds before he’s caught by Wanda’s magic, floating mid-air.

He catches a glimpse of her pursed lips and smiles, “You’re so dramatic” she tells him, concealing her amused eyes.

Wanda takes them both up to the roof where Mr.Stark already has the man Peter was fighting, tied down.

Tony groans in exasperation when he sees them both, already having figured out their little magic act.

They just laugh.

3. To annoy, off the counter

It’s a Friday and the essay sitting on the table next to Wanda has already been long abandoned. He was not going to waste another minute trying to figure out what personal connection he could make the short story they’d been assigned to read during class.

He related to it because he’d been in a similar situation maybe?

But anyways, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to find a way to spread that over 8 detailed sentences and supporting textual evidence.

He’s sitting on the counter and watching Wanda and Vision read books next to each other on the chairs. Wanda’s legs are resting on Vision’s lap and as fun as it was watching them both, he was still exhausted and not in the mood to face the dangers of his other homework for tonight.

Didn’t Mr.Stark say not to risk his life unnecessarily? This should definitely count because just looking as the textbook took away two hours of his energy, at this rate he’d be on his death-bed by nightfall.

Munching on a protein bar, he looks up at the ceiling.

The only one in the building right now, besides Vision and Wanda, was Steve - well technically Mr.Stark too, but he was in a board meeting that Pepper begged him not to bail on so he was off-limits.

He glares at Wanda, trying to get her to notice him bored out of his mind, but she stubbornly stays focused on the page.

She’s actually reading Harry Potter, the result of Peter’s pestering, and she loved it. The plan to get Wanda to do something with him was interfering with the joy he would usually feel though.

Like yay, my pseudo big sister is finally catching up on all the books and movies she’s missed while working with evil people but also please please please notice me before i throw my stupid homework into the sink disposal-

His alarming train of thought still didn’t catch her attention so he slumps before getting up and deciding to walk all over the counters and ceiling. You know if that mark on the wall from when someone - ahem Clint ahem - had thrown a pen on the ceiling, acted like a mark he could pretend he was doing an obstacle course.

Yes, he could see it now, he’d do a cartwheel over the pen mark on the ceiling, then run on the wall, then he’d jump over the couch, and jump back onto the counter, the living room was plenty big enough.

Wow, this is a sorry excuse for fun.

He did the course three times and was skittering across the ceiling when Steve walked in and immediately shook his head at him.

Peter freezes in surprise and looks guiltily at Steve.

“I’m guessing the homework didn’t get done”, Steve says.

Peter sits criss-cross on the ceiling, if he gets down, he’s probably going to be guilt-tripped into doing his homework and no thank you.

Steve sighs and looks at him, “At least get down, you’re going to fall and get hurt.”

“No I won’t. I’m part-spider, this is like my natural territory”, Peter says.

“You have the traits of a spider”

Why did he always have to pull out the school detention PSA voice?

“But look! I can do a cartwheel on here, I’ve been doing them and I’m fine”

He’ll get down, as soon as he does just one, little cartwheel to annoy Steve.

Of course, that’s when his body decides to betray him and he slips, losing his grip on the ceiling.

He wasn’t worried about falling and smashing his nose at all, he knew Wanda would catch him every single time, in fact he’s already crossing his arms over his chest and scowling as he hovers on his back 3 feet above the ground.

Steve walks by him, still suspended in the air, and ruffles his hair, “Homework now”, then probably feeling bad for Peter, he adds, “Tony said you can use the lab later if you finish early”

Peter groans, “Fine”

Wanda puts him on the couch and he walks over to her and drops in the chair next to her on the table. She hasn’t looked up once this entire time, not even when she’d caught him in the air, only unlatching her fingers from Vision’s and stopping his fall with her powers.

Now she looks up and smiles at him, poking his forehead and pushing his computer towards him.

He groans again.

4. To spite and win, off the balcony

Peter licks his lips, running through the plan again.

There’s someone coming down this hall, he can hear their soft footsteps padding on the floor. Peter’s going to jump out and get the offending person out of the game, it’ll be easy as long as he times it right.

He jumps out from where he’s hiding behind the door frame and pulls up the gun aiming it at the unsuspecting form.

His paintball gun chooses right then to stall and dang it, that means that he has no defense or attack.

He looks up to find Clint grinning at him coyly, gun already trained on him and finger poised on the trigger.

He yelps and jumps out of the way just in time, the purple paintball splattering against the counter.

Peter runs back through the hallway, getting away from Clint and his treacherous smile (it was the smile of a deranged man who would do anything it takes to win paintball) and finds a cleaning closet to hide in while he fixes his gun.

Did the plastic pieces just have to jam right then? Talk about shitty luck.

He picks at the inside of the barrel with a toothpick and grins as a faint click ensures that the machine is functioning again. The paintball that had gotten stuck shoots out and Peter ducks out of the way as pink splatters against the dark wall.

He knows Clint’s prowling the halls for him right now and he prays the man didn’t just hear the shotgun go off.

Slowly creaking the door open and making sure there’s no one there, he tip-toes out and runs to the balcony, it’s the perfect place to hide out and wait for his next victim. The second anyone enters the living room, he has the perfect view on them and nobody looks at the balcony until it’s too late, which means more wins for him.

He underestimated Clint though.

The older man jumps out (umm where did he come from??) and kicks Peter’s gun away from him with a triumphant laugh. Peter backs up against the cool metal railing and looks at him imploringly, “Can we talk this out?” he offers weakly.

He really regretted voting for the no superpowers rule now.

“Any last words, Parker”

Peter turns his head around, looking for a way out. It was too high to jump from without his webs and it won’t be possible to run around Clint without getting hit by a paintball.

Right before he decides to accept his inevitable defeat he sees a flash of bright red hair hiding in the branches of one of the thick, green trees below them.

“You know what, you got me Clint” he smirks, letting Clint bask in his moment of victory for a second, “Just kidding” and he flips himself back off over the railing.

He really wishes he could’ve seen Clint’s face at that moment, sadly success came with a price.

Right on schedule, the sharp red crackles of electricity catch him a couple of feet from the ground and he plants his feet on the ground, turning around to face Wanda.

“Thanks Wands”

“Oh I didn’t do it for you”

It takes him a second too long to figure out what she means but by the time he does it’s already too late, a dark red paintball slams into his protective vest.

“You’re a traitor, Wanda” Peter sulked, wow and here he thought he could actually win - or at least come second to Nat.

“All is fair in love and paintball”

5. Unwillingly, off a stage

Wanda had decided to pick Peter up from his Decathlon practice, it was always Happy who did it but he was sick and plus, they could grab some ice cream and talk before they had to head back.

She tapped her fingers idly on the steering wheel, rapping out a misplaced tune and glances again at the school gates.

She fixes the rearview mirror and frowns, Peter should have come skipping out 15 minutes ago.

Wanda steps out of the car and smooths her wrinkled hoodie, running her fingers through hair once in the window before walking towards the school.

Her sneakers squeak, echoing loudly through the empty hallways and she has to wrinkle her nose at the spitballs stuck to the walls and lockers. Someone’s book report flits around in the air and suddenly, she’s incredibly grateful she never had to go to a real high school.

There’s a piece of paper with a handwritten “Academic Decathlon” scribbled on it taped loosely on heavy, wooden doors and she pushes them open, shivering at the rush of cold air that bursts out.

Peering in, Wanda sees Peter on the stage but he’s not alone. There’s another high-schooler gripping hard at his shoulders and sneering at him, speaking words Wanda’s not close enough to hear. It doesn’t take any amount of genius to know the two boys weren’t friends/

She doesn’t even have time to intervene because Peter’s pushed off the stage, it’s barely a 2 foot fall but Wanda doesn’t care, she’s angry.

Peter looks at her in surprise with dark red cheeks once she puts him, gently, on the floor. He practically curls in on himself and she honestly wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was a similar shade as his, just not for the same reason.

She stomps up to the other boy who’s looking at her in alarm and pokes a harsh finger at his chest, “You. bastard.” she accentuates each word by pushing her finger even harder against his t-shirt, “What’s wrong with you?!”

She may not have gone to high school but she definitely knows what a bully is. She’s had plenty of her own in the past, even if she hadn’t realized it at first.

It wasn’t fair Peter had to go through the same thing, school wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was where you were supposed to goof off with your friends and learn, not get pushed around by kids because they think they’re better than you.

A hand tugs at her wrist and she’s so wound up nearly forgets to soften her face when Peter tugs again, silently asking her to just drop it.

She looks back at the bully who’s gone pale and pushes him, sending him stumbling back a few feet.

“Don’t touch my little brother again, asshole” she snarls before whipping around and dragging Peter out the doors by his backpack.

By the time they get to the car, Peter still hasn’t said a word and instead opts to look out the window, not even sparing Wanda a small glance.

Her face is still aflame and her hands are still clenched around the wheel as she pulls to the side of the road and parks, looking over at Peter. His eyes are tinged red.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, the second they’re parked.

“Don’t say sorry, it wasn’t your fault, but why didn’t you fight back? Just one shove”. It doesn’t make sense, Peter is strong enough to take on super-soldiers, he practically is one himself with all his advancements, so why doesn’t he just push back? He doesn’t have to get hurt like this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“I’m just Peter Parker. I’m not Spiderman at school so it wouldn’t make sense, I can’t just do that”, his fingers dig into his thighs and he kicks lightly at his backpack.

“Then you could’ve said something to us,” she’s looking up at him, eyes almost crazed. It’s not okay, it’s not even close alright, it’s awful that this happens to him.

And she knows it’s not just a one-time thing.

Not when bullying at Midtown has been discussed far too many times for comfort, not when he’s come back with bruises and marks even when he hasn’t patrolled in days, and definitely not when Peter just tried to subtly wipe a tear from his cheek.

She feels tired all of a sudden, as her raging wave of anger reaches a crescendo and plummets to the ground, scattering, dropping her intentions to take care of anyone who even comes close to hurting Peter with some well-placed punches and kicks.

Wanda sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, blindly, she grabs Peter’s hand and asks, “Was that the Flash guy?”

“No, Flash never gets physical, he’s not too bad. This is someone else”

“So you’ve been getting bullied by multiple people?”, it’s not a question, she already knows. “Peter, you’re Spiderman, you know this isn’t right so please, please the next time this happens just” she exhales, “Just please, promise you’ll tell someone, anyone and they’ll take care of it”

“Promise” Peter breathes from next to her.

“Okay” she pulls back into the traffic, “I’m getting cookie dough ice cream, which one do you want?”

+1. This one was definitely not supposed to happen, shit, shitshit

It’s getting really hard to breathe.

Which should probably not be happening, but in Peter’s defense, he hadn’t even wanted to skip class. MJ had told him to, quote, “Get out of here before your dumbass throws up on someone’s shoes” and for once he’d actually listened, deciding going home and sleeping his fever off was better than being stuck in a stuffy old classroom, doing schoolwork.

The heater of the apartment sounded like heaven and sunshine right about then.

He was just going to take the subway when one of the tv’s turned on, flashing a news report about the Avengers fighting the group of people near the tower.

According to the news channel, they had a whole lot of advanced technology, from ray guns to shapeless contraptions you couldn’t tell heads or tails of.

And there were a lot of them.

So of course, Peter had immediately donned his warm hoodie and jeans and switched into his suit, already swinging towards to get there, it made his stomach queasy and his head spin, but it was fine, he was already almost there.

“Peter, you’re not doing this right now, stop it and go home”, Tony’s voice is playing through Karen the second he’s in range.

“Technically, I’m supposed to be in school right now, Mr.Stark”, Peter swings onto a roof and crashes against someone, knocking them down before looking at the metal cube object they had abandoned.

It was glowing a light purple, which should probably not be happening.

He walked cautiously around it and his eyes widened as the glow got brighter and spread more, covering the entire cube now.

“Shit!”

Peter manages to scramble back before it explodes, leaving a black scorch mark on the floor and the smell of smoke in the air.

“Peter!?”

Oops, he’d forgotten Mr.Stark was there.

“Yeah I’m fine, just where did these people get all this stuff?”

“No idea, but Pete, I swear to god get out of here, or else I’m calling your aunt”, there’s a strangled grunt and the comms go silent.

“Mr.Stark??”, there’s no answer, “Karen, take me to Mr.Stark”

He swings two buildings away and lands on the 9th floor balcony, entering and running towards the signal. When he enters the room, Tony’s being held up against the wall by someone who’s wearing heavy metal body armor, it could pass for an Iron Man cosplay if you squint really hard.

He jumps over, kicking them down and ducking a punch. Grabbing the wrist of the armor, Peter twists their arm and slams them on their back before immediately looking back at Tony and helping him up.

“You okay?”, Peter questions.

“Yup, something she used fried the comm link though, I can’t get to to anyone else”

Peter nods and they both run through the halls, racing to get to the top of the building.

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, but right now I think they’re just trying to blow stuff up”

Bursting onto the roof, there’s only one person there with some weird silver spear, which honestly looks pretty harmless compared to everything else.

The man there, sees them and immediately backs off, dropping everything and stumbling away with a forced smile.

Tony still closes in on him and Peter webs his wrists and legs to the floor, just in case.

They’re both looking down onto the other rooftops for trouble when the headache Peter has been ignoring grows, and he stumbles back feeling his fever spike.

Tony approaches him and kneels down next to him where he’s sprawled on the floor waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

“Kid, you have a fever”, Tony says after asking Karen for his vitals.

Peter swallows and fights the urge to keel over and vomit, “I’m fine”

“If I had a penny for every time I heard that” he jokes, voice unbearably soft, “Listen, you stay here and I’ll come and get you when this is over, ‘kay?”

Peter’s about to nod when someone flies onto the roof, they’re wearing goggles and using mechanical wings to help them fly.

Peter’s too dizzy to do anything so he watches as Tony raises a gauntlet and fires it up with a low whine that resonates in Peter’s keyed-up ears.

“Back off”, Tony says as a warning.

The girl smiles and takes off the goggles, slipping them up on her head with a puckish smirk, folding her wings in.

“Pleasure to meet you Iron Man, as well as you Spider”, she has a lilting accent that Peter can’t place.

The gauntlet doesn’t falter, even as Tony shifts so Peter is stuck in his shadow, “What do you want?”

“I want one of your inventions. I may not be in charge of all these idiots, but my best friend is our leader and if you get me what I want, this can all be called off.”

“Best I can do are scraps from the intern labs, sorry.” he says, before firing a repulsor as she ducks out of the way.

“I wasn’t going to this the hard way but I suppose I’ll have to”, her curly, brown hair whips in her face as she puts it up into a ponytail, still dodging Tony’s blasts.

Peter’s spidey sense flares just as her wings do and she’s coming at him at full speed, lifting him up and flying up, past the buildings. Oh he really has to hurl now.

Tony swears and tries to blast up, only to realize the girl had stuck a small square chip on him and his suit’s shutting down, his breathing clips and he looks up to where Peter’s being flown up.

He gets out of the suit and runs to the edge of the roof, “Wilson!” he calls, signaling Sam over from where he’s hauling debris out of the street for a car to get through.

Sam flies up to him and without a word, grabs him and flies him over to where Clint, Natasha, and Wanda are a few buildings away. The whole 30 seconds he hasn’t taken his eyes off the Peter-shaped speck in the sky that’s getting harder and harder to see.

He stumbles over to Clint who’s looking at Wanda in concern, arms braced behind her to catch her if she falls.

Tony briefly wonders what’s going on, before looking up at the collapsing building in front of them, the scarlet circling her wrists, and the sheen of sweat covering her forehead.

Clint looks over to him, swallowing, “Steve’s in there trying to get the rest of the people out, we can’t get in though, it’s too unstable. The second Wanda lets go, the entire place is coming crashing down”

Tony can’t hide his panic anymore and he points up the sky, “Clint, it’s Peter”

Clint follows his finger and he jerks, seeing the red and blue suit in the distance, “Oh god”

The comms finally crackle back online and Tony swears his heart skips a beat when he realizes the bird lady just dropped Peter, oh my god.

They’re well over 4,000 feet up and his heart is in his throat as Peter’s screaming floods through the comms.

Wanda hears it too and her hold on the building falters as she falls to her knees, eyes squeezed shut. Clint moves to hold her but hovers around her instead, glancing back up at Peter when Wanda has a semi-stable grip again.

Natasha kneels on the ground next to Wanda, “You’re going to have to catch him”

Wanda’s voice teeters on a cry, “I’m trying”

Tony holds back his own cry and desperately tries to speak into the comms, if Peter realizes Tony’s trying to get through to him he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The comms are filled with wheezing and rushing wind and Tony’s gripping his arm so tight because that’s his kid dammit, and he can’t do anything.

Wanda’s attempts at catching him are proving futile, she can’t handle anything else without dropping the building which she can’t do, not when Steve and a whole lot of people are depending on her not to let it go.

“Sam, can’t you take your wings up and get him?”. He doesn't care how panicked his voice sounds right now.

“One of the guys stuck a chip on it, the thing’s dead-weight now” Sam says, voice filled with sorrow.

Tony gulps in a breath and falls on his knees next to Wanda, “You have to catch him, Wanda” there’s a grim undertone in his voice hiding the waver and pure terror flooding through his veins.

Wanda grunts, tears are shining in her eyes, if it’s because of the strain or Peter, he has no idea.

“GUYS! Guys, guys, I’m falling!” Peter screams into their earpieces, voice cutting out, hot tears squeeze at his eyes.

Wanda looks up with a new sense of determination and her eyes flash, Tony suddenly knows that anyone going toe-to-toe with her would probably run first chance instead of fight.

“You can do it Wanda, come on” Tony pleads.

Peter’s form is getting bigger every second, little by little.

At around 500 feet, a faint glimmer of red runs over his body but it’s not enough, it slows Peter’s fall the tiniest bit before he’s hurtling through the air again.

‘Tony, Tony, Tony” Peter says his name like a prayer in the comms and Tony clenches his fist again, switching between looking at Wanda and Peter so fast, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with whiplash.

The strain on Wanda’s forehead grows and her eyes squeeze shut as she tears at her limits.

Tony stands beside where she’s kneeled on the ground, trying to see if he’d be able to catch Peter if this didn’t work. He really hoped it didn’t come to that though, he didn’t have his suit and with the speed Peter was falling at, he didn’t know what would happen.

Eyes focused on Peter, Tony realizes a thin, flickering layer of red is very slowly growing over his body. Relief bubbles in his throat and Wanda is able to slow Peter enough so that he and Sam can grab onto him, they all fall to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Tony grabs Peter under his shoulders and holds him upright as he gags and chokes on nothing, taking off his mask and brushing his curls off of his sweaty face.

Tony’s ears ring with the lingering screams of Wanda and Peter, his throat feels raw and he realizes that in his panic, he had been screaming too. And it wasn’t just his ears that were buzzing, it seemed like everything was still ringing, the air vibrating with panic.

Peter was held close to Tony’s chest as he shook with heaving gasps and suppressed sobs, dried tear tracks streak the sides of his face and Tony tries to comb his fingers through the knots in Peter’s hair.

Looking around, Tony took everything in, everyone’s faces were pale and Wanda was barely holding herself up on her elbows, her heavy pants were forced through clenched teeth.

She’d let go of her hold on the building as Steve had come running out, waiting till he was out of the damage zone before sending it all crashing down. All of that had happened just seconds after she had managed to gradually slow Peter down and get him to the ground in one piece.

A sigh of exhaustion huffs through Tony’s nose and the team sits in silence for a few minutes, trying to process all the chaos that had just happened.

Clint was helping Wanda, shakily, sit up and Peter crawled out of Tony’s arms to her before wrapping his trembling arms around her shoulders and whispering something to her.

Tony doesn’t know what was said but Peter was safe, everyone was safe. They were all alright and his breaths started to come easier.

Natasha sat next to him giving him a small, reassuring smile. He leaned back and shut his eyes, making a mental note to add a parachute to Peter’s suit, among many other things. Also to thank Wanda, because if she hadn’t been here...Tony didn’t want to think about it.

That was done now though. Tony’s chest feels much lighter when Peter smiles at him over Wanda’s shoulder, the type of smile that conveys a million emotions, with nothing else.

He gives a shaky grin back.

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lovecolibri · 3 years ago

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SaL anon here and since I put you through some rough feels yesterday let's lighten the mood today with, well, Light. I can't explain exactly pinpoint all the reasons why but this is such a beautiful song to listen to, it has so much joy and ebergy and hope in it. Most of the lyrics are repeated but it works so well to drive the love in them home. Add this to our long list of Malex songs we want to come true in S3, especially the most repeated line "I promise I'll do better" (true of RNM too 😒)

Ooooh, someone saw my 911 reblog with this song! 😉 So, no surprise here, I LOVE this song, and as the title suggests, it’s so bright and light like sunshine, but the lyrics are sooo good and so important. Joy, energy, and hope are absolutely embodied in this song and it’s a delight to listen to musically and soul-renewing lyrically. Definitely on the (very long) list of Malex songs that I want to see the energy for in season 3!

So it’s pretty clear this song is a parent singing to a child (per Ryan’s blog, it’s the child from Uneven Odds who has grown up and is now a parent for the first time. 😭😭😭 Uneven Odds is also the last song on the Darkness EP and this is the first song on the Light EP so they are bookend songs!) but it’s still such a good song about the lengths we will go to for the people we love to make sure they feel safe, and loved, and happy existing in the world and so it’s pretty perfect for Malex! (Please don’t make me think about an Uneven Odds/Light parallel with Malex having kids and making sure they are surrounded by light and love. I can’t. I’m too fragile. 😭😭😭)

may these words be the first to find your ears.

the world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here.

though your eyes will need some time to adjust to the overwhelming light surrounding us,

I just love the imagery here and it makes me think of Teen Malex and how everything changed for them (”I know those moments”) when they came into each other’s lives. Plus literally any mention of space, a planet, or any other celestial thing will make me think of Michael and I can just imagen Alex in his black clothes, and black hair, and the black cloud of his father hanging over him, crashing into Michael and his bright, sunshine energy, with a smile and softness that chases the clouds away a little. (Also thinking about how light illuminates secrets and brings truths to light but that’s not what we’re talking about today. It’s happy vibes today, dammit!)

i’ll give you everything i have. i’ll teach you everything i know. i promise i’ll do better.

i will always hold you close, but i will learn to let you go. i promise i’ll do better.

i will soften every edge, i’ll hold the world to its best, and i’ll do better.

with every heartbeat i have left i will defend your every breath, and i’ll do better.

I loooove this bit and it hits me in all my Malex feels. The promises to better are of course, exactly what I am manifesting for season 3, but each of the bits before those lines is so good! Giving and teaching, holding close but not restricting, softening the cruelty of the world and demanding the best, using every last heartbeat to defend until the end. Just...the devotion, and love just blows me away.

’cause you are loved. you are loved more than you know.

i hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so.

though your heart is far too young to realize the unimaginable light you hold inside,

😭😭😭 Both Michael and Alex need to know they are loved and I need season 3 to give us that! I love the idea of them pledging to always remind each other in words and actions how much they are loved because I think with all their traumas they will need those reminders. I also like the idea of them bringing out that light inside of each other that they have so often had to hide or dim or smother.

i’ll give you everything i have. i’ll teach you everything i know. i promise i’ll do better.

i will always hold you close, but i will learn to let you go. i promise i’ll do better.

i will rearrange the stars, pull ‘em down to where you are. i promise, i’ll do better.

with every heartbeat i have left, i’ll defend your every breath. i promise i’ll do better.

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best. i promise i’ll do better.

with every heartbeat i have left, i’ll defend your every breath, (i’ll do better.)

I love the added bit in here about rearranging the stars and pulling them closer because, of course, alien Michael feels, but also the swell of the music and vocals there gives me chills every time. I want to see both Alex and Michael ready to do better, because better wasn’t really an option for them before. Alex couldn’t stay during the Lost Decade, he was active duty military, and his dad is an abusive, murderous asshole (you will never convince me Jesse didn’t threaten to kill Michael after that shed incident to keep Alex in line), and Michael couldn’t leave, he was watching over and protecting his sister. They were both just kids trying to the the best they could at the time, but now they have more options, they know truths about each other now they didn’t then. They are ready to do and be better for each other and I can’t wait to see it happen. (Come on, Chris, don’t let us down!)

youtube

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #roswell nm #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #sleeping at last #light #another impeccable choice nonnie!

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bending-sickle · 4 years ago

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this or that / last and current

tagged by @pepperf <3

apple juice or orange juice although i haven’t had apple juice in years so if you threw it at me (not like that) i’d be delighted, tbh | breakfast in bed or dinner in a blanket fort but only because the concept of breakfast in bed brings up the idea of someone loving me enough to do that which :> (i mean sure i could make my own then hop back into bed but that defeats the purpose) | peanut butter or butterscotch but like, i barely remember what either of these taste like so... | rain or snow however! i have not seen snow in over a decade now and i would very much like to | water park or amusement park although i haven’t been to either in over two decades and tbh would just like the chance to go with someone anywhere | guitar or violin but secretly pianos | flip flops or sneakers but really barefoot | big cats or bears | ocean or lake | bonfire or picnic fun fact you can do both! | draw or write | oak or mahogany but i mean olive’s right there | volleyball or tennis but only because volleyball gives me highschool gym war flashbacks. that said, give me badminton or give me death. | key chains or postcards i collect them! i send them! i sometimes receive them! | queso or salsa i refuse to answer this question on the grounds that this means “cheese or sauce” to me and no anglophone is taking precedence over what spanish words means to me. that said, ¡dáme crema, por diós! | skateboard or roller blades | porch or patio | love quotes or inspirational quotes | hearts or stars but really interlocking squares | backpack or duffle bag gimme that sweet sweet back support and not having to rummage into the depths for my stuff | orchard or garden but it better be part vegetable and herb garden or so help me | baby bunnies or baby ducks all babehs are good babehs | pastels or earth tones | New York City or Los Angeles but only because i’ve never been to LA and also ah, yes, american-centric questions, fabulous | secret stairs or secret tunnel neither we are not dying in stupid ways | street magician or escape artist because escape artists make me too anxious like dude! you gon’ die! | fairies or gnomes what i’ve heard of fairies makes them out to be vicious | comedy or mystery i am tired of choosing | purple or green but only, like, to wear. if it’s a thing to have around me then green. | daisies or dandelions | crayon or chalk | sunglasses tinted blue or sunglasses tinted yellow | bracelets or rings but i can rarely stand to wear either | question mark or exclamation point

...honestly, both/neither is more my jam for these sorts of things. also, sorry for the rambling.

also also, sorry for the formatting. i did this in notes, because tumblr doesn’t know how to copy/paste multiple paragraphs, and then transferring it back...broke something? idek bro i’m tired of hitting bold/italics so many times. eta: the formatting is a lie?

last song: that “don’t rear the reaper” in the style of ghost i reblogged a while ago

last movie: gremlins (1984) because childhood

currently watching: bob’s burgers, which is my light and joy, grey’s anatomy, which is my weekly “oh hai familiar faces”, and then the falcon and the soldier, which i’m barely watching (like, literally. i get so bored my eyes wander off), and strangers from hell, which i am also barely watching, which is difficult since i need subtitles but dear god, i’m bored. mainly though i’m watching youtube which is either a) historical costuming, b) chinese ladies making food in rural settings, or c) people reading memes, with d) the occasional murder story or media commentary

currently reading: honestly? nothing, officially? ahaaa...so many. my latest efforts were focused on the house of leaves reread but... i’ve got a clash of kings reread, and that the body keeps the score one, and i have burning the sound reread barely cracked into, and then the frailty fanfic i started from the top because i’d forgotten everything by the time the author finished it... i hsed to be such an avid reader, you guys, i swear.

currently playing: if by playing we mean hobbies (and i’m putting that square peg firmly into that round hole) then learning chinese, learning korean, making stuffing for a pillow, and making miniature books (this last is...on hold). also gardening, grow, my pretties! grow! ...wait, why are you dying, why are you dying?!

currently craving: like, so much food. i am so hungry. (that said, if i see one more ramyeon scene in a kdrama i will scream because give. me. it.) also, like, a hug would be nice. a cuddle would be glorious.

tagging @seschat, @nuingiliath, @beenworkingonacocktail, and @its-sorcery. good luck cleaning the list of my ramblings. (sorry.)

#ask box adventures #well this sucked up more time than expected #reasons why pepperf is awesome #things you might have noticed about me

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alottanothing · 4 years ago

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Left to Ruin: Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Ahkmemrah prepares for his marriage to Nouke. A week after sending his brother to the cells, the pharaoh’s guilt sees him visiting Kah in search of salvation.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 2715

Warnings: just some good ole angst

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: This is one of the shortest chapters of this whole story, maybe the shortest. However, I feel like there’s still a great deal of importance to the scenes, especially the ones between Kah and Ahk. Also, thanks for all the love last chapter! The comments, and tags and like and reblogs are like candy to me! 🍬 ☺️Again, as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible.

Over the course of several days, the pharaoh's daily routine was exceedingly more arduous than the one he was accustomed to. Those long hours were a blur of official greetings and ostentatious dinners meant to welcome the important dignitaries who had traveled from afar to partake in the union of their king and soon to be queen. Merenkahre insisted on a week to properly allow all the guest to make their journeys and get settled; then on the seventh day, all of Waset would honor their new queen.

Truthfully, when his father asked for a week's time to prepare for a grand festival, Ahkmenrah agreed readily, entirely too wrapped up in the notion of marrying Nouke to realize how long seven days would actually be. Those days moved so sluggishly. A week was absolutely too long to be away from her, but duty often eclipsed what his heart desired.

However, duty also lent him distraction from his yearning heart. Families began arriving two days after the pharaoh proclaimed his desire to wed the servant girl Anuksumn. Boats lined the shores of the Nile, crowding the market harbor as families—along with their entourage—made their way to the palace with enough fan fair to rival that of the pharaohs.’ Despite their raw pomposity, Ahkmenrah showered them each with unyielding kindness as he welcomed them to stay in his home—as was expected of a king.

The ruse of playing host grew old after only one evening of official dinners and introductions; proving to be all work and no play. The stories his guests told during their feasts lacked zeal. Mostly, everyone spoke of their own accomplishments and their supposed generosity to the cities they governed. A few guests were genuine—able to steer topics away from themselves. Apart from those cherished few, every man, woman and even child invited to celebrate the impending nuptials held themselves above all others. And while no one dared to speak outwardly with such hubris, Ahk could read each of them as clearly as the hieroglyphs scribed onto the walls.

Somehow, he mustered a smile and played his role perfectly all the while wishing to be miles from the noise of the palace, tangled together with Nouke under the stars.

After the second evening of myriad stories of uninspiring nature during dinner, Ahkmenrah snuck beyond the walls of his royal sanctuary and returned to Nouke’s farm with news he’d promised to bring.

“It is all very official and exhausting,” Ahk tutted with a mild scowl. Just thinking about what awaited him at the palace bled into the serenity of laying with Nouke in his arms, nestled among the cushions, their garments left in a forgotten heap nearby.

“Trust that I cannot wait to bring you home once and for all. However, I am also not ready to share you yet.” He smoothed the hair away from her face as she looked at him from where she laid on his chest. “I want to enjoy having you all to myself a while longer.”

Nouke smirked and kissed him softly.

“Mmm, I’ve never thought of you as a greedy man…” she teased as she traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips.

Ahk grinned and kissed the pad of each rough digit before speaking, “You will find that I am exceptionally greedy when it comes to you. I want you to be only mine, now and forever.”

“Now and forever,” she agreed with a breathy murmur.

Her eyes stayed fixated on his until she drew him into an affirming kiss that built lazily in a slow, sensuous expression of worship before passion swept them away for a second time.

What she gave, he took—her name a low hum tumbling from his lips. What he gave, she took—holding him close enough for their hearts to beat in perfect synchronization. They made love in a symphony of wanton expressions whispered into the night air with breathless praise until they reached that glorious peak together. And when morning came with the harsh break of day—golden light pulling them from the depths of their slumber—it was too soon.

He left his bride to be with a kiss and the promise it would only be a few more days until they could spend their lives together.

It was that night he’d spent tangled with the woman he loved—his best friend—that Ahkmenrah held in his mind the days that followed. He clung to images of Nouke like a valuable life source; granting him the energy to masquerade through every dinner and introduction that remained.

***

“I have made the arrangements for you to collect your bride tomorrow at mid-day,” Merenkahre said from his usual seat at the council table.

Ahkmenrah blinked out of his thoughts, suppressing a yawn, doing his best to fend off his exhaustion a while longer, and grinned.

“After which,” his father continued. “You and your desired bride will be wedded with an audience of your advisors and guests of your choosing. Festivities will then commence before twilight.”

The pharaoh's sudden influx of enthusiasm was difficult to keep from his features when he nodded, not wanting his excitement to mar his kingly composure.

“Perfect,” he said.

Idly, his eyes skirted around the table, mentally noting which of his advisors he wanted in attendance until his sweeping glance stopped on the empty chair reserved for the Consul of Montu. A pang of guilt bit into Ahkmenrah with enough potency to taint both his enthusiasm and his resolve the longer he stared at the barren spot.

The presence of the vacant seat was suddenly crushing with guilt, and a frown fought to twist onto his features. Almost a week had passed since banishing Kahmunrah to the cells with only his name and no titles. And not one of those days went by without Ahkmenrah brooding over the punishment he’d bestowed upon his brother.

Even with ample distractions at hand, his mind could not surrender how they parted. The scene in his memory stirred a sense of betrayal—his betrayal to Kahmunrah. Ahkmenrah never wanted to be a ruler who dealt with his problems by burying them in a cell to be forgotten. Or worse yet, a king who executed and silenced his problems. How Kah would have preferred I run things.

The council meeting finished quickly when the pharaoh could find no other topics to discuss suddenly too laden with grief to proceed effectively. With the men gone, the walls of the council chamber became a meditative space for him to ponder.

The day that would follow was to be one of the happiest of his life, and yet, Ahk felt that joy abruptly strangled; his guilt and the anger he held on to, like beasts he needed to slay.

The fury in his soul for what had been done to Nouke and Setshepsut remained deep and unsated, tormenting Ahkmenrah with unease. Wrath could devour a good man if it was left to fester. Already the infection was spreading. Ahk’s torrid heart wanted Kahmunrah to know punishment for the things he’d done, and still, the pharaoh’s mind screamed and begged for him to let the past be covered in sand—forgotten.

With right and wrong poised so precariously in his head; he wasn’t sure which side of the scale to leap onto.

Minutes passed, the oversaturated colors of sunset vanquished by the black of night when Ahkmenrah finally relinquished a slow, weighted breath. He rubbed his temples hoping the added pressure would deter the ache beginning to swell in his skull as his frenzying thoughts became too much to fathom.

Letting go of his anger and forgiving his brother was the only way to ensure growth could come from all that transpired. Holding onto resentment would only permit stagnation. Ahkmenrah had no choice but to face his brother.

***

Of all the buildings located on the palace grounds, the cellblock was not constructed with intricate detail or grandeur of any kind. The stone structure was far from the central palace, a narrow edifice with almost no windows and lit mostly by mounted torches along the length of the corridor. It had been years since the pharaoh found himself in the dismal confines of the cellblock. He’d visited last with his father during one of his lessons, and Ahkmenrah liked those walls even less now than he did then.

The sting of guilt surfaced again as he took in the bleak accommodation once more. How could I have condemned my brother to live in such squaller?

The man on guard, stationed just outside the doorway, greeted the pharaoh with a shocked expression and hasty bow.

“My king!” The man did his best to chase away his shock, but his confusion was still obvious in the glow of the torch he held. “What business brings his majesty here?”

“My brother,” Ahk stated cooly. “I wish to speak to him.”

The man nodded and directed him to which of the long line of cells housed his brother.

Ahkmenrah counted his steps as he went, focusing on the numbers to distract himself from the dismal interior and the shame it all provoked. In the darkness, his brother was only a silhouette, perched on the back half-wall of his cell, and Ahk could feel the tendrils of Kah’s bitterness reaching vengefully through the bars.

“And so, the mighty pharaoh descends from on high to look upon the lowly and condemned.” Kahmunrah’s voice was cold, dripping with resentment. “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Surely my sentencing is not through already.”

The urge to recant a snide comment—to fight fire with fire—swelled on the tip of Ahkmenrah’s tongue, but he swallowed it. He refused to let any word passed his lips without having thoroughly thought it over first.

“Or have you come to gloat?” Kah gibed when Ahk struggled to piece a rational sentence together. “I overheard the guards talking about your impending nuptials to that servant girl I exiled. Congratulations."

A frown worked onto the pharaoh’s face taking note of the unabashed hate in his brother’s tone—a knife in his belly.

“It pains me you think I would come and rub my good fortune in your face. Have you ever known me to be so arrogant?”

Kahmunrah stood and moved into the singular beam of torchlight flickering through the bars of his cell. Without his usual golden raiment and accessories, Ahkmenrah had difficulty recognizing the man before him. His threadbare garments were a stark contrast to gold and gems, and they caused another wave of guilt to beat against Ahk.

“No,” Kahmunrah finally responded, looking as though the truth was akin to poison on his tongue. “You are the golden son—kind and humble.”

Kah spat at his brother’s feet, “Weak. You are weak for a king.”

Ahkmenrah closed his eyes and let out a long meditative exhale to carry away the influx of anger. Venom soaked words would only kindle the flame of hate. Not acting on impulse was an arduous task, but Ahk had come to purge the contempt out of his system as calmly as he could.

“If you are attempting to provoke me, brother; I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Kah’s lips curled into a sneer, “Just as I said, weak.”

Ahk shook his head with disbelief, “Is it not tiring to hold onto all of that anger?”

The pharaoh’s own wrath was exhausting to carry day to day. How Kahmunrah managed to live all of his life in a perpetual state of ire was a feat to be admired, or respected at least.

“My anger is all I have thanks to you.”

Something cold and abject worked through Ahk with a chill. The truth of his brother’s words biting into him with such force, Ahkmenrah’s sure footing faltered and he leaned against the stone wall behind him for aid.

“Yes,” the pharaoh husked out. Even his whisper echoed eerily in the long corridor to haunt him.

It took him a minute or two to find his strength again, incrementally able to hold himself with the sturdy wall to brace against. Ahk’s focus was on his brother, looming threateningly just past the bars of his cage. Ahkmenrah found he could not look into his eyes—his guilt beginning to swallow him completely.

“I did not want this for you, my brother. Do you not know that? I gain no pleasure from seeing you like this. In fact, I have felt nothing but guilt for days.”

“Good.”

Ahkmenrah sighed and swallowed the lump in the back of his throat, and willed himself to meet Kahmunrah’s glower.

“I’m sorry..." Ahk said. “I am sorry you were denied what you thought was rightfully yours. I’m sorry for what I have done to you.”

He paused long enough to blink away the tears beginning to brim his eyes before he continued. “But…you left me with little choice. And for that too, I am sorry.”

Kahmunrah’s black eyes never turned away, nor did his expression of cold hatred ebb. It was staggering to see such emptiness behind living eyes, and their piercing leer did little to allay the lingering guilt. Still, Ahkmenrah continued.

“Do you want to know what else?" he sighed. “I forgive you…I must.”

Slowly, the heavy veil of the pharaoh’s anger started to slip away. The gravity of his words would be lost on Kahmunrah, but the salvation Ahk felt releasing years of tension almost made up for his brother’s apathy.

“I do not want to live my life as you have: harboring grudges and wishing ill upon others. And it is my hope, one day, you could do the same. I want that for you.”

Ahkmenrah half shrugged and his eyes dropped their focus to the shadowed void behind Kah as he considered his brother’s previous observation.

“Maybe that does make me weak…” The pharaoh’s voice faded as the remaining pieces of his anger crumbled and drifted away.

All at once, his mind was overrun with a thousand thoughts that made the ache in his head begin to pulse again. The silence that filled the narrow cell block was sullen and heavy, but Ahk used it to sift through the teeming thoughts in his head quietly.

Kahmunrah sulked back to the shadows of his cell, this time sitting on the ground, his back propped against the wall. Ahk sagged against the wall behind him as well, folding under the weight of his thoughts until he sat, mirroring his brother.

“I want so much for us to be brothers…” Ahk confessed softly.

A single, mirthless chuckle cracked Kah’s silence.

“Well,” he stated in a low voice, devoid of sympathy. “Take a lesson from someone who knows all about disappointment, little brother. And learn that we do not always get what we want.”

A sad smile ghosted over Ahk’s lips as a solitary tear spilled down his cheek. It was foolish to hope his brother would ever change, but Ahkmenrah would never give up.

With a deep breath to build his strength, Ahkmenrah stood feeling, more or less, lighter. All the poison was at last purged from his system, but a hint of disappointment remained as he realized how ruthlessly his brother continued to cling to the bitterness inside.

Sleep beckoned the pharaoh with a yawn, the promise of rest alluring for his frenzied mind. However, one thought dug its hooks too deep in the forefront of his mind to go without seeking an answer. The question alone made Ahk’s stomach churn, but he was much too exhausted to fight his curiosity.

“I dread thinking you may have had a hand in what happened all those years ago regarding the disappearance of my tablet. Framing Nouke’s family to be rid of them—to hurt me.”

He paused, feeling his stomach slosh again, “The assassin even….”

That night flashed so vividly in his mind; the man over him with a knife drawn ready to take his life. Ready to kill a boy of fifteen who’d known no enemies apart from one... Ahkmenrah glanced into the black of Kahmunrah’s cage. No response came from its depths, the deafening stillness causing a chill to prickle over the pharaoh’s skin. And as he left, Ahkmenrah could not decide if Kahmunrah’s silence filled him with more confirmation or fear.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Fifteen: Together Again

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years ago

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Building Home Chapter 5

Hey guys and welcome to another cool fucking chapter by yours truly /j. In all seriousness I am SO excited for this one because hell yeah newsie! Anyways the last chapter title was from S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, kudos to @wishiwasthemoon-tonight for guessing that one!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: We lit the fire

Chapter Wordcount: 4188

Chapter Summary:

The mysterious new crew member arrives, swears a lot, and befriends Cherri Cola.

POV: NewsAGoGo

Warnings: violence, death mentions. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers@stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

Chapter 3 Tumblr Post

Chapter 4 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

NewsAGoGo was hot. And tired. Who would have guessed that the desert was this fucking hot? Well, probably everyone, but it was even hotter than you would reasonably expect from a desert. It was all well and good to say that the desert could reach a hundred degrees or more, something entirely different to actually experience it. It was fucking broiling. NewsAGoGo was cooking in her skin, even in the white clothes she had taken from Battery City. Why in the name of fuck had she decided to do this again? Oh, right, because the other option was to be taken away and trained as an exterminator. Which, if Newsie was going to end up in this goddamn war, they were sure as hell not fighting for the corporation which seemed out to ruin everyone’s fucking lives.

So Newsie was tromping into the desert, tired and hot and did they mention tired? Their feet hurt from walking, and they were starting to think hitchhiking would have been a better idea. The Juvie hall rebels within the city had gotten them out, sure, but actually getting to other killjoys was a whole different story, and so far it was more of a horror story than a fairy tale.

It was about to be even more of a horror story, as Newsie discovered when a car of draculoids started bearing down on her.

“Fuck. Fucking fuck!” Newsie looked around quickly and spotted a handily placed tumbleweed not too far off the road. It probably wouldn’t hide her for long, but it was also sheltered by dunes, and it was by far her best bet. Maybe they could even take out some of the dracs from behind there. So Newsie hurried behind it, waiting for the car to pass by.

It appeared the car wasn’t actually here for them, as it passed by without incident, slowing slightly as it went by. Curious, Newsie hurried over to find that there was a supply truck stopped in the center of the road not a hundred feet off from where she had been, and a killjoy in a distinctive pink mask was standing by it, seemingly unafraid of the car bearing down on them.

Newsie almost shouted a warning before realizing that was one of the most damn stupid ideas they had ever had. It didn’t seem like the killjoy needed one either, as they let the car bear down on them until the last possible second, throwing themselves aside as the car sped past. It took a few minutes for the draculoid driving to be able to turn around, and by then, the killjoy had a ray gun out and pointed at the car. Newsie watched as they shot the draculoid driving, seemingly perfectly unafraid. The car screeched to a halt as another few shots hit the engine of the car, the other dracs hurrying to stop it and get out.

Now that they were outside the shelter of the car, the killjoy’s true skill was revealed. It hardly seemed like a fair fight at first, four dracs on one killjoy, but Newsie realized it was more than fair- it was unfair to the dracs. Two of them were dead within a second, and the third almost cowered in terror as they tried to duel with the killjoy. But whoever the joy was, they had forgotten to account for the fourth drac.

Newsie could hardly believe they were doing this, but they raised the ray gun a few juvie halls had given them and took aim, steadying their hand with their other one as they pulled the trigger.

Her shot didn’t kill the drac outright, but it hit the drac in the arm and made them scream. That was enough to alert the killjoy, who had just finished disarming and knocking out the third drac, and they turned and shot the forth point-blank. Newsie breathed a silent sigh of relief, although she didn’t exactly know why.

Meanwhile, the pink-masked killjoy was looking around. “Whoever fired the first shot on this, I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, you just saved my ass, so thank you!”

Newsie hurried down the slope, hoping this guy could bring them back to some form of civilization or at least somewhere with shade. They were sweltering. “Hey!”

“Hey there!” The killjoy nodded to her. “Thanks for having my back there, I was careless to let that fourth one slip by me.”

“Uh, no problem.”

“I’m Cherri Cola, he/him. Do you have a Zone name yet?”

Newsie thought about it for a second and gave him the name she had considered and debated many times over on the endless walk here. “NewsAGoGo. She/her, uh, and they/them.”

“Nice to meet you. You’re an undergrad, yeah?”

“I would literally be a freshman in high school.”

Cherri Cola stared at them for a second and then cracked up. “Sorry, Zone slang. You’re fresh out of Batt City is what I mean.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fresh out of Battery City, what’s it to you?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I was wondering if you needed a place to stay, I didn’t have one when I got out here either.”

That was...kinder than they expected. They still didn’t trust this strange killjoy with fire in his eyes, but he was their best option for getting somewhere other than the side of a road in Zone whatever. “Yeah, I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Well then I’ll bring you back to Autumn. They’ll take anyone.”

Newsie tried not to be insulted by that as Cherri Cola led her back to his motorcycle. “Fancy ride.”

“D helped me fix it up,” he said, as if she knew who ‘D’ was. “The sidecar’s all full, I hope you don’t mind riding on the back.”

They did mind a little, but it was better than being crammed in a sidecar even if the sidecar hadn’t been full. So they shook their head. “I don’t mind.”

“Great!” Cherri Cola climbed on and gestured her after. “Let’s go before the crows get here.”

Newsie hopped on the motorcycle reluctantly, cautiously hanging on to him. “You better not turn out to be a murderer or something.”

“Oh, I am.” Cherri’s voice was surprisingly calm. “But only of dracs and crows, not miscellaneous teenagers who saved my life.”

“Like you’re not a teenager.”

“I’m almost eighteen!”

“Old person,” Newsie snorted.

“And how old are you, then?”

“Fourteen.”

“Not the youngest ‘joy I’ve known.”

Cherri was a frankly terrible driver, by any sane person’s standard. He went far too fast and took curves at frankly irresponsible speeds, forcing Newsie to hang on tightly. The only good thing that could be said was that he did keep his eyes focused on the road, driving with a fierce intensity, like he was running from something she couldn’t see. So yes, by any sane judgement, Cherri Cola was a fucking terrible driver.

Newsie rather enjoyed his driving. Sure, they had to wrap their arms around his waist so they didn’t fall off the fucking bike, but the speed was exciting. Freeing. Of all the times Newsie had talked to random strangers over the course of her life, this had to be one of the best outcomes.

And so down the desert roads they went, kicking up dust behind them as Cherri Cola took them back to what appeared to be a small settlement. It had the look of a pre-Helium Wars era town, but as they got closer, Newsie could see that all the buildings were in varying states of destruction, and graffiti was everywhere. Color was the resounding theme of the area, and killjoys hollered back and forth to each other across the broken down streets. It was noisy and chaotic and eye-scorching, and Newsie loved it already.

“Welcome to our town.” Cherri’s voice had a hint of pride in it as he honked the horn at a few killjoys in their way.

“It’s fucking loud.” It was fucking perfect.

“The noise comes with having a bunch of kids in a town.” He pulled to a stop in front of a tall house with ‘House of Soup’ spray painted over the door.

Newise snorted and Cherri shot her a glare. “Care to help me unload?”

“Fine.”

She helped him carry in several large boxes of varying things, batteries and power pup mainly, and got quite a few stares.

“Hey, Cher!” That was a killjoy with bleached white streaks through their hair, bearing a wide smile as they leaned in to hug Cherri. “Who’s this?”

“NewsAGoGo, she’s new to the desert. She/they.” Cherri turned to Newsie. “This is White Lily, she/her and leader of the current rebellion, as much as we have any one leader.”

“Pleased to meet you.” White Lily’s smile seemed genuine, although her eyes blazed with a similar fire to Cherri’s.

Newsie shook her offered hand carefully. “Nice to meet you.”

“So you’re staying with us?” White Lily didn’t wait for a reply before turning back to Cherri. “Cher, you can take off your mask, you know.”

He sighed and pushed his pink mask up onto his forehead, revealing the dark circles under his eyes and the child-like softness of his face, a sharp contrast to his angular cheekbones.

“A literal child, that’s what you look like,” Newsie declared.

Cherri glared at her. “I know I look like I’m twelve, fuck off.” His face might have been young, but his eyes were old and frankly the only even vaguely intimidating thing about him. If Newsie hadn’t watched him face down a car full of dracs on his own, they would have thought he was nothing to be afraid of.

“You look younger than me.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was entertaining to watch Cherri’s face at that.

“Alright, I’m off to talk to D,” White Lily declared. “You can talk to Autumn Assassin about finding a room for them.” Her words were casual, but the tone made it clear it was an order.

“I will, tell D he needs to come in pretty soon if he doesn’t want to miss dinner.”

Newsie was starting to wonder if she was going to meet this mysterious D. “So...Autumn Assassin?”

“The person who runs this house. They should be out back.” Cherri led them through the house and out to the backyard area, where a short, red-haired killjoy appeared to be teaching a much taller one how to hold a ray gun. “Hey, Autumn!”

“Oh, hey, Cola.” They didn’t turn, busy adjusting the other killjoy’s grip.

“Do we have a spare room?”

“Not right now, we’re at capacity with that new crew of joys.”

“Fuck.”

“Why?”

Cherri gestured at Newsie.

“Oh, newbie.” Autumn Assassin looked Newsie up and down. “We’ve got an extra mattress, but not another room, do you think you and your crew can let them stay with you? Assuming you’re okay with that, kid.”

Cherri huffed a sigh. “D and Lil probably won’t mind. NewsAGoGo?”

“Guess I’ll stay with you.” They didn’t know what possessed them to do so, but after a second they add a small “Fucker.”

To their surprise, Cherri laughed. “You won’t be a bad roommate, I think.”

Newsie started her career as Cherri’s roommate by sticking to his side like a limpet, unwilling to leave the one person she actually knew. Cherri tolerated this with a surprising amount of grace, giving them a patient smile as he led them upstairs to put the spare mattress in the room they would now be sharing with Cherri, Lily, and whoever D was. He didn’t protest it, not even as they followed him outside.

“Where are we going?”

“You need killjoy clothes.”

Newsie frowned in annoyance that he just assumed they’d follow, but to be fair, they had followed him everywhere so far. “So where are we going?”

“Tommy Chow Mein’s.”

Cherri Cola took them to the store across the way, what looked to have once been a general store. Now it was still one, but a killjoy one, filled with everything from bubblegum to ray guns to miscellaneous bits of clothing, which were what Cherri headed for. “Here we go.”

“I have literally ten carbons.”

“Tommy knows me, I’ll get you a discount. Plus, D, Lil and I have some to spare.”

Newsie stared at the floor. “You better not be helping me because I’m pitiful and just ran away from home because fucking Better Living was going to turn me into one of their fucking soldiers so I ran and ran and walked so fucking far in that heat and now I look like a fucking mess.”

She didn’t have to look up to know his face was sympathetic, she could feel it in his gaze. “I’m not helping you because your life has been shit or I feel bad for you, I’m helping you because it’s a decent thing to do. Plus, I’ve been there,” he added after a second. “I came out to the desert with no one to help me or a single fucking person who cared.”

Newsie glanced up at that. “So now you just help random killjoys?”

Cherri shrugged. “Mostly I kill dracs. But sometimes, yeah.”

She was still somewhat reluctant, but she picked out a shiny-looking peach jacket, ripped black jeans, an utterly hideous purple, green and gold shirt, and sturdy boots with purple laces.

Cherri gave them a thumbs up of approval, grinning at the outfit. “You have style.”

“You don’t.” He was wearing a turquoise t-shirt, jeans that approximately resembled the ground in how dusty they were, and a black leather jacket which was clearly too small for him.

Cherri flipped them off and dropped a couple of carbons on the counter along with the clothes Newsie had grabbed.

“Swindler,” Tommy Chow Mein snorted. “Are you trying to cheat me out of all these clothes?”

“Who got you out of that clap the other week? And besides, a swindler is someone who sells overpriced goods.”

Tommy gave him a small glare but took the money. “You’re impudent.”

“And you’re a capitalist, your point?”

That earned them a sigh. “Say hi to D for me.”

“Will do.” Cherri gave Newsie a glance that said ‘follow me’ and hurried out of the store. They followed him back across the street and over to Autumn Assassin’s house, heading inside to find the living room just as chaotic as before and the short killjoy from earlier stirring a pot of...something in the kitchen.

"That'll be dinner," Cherri told her with a grin.

At dinner that night, Newsie finally got to meet the mysterious D, who turned out to be a rather tired looking killjoy in a deep brown leather jacket.

“D, this is NewsAGoGo, she/they. They’ll be staying with us because Autumn doesn’t have a spare room,” Cherri introduced. “NewsAGoGo- can I call you Newsie? Or is that not a good nickname- this is Dr. Death Defying, he/they. We all call him D.”

“You can call me Newsie, I guess. Fucker.” She shook D’s offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, NewsAGoGo.” His smile was tired but friendly.

Newsie’s first night there was a little bit strange, trying to sleep in a strange room with three strangers asleep just across from her. Or, well, not asleep, in the case of the stranger who had brought her here. By virtue of not being able to sleep, they were the only one awake to see Cherri roll off the mattress with a muffled curse, climbing to his feet and rubbing his eyes as he wandered over to the window.

“Hey. Fucker,” Newsie hissed.

He turned, looking a little startled. “Yeah?”

“Whacha doing?”

“Can’t sleep. You?”

“Me too.” She climbed off her own mattress, coming over to join him by the window. “What do you do when that happens out here?”

“Look at the stars, mostly. There aren’t any stars in Battery City.”

“Smart.” Newsie looked out the window, staring up at what looked like hundreds, no, thousands of stars. “Holy shit.”

“There are a lot, yeah.”

“No shit.” It might have been the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, with the possible exception of the killjoy town by daytime. But that was beautiful in a different way, colors and noise and life that made you feel brave. The stars were beautiful in a quiet way that made you feel small and like everything was going to be okay. Newsie understood why Cherri liked to watch them at night. There was a strange sort of comfort in being reminded how truly tiny your place in the universe was.

They glanced over at him. “So…Cherri Cola, huh? You really like soda?”

“My sister did.”

Newsie didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Thankfully Cherri continued the conversation, keeping the silence from being crushing. “Why did you pick NewsAGoGo?”

“GoGo because I’m always going, I guess. News because of the old reporter droids who took care of me. So NewsAGoGo.”

“That makes sense.”

The silence that followed was a little awkward, but not crushingly so. Eventually, Newsie started yawning.

“You should sleep.”

“You should too, but I didn’t say anything,” Newsie shot back quietly.

“I’ll sleep if you will,” Cherri said dryly.

“Fine.” This time, she could actually fall asleep, Newsie found. The silence wasn’t so harsh, and it felt safer to sleep in a room with three others now that one wasn’t so much a stranger.

Conversations like that became common as Newsie settled into living with the other three. Neither they nor Cherri could sleep through the night, most nights. So when their nightmares overlapped, the two of them would stand by the window and talk about the past and Battery City and all the things you didn’t discuss when the sun was shining bright overhead.

Her bond with D and White Lily was nowhere near the same, even if it also tentatively grew stronger. D and Lily didn’t join them at night, even if it wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be awake either. Lily left the room, every time. Newsie suspected she didn’t want the others to hear her cry. D did…something. Newsie didn’t know. Maybe they just laid awake. Either way, it was only her and Cherri who stood by the window.

It was her and Cherri who tended to go out on missions, too. Cherri took her with him more often and more as the days went on. Newsie had continued her policy of sticking to him like a limpet, and he didn’t seem to mind that. So he took them on raids, bringing them to fight exterminators and on all sorts of dangerous things fourteen year olds were absolutely not supposed to do and Newsie rather enjoyed.

He also brought her to Autumn Assassin, who declared that it was absolutely their responsibility to teach Newsie how to shoot a ray gun properly, as well as a variety of other weapons and American Sign Language (useful for communicating silently in claps and with nonverbal or hard of hearing killjoys, Cherri explained). Newsie didn’t exactly object to that, although they did wish a little someone else could teach them. Autumn Assassin was a bit harsh, not exactly sharp but definitely straightforward. Cherri promised it would be okay, though, and Newsie trusted him more than the rest, at least.

Cherri was almost always there when they were doing lessons as well, taking his own shots at the target. Whether that was for his sake or Newsie’s was debatable, but they didn’t mind his presence. Autumn Assassin corrected him almost as much, and they also made him practice a variety of other weapons. Cherri turned out to be terrifyingly good at shooting, but not bad with the rest either. And Newsie wasn’t as good a shot- almost no one was, except maybe Autumn Assassin- but they enjoyed the other forms of combat

“Thank you,” D told her one day. He was standing next to Newsie and watching Cherri spar with Autumn Assassin, circling each other and fighting like their lives depended on it- they very well might, some day.

“For what?”

D gestured vaguely around. “Being here.”

They eyed the other somewhat suspiciously. “I haven’t done shit for you.”

“You have for Cherri.” D glanced over at where Autumn Assassin was tackling Cherri into the dust. “He really likes talking to you, and he’s a lot less resistant to taking you on missions than others.”

“Oh.”

“I’d rather he let me come along,” they continued, “but being willing to take you is a step in the right direction. No offense to you, but you’re inexperienced, and I would feel safer if he would let me help him.”

“He’s a stubborn bastard.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Fuck! Good one!” Autumn Assassin’s nose was bleeding as they and Cherri tromped over, both grinning.

“Got them,” Cherri said proudly. “D, you want to get your ass kicked by Autumn?”

“I’ll kick their ass,” D threatened, but he was smiling too.

“Try me, bitch boy,” Autumn Assassin deadpanned.

“I will and you know I will.”

“Shooting competition?”

“Don’t pick something you know you can beat me at, coward.”

“Then draw swords,” Autumn challenged.

Cherri laughed and came to stand next to Newsie as they watched the two older killjoys fight. “Those two have some sort of rivalry going on, I think.” “A friendly one or a ‘they want to stab each other’ one like you and Tommy Chow Mein?”

“Tommy doesn’t want to stab me, I’m his best customer,” Cherri said indigently. “And a friendly one, they’re friends but also enjoy fighting. Although that’s nothing compared to some others, you should see Lily and Autumn really get going, though.”

“Really? Do they hate each other?” Newsie hadn’t seen much of their dynamic, but it seemed more friendly than anything.

“Oh, no, they’re great friends, but they do enjoy trying to beat the shit out of each other.”

They nodded. She was still learning about the dynamics of the household, between the chaotic crews that called themselves the Brit Boys and the Tumbleweed Chasers and Autumn Assassin, between Autumn Assassin and each member of Cherri’s crew, which thus far had no name. Autumn Assassin was head of the household in a fairly clear way, but beyond that, the relationships were hard to pin down.

The dynamics between Cherri’s crew she thought she had down a little bit better. Cherri was very much the baby of the crew- at least he had been until she arrived- and D and Lily had a shared sort of solidarity of having fought in the wars. Both were ridiculously protective of Cherri, and Cherri was protective of them in turn. How intensely he fought was for many reasons, Newsie thought, but protecting his friends had to rank high on there. They hadn’t gone on many missions with more than one of the crew, but the one they had, they had watched Cherri jump between D and a scarecrow despite the older ‘joy’s protests.

So Cherri became more and more of her best friend, and D and Lily almost equally close. They learned things like that Cherri’s favorite color was pink and D liked old music and listened to Metallica and Lily had been a comic book nerd as a kid. And in return, they told their own stories, if quietly and for few ears. How they liked technology (D was very happy with that one, immediately asking if they would help with the radio station) and didn’t have the patience for chess but had learned how to play checkers better than anyone they knew.

While it might have been easy for other people to see only the personas the three (and now four) of them put on, Dr. Death Defying as the confident radio announcer and White Lily the inspiring rebellion leader, while Cherri Cola was a brave sharpshooter, Newsie was never not able to look past that. She hadn’t met Cherri as Cherri Cola, best sharpshooter of the killjoy’s forces, who would later go head to head with exterminators, she had met him as a dorky seventeen year old who drove too fast. Lily had never been White Lily, invincible leader of a rebellion doomed to fail, she had always been Cherri’s friendly roommate, while D had been that tired guy in a brown jacket. Utterly and completely human.

Although Newsie was nowhere as famous as those three yet, they had started to attract notice of their own. NewsAGoGo, radio assistant, that kid who rode with the Trio. Fighting shit with Cherri didn’t help that impression. Because as it turned out, there were consequences for being friends with the three most influential figures of a rebellion, and those consequences included a reputation and dracs constantly trying to get you ghosted. Newsie was getting very good at fighting them off and brushing off the occasional stare or whispered comment. Maybe it wasn’t right that she had to learn, maybe it wasn’t just that a fourteen-year-old had been put in this situation, but this was war. And Newsie learned quickly.

#newsagogo #cherri cola #dr. death defying #auri writes #ttlofk #white lily #building home tag #coming coming home tag

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