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softbiker · 5 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

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mannatea · 4 years ago

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Excuse me I want the opinions about the apocalyptic humans are the real monsters please!

>Are you sure you would like to board this train?

Anyway, sure! I have a lot of thoughts. And opinions. And considerations. Hopefully this train of thought is worth the trip. All aboaaaaard!

Part I: This Mentality Doesn’t Exist in Just Fiction!

I take issue with this phrasing as a general rule because humans are still human. Calling them “monsters” for their evil deeds—something everyone is capable of performing, by the way—is just...asinine to the nth degree. Sure, we’d all like to imagine we’re not capable of Great Evil, but WE ARE.

I don’t want to dive into Purity Police Politics here, but here’s a question for (general) you: where is the line drawn? What makes a “bad” person “a monster” vs. just being a bad/thoughtless/careless person?

I think we can all agree that objectively some acts are evil. If you’ve been following the news this year, you probably have a million examples, but (TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS LINK) here’s a particularly terrible one; they even call the abusers monsters in this news article. Why? I think you know why. They want to emotionally distance themselves. They want to believe that these people are unique in their ability to cause harm and suffering to another human being.

But WOWEE!!! Spoiler alert: the writer is just as capable of abuse as the people who committed the crime!!!!

Don’t get me wrong, I think most people are UNLIKELY to commit a crime like that, or even hurt another person with malicious intent or hatred in their hearts. But to pretend we are not all capable of it is putting yourself on a pedestal above the rest of humanity, and...I dunno. That’s awfully cocky.

Tumblr in particular loves to talk about toxicity and abuse, and they love to paint themselves as “better than” or “above” that behavior, but 1) we are all capable of toxicity, have been problematic in our lifetime, and have probably done something abusive to someone else at one point or another, and 2) we must remember that this is true of everyone else as well as ourselves. The important thing is that we strive to behave better, to learn to recognize when we are hurting someone else, to CARE THAT WE MIGHT BE HURTING SOMEONE ELSE, and to actively work to just be better/kinder people.

I totally get the desire to call a cruel, abusive, or evil person “a monster” but THEY ARE NOT. They are people. People are not infallible. Monsters by definition are imaginary creatures, but the abuse these people inflict is real. The crimes are real. The hurt is real. The effect these people have on those around them is as real as they themselves are, and to pretend for even a moment that it’s not, that they are somehow separate from you and I, that the rules apply differently for them than you and I, is just...harmful?

Because again, where do you draw the line?

Part II: Using Monster as an Insult

Monsters are creations, always, as they are by definition imaginary creatures. I think some might look to the Nature vs. Nurture Debate when it comes to criminal acts to try and justify their use of the word “monster” to refer to people like the abusers in the link above (aka: “society shaped them into that, it was never their natural inclination”) but that feels vaguely like cherry-picking to me, and I don’t like it.

Also, “Monster” is used as such a joking insult online these days (you’re a monster for dissing my anime waifu headcanons) it’s lost its bite if it ever had it to begin with. My beloved cat CiCi’s nickname was ‘Monster’ because the first Christmas I had her she rolled around on the Christmas presents and hissed at anyone who tried to move them. We also have an energy drink named Monster. Cookie Monster. Created ‘monsters’ with their own lore like werewolves and vampires and kelpies and Bigfoot.

So you risk one of three things by calling someone a monster: 1) it comes across like a joking insult/cute pet name, 2) you’re putting them on par with beings that literally do not exist except in fiction, and that half of this hellsite wants to fuck MANY people actually enjoy talking/reading about as part of an entire literary genre, or 3) you’re saying they’re literally not human beings and therefore not worth being considered as such.

None of these options are good.

Part III: “Humans Were the Real Monsters All Along!™”

Maybe when literacy levels were super low and only the wealthy had the leisure time and access to literature they could read for fun, this kind of reveal was Intriguing, but I’m here to tell you that it’s never been interesting to any person who has lived in the real world, like, ever.

I feel like for children this may be different (I dunno, as a child you don’t always understand what’s going on around you/are more likely to be sheltered from these kinds of truths outside of fiction), but I highly doubt that, say, peasants in 1620 weren’t well aware that humans were capable of evil.

Sure, they did the same thing we like to do and called people who committed particularly heinous acts ‘monsters’ (probably for the same reasons we do as well as because they wanted to believe they were safe in their communities and that their neighbors were also different and not capable of doing that sort of thing) but again you see the general level of denial:

This person is not like me.

I am different.

I must call them something else.

Which, yes you are different, but the difference is NOT in WHAT you are, it’s in HOW YOU ACT and the emotions you act upon!

Society has a history of doing this separation, and of revealing in fiction that humans are actually the real monsters, but again, those of us who exist in the real world already know that human beings are capable of great evil. Even if we are surprised by the level of vileness or not is irrelevant; we all know that logically this kind of thing happens in the real world and that human beings are responsible for it.

Part IV: Bad Reveal. BAD!

In some pieces of media, the writers go out of their way to be like, “THE MONSTERS WE’VE HATED ALL THIS TIME AND HAVE BEEN FIGHTING WERE ONCE HUMAN LIKE US. WE COULD BECOME LIKE THEM! OH NO!”

Which...lol.

Let’s look at zombies, a monster created for the sake of this kind of narrative. They were “once human” but are now mindless beings completely unaware of the hurt they are inflicting, even on those they might have known in their lifetime. Zombies can infect living human beings, turning them into zombies. The humans in these stories don’t want to become zombies, so they fight the zombies (with varying results, depending on the particular piece of media you choose to consume).

Zombie stories have a huge cult following; people love this kind of thing. On the surface you might think zombie stories fit the above narrative, and they do, but like...literally. “They were human once but aren’t anymore!” is almost never a reveal in these stories; it’s something everyone already knows and is actively fighting against.

"Humans are the real monsters” rarely has much to do with the zombies. It almost always occurs when a human in the group of survivors betrays the others in a big way.

The betrayer is then painted as the REAL monster here, the REAL threat. You might notice that lot of post-apocalyptic and/or humans-vs.-monsters fiction follows the same pattern: humans fight monsters, (optional ingredient: the monsters were once human!), and then they find out that Actually, Humans Were the Real Monsters All Along!

Again, anyone reading this post already knows that. They go out in public and see people who can’t be assed to wear a mask. “Wah it itches.” “Wah I can’t breathe.” “Wah it’s inconvenient for me and I’m not infected I know I’m fine!”

These same maskless fools would tell you to your face that the betrayer in these stories is a monster. They themselves, however, are not capable of hurting other people! They’re better than that! That person is a monster! They would never betray their allies. Except they do, every day, by refusing to wear a mask to protect other people from themselves. “Just in case” isn’t a good enough reason for them because it’s an inconvenience and they don’t like how it feels.

Sure, wearing a mask during a pandemic seems like such a small thing compared to, you know, betraying your fellow survivors in the apocalypse, but you have to consider context. If wearing a mask during a pandemic that has literally killed huNDreDS oF thousands is so inconvenient they won’t even wear it for the 3 minutes they are in the gas station...would you trust this person in a post-apocalyptic setting? Would they gather food for a physically disabled survivor? Would they literally fight to protect someone ill? Share resources fairly? You know if they can’t wear a mask for three minutes in a whole damn day they wouldn’t step up like that. They could easily end up being the betrayer in a situation like that. They’ve never been desperate enough to do something like that before, and they probably don’t think they’re capable of it now, but we know what they do when something is a minor inconvenience to them. Imagine a major inconvenience. Imagine their whole life being turned upside-down!

My issues with the reveal of “Humans are actually the real monsters!” are many, but the biggest issue I take with it from a writing perspective is that it’s almost never accurate when you look at the scope of the story.

Tens of thousands of zombies vs. one (1) betrayer: and you’re telling me the betrayer is the real monster? The bigger threat??? BULLSHIT. Sure, it takes a real asshole to betray people during the literal apocalypse, but that act doesn’t take away from the fact that they are human, LET ALONE the fact that using this particular point as a Big Important Reveal tells me you’re a shit writer who thinks you’re smart.

(For the record, you might have a character who will prioritize this and consider that betrayer the bigger threat, but we’re not talking about character development/motivations so much as overarching narratives the writer includes in the story separate from that.)

Anyway, I’m not saying stories with this premise in them are shit, I’m saying that this concept as a big plot reveal/climax of a story is shit. How can this even be a reveal worth revealing? Has anyone ever turned on the news?

Part V: Drawing the Line and Other Particulars

I definitely do not have the expertise or the experience to make this a detailed point, so please forgive me for that, but let’s talk about that line again, because this point absolutely cannot be overlooked.

Where is it? What makes one person who commits a crime or evil act a monster and not another? Is it the act committed? Their mental state? What about the mentally ill? What about neurodivergent people? What about children?

As an extreme example: is a woman who throws her baby off a building a monster? NO!!! SHE’S HUMAN and she did something terrible. We might like to say we’re different and we would neVeR do that, but we don’t know because we have never been in her shoes. We are missing context even the courts will never have or fully grasp. We do not know or understand her mental state no matter what the doctors say. Calling her a monster doesn’t do anything but put her in a separate category from the rest of us, which is harmful on SO many levels, starting with the fact that it means nobody talks to her, nobody gets her side of the story, nobody listens, and so we have no perspective, no understanding, no desire to learn.

Things like this are why it took so long for PPD to even begin to be understood, and why EVEN NOW women are afraid to talk about it and all related issues. I follow a ob-gyn on YouTube and the amount of women in her comments who thank her (oftentimes VERY emotionally) for openly saying it’s normal to not immediately feel a connection to your baby when they are born is mind-blowing. Not everyone will feel that! Sometimes you have to get to know your baby because they are an individual person and that is how love works for some people! But 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 20 years ago, 100 years ago: that was unthinkable to admit. You lied about it and you felt like a terrible person instead. What kind of mom doesn’t love their baby instantly? You must be the worst. Meanwhile, the woman you’re getting your information from doesn’t feel that bond either and is lying about it because she feels pressured and just as bad as you do. All this suffering, and for what?! Stigma. Being told you’re not human if you don’t feel like that.

Don’t you know the bond with that baby suffered from this issue, too? Don’t you think it affected the parent/child relationship for the rest of their lives?

Not everyone who commits a crime falls into a category like this, and maybe the woman in my example doesn’t either, but I hope your takeaway is that calling people monsters keeps them separated from other people to the point where their story becomes just as fictional as the monsters they are called, and when it is heard it is enjoyed as fiction, rather than seriously considered.

Let’s not pretend that this separation of humanity into “human” and “not human” based on the way someone acts hasn’t hindered progress in the mental health/medical fields for everyone. When people are not considered human they are not given human treatment, rights, consideration, or empathy.

Part VI: TL;DR:

we are all human and capable of doing bad things.

the difference between a bad person and you or I is a lot more complex and multilayered than “they did a terrible thing and I did not do that terrible thing.”

calling people ‘monsters’ for the bad things they do dehumanizes them and may:

strip them of responsibility for their actions by insinuating they were born that way or they aren’t actually human like you and I, and/or

prevent them from getting the help they need/from others who have not done anything bad yet getting the help they need

it’s not a good reveal in fiction

because most of us already know people commit evil acts,

and it is oftentimes is presented in a way that doesn’t actually make sense for the story.

Sorry that it got long and probably isn’t very well organized! I wrote it in bursts at work. But anyway yeah...

I don’t mind when characters feel this way about other characters, but to see it used as a narrative feature/reveal/et cetera in fiction is like, so tiresome. No shit, Sherlock. I turn on the news. I followed true crime for a while. WE ALL KNOW PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF DOING TERRIBLE, AWFUL THINGS TO OTHER LIVING THINGS.

Having *that* be your big reveal in a story is so childish it embarrasses me to see it. Wow, congrats on figuring out something at 47 that the rest of us learned on the playground before we turned 7!

#highwind91 #answered mail #tw: abuse #long post #idk i feel like posting this is a bad idea...??#oh well it's make idiot decisions day!#it's ok to reblog if u want thx for asking chi!

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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So this is definitely one of my least favorite things to do, because there’s so many people on here that need help, but if anyone has a couple bucks or a five they can spare, that would be an enormous help to me today.

For those that know my situation, as far as I know, everything is still on track for me to have the lets-pull-all-twenty-eight - of-your-remaining-teeth-at-once-it’ll-be-fun! surgery on Tuesday. I’m reeeeally looking forward to it, and also the Month of Living Without Any Teeth At All while I heal and they figure out the fittings and everything for my bionic teeth or whatever. Everything about it sounds swell. Can’t wait, it’ll be great.

SO. The plan is for me to take the bus out to the desert on Monday afternoon, reenact some of the best scenes from Saw on Tuesday morning while under hopefully heavy sedation, with fingers and toes crossed that these doctors actually listen to me for once about my ridiculous metabolism making most anesthetics wear off super fast. Because. Ugh. Doctors literally never believe me about that which has led to some pretty not cool experiences in the past, but none of those experiences have been yanking out every one of my teeth by the root all in one go, soooooooo, if ever there was a time for them to think maybe I actually know what I’m talking about and make adjustments for that, I’m pretty sure I want this to be that time.

Thanks to my keen intuition, I have predicted that this whole process is something I probably want to be deeply unconscious for, and during, and tbh, maybe a week or so after that too. But like, I’ll mostly settle for just not waking up when they’re only actually on tooth eight, you know?

If I seem like I’m babbling cuz I’m nervous, its probably cuz I’m babbling cuz I’m nervous. I’m so not kidding about unpleasant experiences with anesthetics in the past, so while this wasn’t actually my reason for making this post, while I’m thinking about it, if anyone wants to also maybe shoot a quick prayer-tweet over to whomever you might personally @ with that kind of thing, I would be super grateful for anything of that nature, like something along the lines of “Dear Merciful Higher Power/Universe/etc, if there’s any way you could see to it that Kalen spends most of Tuesday knocked the fuck out, that would be awesome, thanks!”

Its just, I’m kinda over being in excruciating pain all day every day, like, I gave it a shot, just don’t think its for me, I’m afraid I just don’t have what it takes to be a hardcore raging masochist or whatever, so I’m just really not looking to set any new personal pain records next week if at all possible.

ANYWAY, requests for spamming higher powers on my behalf aside, the other reason for this post is I only have $3 in my bank account and an appointment this afternoon whose co-pay is going to be $50. But I can NOT miss this appointment, its super critical. See, so, the other thing is, my jaw has decided its reached the point where it just doesn’t want to close at all anymore, so I’ve gone from only eating once a day to only eating no times a day, and since I’ve already lost an absurd amount of weight and muscle mass over the last two years because of all this shit, they’ve put me on a regimen of regular IV intakes or whatever that’s called, just to like....get the nutrients I need into me somehow, y’know?

And especially with the surgery coming up on Tuesday, and my immune system all shot to hell and my various other Vitally Important By-Products of Eating Food levels are low enough to have my doctor using mostly just four letter words when reviewing my latest labs, they’re literally trying to pump me full of as much of the various Nutrients And Other Stuff IVs as they safely can between now and then. And as much as I’ve been pretty much going 24/7 trying to stay afloat with all of this, I just...did NOT budget for needing to be hooked up to an IV every other day because my fucking jaw picked now to level up on being an asshole and like, physically will not cooperate with my attempts to survive on cheap $5 a day meals.

So instead this week its been $50 co-pays every other day, because apparently when your body for whatever reason literally can’t take in the cheap 7-11 snacks and Happy Meals you usually live off of because That’s How Being Poor Works, it makes total sense that the one and only alternative for keeping your body fueled is to go to this little clinic place that hooks you up like you’re at a gas station, except you’re some kinda pretentious European model that won’t accept any less than the top dollar diesel, because I guess even Bags of Nutrient Water gotta somehow manage to be name brand shit, because yay capitalism. Everything about it is just so efficient and logical and works so well, especially if you’re part of the 99%.

Anyway I’m TRULY sorry I’m all over the place with this, I haven’t taken my ADHD meds because swallowing is the Devil’s Work right now, and also I haven’t had my daily Bag of Nutrient Water yet so my brain is like no I will not be cooperating. To sum up, once I get to next week I’m all set, everything’s in place for the surgery, insurance, I have a place to recuperate, I even already have my bus ticket for Monday purchased, my specific monetary issue right now is I am literally down to my last $3, I am currently physically unable to chew my way through a full meal, so I’m literally just paying co-pays of $50 every other day to spend 45 minutes sitting in a chair while my body sucks life-sustaining nutrient water through a needle.

That might actually be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said or heard said and yet its factually 100% true. Our world is so fucking bonkers, jfc.

Literally ANY help getting me to today’s appointment, would be amazing, and then I have one scheduled for Monday morning before I leave, if I can find a way to make that too. And tbh I don’t actually know if one is even an option for tomorrow yet because the clinic I’ve been going to so far isn’t open tomorrow and I’ve yet to hear back if my doctor found somewhere else to send me that I can actually get to. So who the fuck even knows.

So yeah, sorry for making you ping-pong your way through that mess, this is my brain on Empty, like I said, I haven’t had my Bag of Water yet today. But any help is appreciated, whether reblogs, donations or good-thought-tweets for me on Tuesday. I’m a big fan of any of the above. Even $2 or $5 gets me closer to what I need, and if you can’t spare anything or have already sent or are sending what you can spare to another donation post, I totally and completely understand. And again, even just....good thoughts for Tuesday would be awesome, and certainly can’t hurt. I’m not like, worried about the surgery or whatever, its pretty simple, its more just....extensive. And my only real hope or want for it is just keeping the Ow factor as limited as it can possibly be. Whether that’s from the doctors coming through with a good strong hit of the goofy juice or some higher power telling all my nerve endings to take a sick day or just sit this one out, I am so open to either or anything in between or even coming out of left field.

And now I’m done. Thank you. You’re all rockstars, or insert your genre of choice. In conclusion, capitalism sucks, eat the rich, and buy a bi a bag of water today please. I’m pretty sure there’s a T-shirt slogan in there somewhere, but fuck if I can pin it down.If anyone else does, hey, go nuts with it. I’m literally a bi guy who needs to buy bags of nutrient water every other day right now. That’s so fucking dumb, someone’s gotta be able to milk some mileage out of it.

My Paypal:

https://paypal.me/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

Or if that link doesn’t work, try this one instead:

https://www.paypal.com/paypalme2/bigskydreaming?locale.x=en_US

My Ko-fi page: https://ko-fi.com/kalenp

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kitten-anarchy · 4 years ago

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nothing but the truth (1/2)

His body is burning hot, shaking in the way it would in the early days. He doesn’t know where he is, everything blurring together as black spots dance in his vision. The tight feeling in his chest is a leaky and dripping thing, filling up his lungs and crawling up his throat, and Five just wants it out.

Distantly, he can hear a lock click.

“Five? Five!” Two strong hands wrap around his shoulders, a blurred face breaking through his haze of panic. Five blinks and the image focuses - it’s Diego, hauling him up by his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

He bursts.

(Following their collective un-adoption, Five gets injected with a truth serum, has a bit of a breakdown, and finally gets a hug. Post S2 - S.A. exists.)

Part 2 (Coming Soon)

AO3 Link (Coming Soon)

They all practically collapse into a motel, bruised and bloody but alive. They no longer have a home, their lives are in shambles, but at the very least, he and his siblings aren’t dead. Five has learned to take what he can get. Allison rumors them two connecting rooms with ease, and they all file in.

Five plops himself down on a ratty wooden armchair tucker in the far corner. It’s got a good view of the rest of the room, and it’s close to a window. His side twinges at the thought of having to sleep upright on the uncomfortable and splintered insult to furniture, but it’s a small price to pay for safety.

“Is everyone okay?” Luther asks, collapsing onto one of the queen-sized beds. With the way it groans, Five is surprised it hasn’t collapsed under his weight already. Diego falls into the other one next to him, gripping his gut. “Diego?”

“I’m fine. It’s just the fucking stab wound Dad gave me acting up.” Diego mutters, face pinched.

“Join the club,” Five mutters. Amidst the chaos that was fighting the Sparrow Academy completely unprepared, the man had managed to stab him with a needle. Five had managed to shake it off before all of it was emptied into his body, but the fact that he doesn’t know what it’s going to do to him is… unsettling.

It’ll be fine. Five can handle whatever side-effects it throws at him by himself.

“You join the club,” Diego snaps back, bringing him back to the present. “Dad stabbed me first!” He pauses, brows furrowing. “Wait, when did you get stabbed by Dad?”

“Does it matter? It’s Dad.” Diego stares at him, pushing himself up on an elbow.

“Five—“

“Do we even still call ‘Dad’ now? I mean, he pretty much un-adopted us.” Klaus wonders out loud, stretching out next to Diego with his legs crossed. “Don’t even get me started on Emo-Ben.”

“‘Emo-Ben’?” Allison quirks an eyebrow, placing a first aid kit on the coffee table in the middle of the room. She tosses Diego a bottle of aspirin. Five makes a mental note to sneak some pills from it later.

“Yeah, ‘cause of his awful bangs. Where’d you get that?”

“Asked the motel owner while I was getting this room. It’s not great, I know”

“Should I get some food?” Vanya asks, wiping the sweat from her pale face. Fighting against the Sparrow Academy’s attempts to capture them had taken a lot out of her.

“No offense, Van, but you look like you’re gonna pass out,” Klaus says. “So does Five, honestly.” Five jerks slightly at the mention, instinctively gripping the briefcase tighter.

He doesn’t want to deal with their worry right now. (‘Where was it when the world was about to be destroyed?’ A quiet, bitter part of him hisses.)

“Actually,” Allison says, glancing between him and Vanya with her stupid mothering eyes. “I think I saw a small shop downstairs. Does anyone want anything?”

“I want chips! And a bottle of nail polish, thank you.”

“I can come help, if you want,” Five can practically see Luther’s tail wagging as he sits up to look at Allison hopefully. He’d laugh if his chest didn’t hurt so much.

“Some notebooks and pens would be nice,” Five mutters, absentmindedly rubbing at his neck. The injection point is starting to itch, and he digs his grimy nails in further, practically clawing at it in a vain attempt to get the sensation to stop. There’s a tight knot in his chest like he’s gotten heartburn, and he can’t seem to breathe. “I’m taking a shower.” He says, abruptly standing up and brushing past his siblings towards the dingy motel bathroom.

As soon as the lock clicks, Five throws up.

Five practically tears the shower curtains off of the rod when Klaus busts down the bathroom door, clothes in hand. “Oh, Five-y!” He chirps, setting them down on the cracked toilet seat. “I come bearing gifts!” They must have gone out for new clothes - Klaus has shed his 60s get up for a loose black skirt and some band t-shirt.

“The door was locked,” He hisses. “Do you even know what the word ‘knock’ means?”

Klaus laughs, turning to look at him. “Of course I do, Fi—ive, Christ on a cracker!” His mouth drops open. It’s the bruises, Five realizes belatedly and clutches the curtain tighter to his chest. “What happened?”

He bats away the hand that’s reaching to grab the shower curtain. “Unlike the rest of you, I haven’t exactly had the luxury of sitting around and playing house.” Between two apocalypses, there wasn’t any time to worry about old wounds and a couple of bruises. Besides, Five’s gotten used to the dull aches of pain. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. Get out.”

Klaus stares at him. “Uh, I think it matters a lot? You look like someone used you as a punching bag. You need help, Five.”

You need help, Five.

Now they want to help? Not when the entire world is on the line?

His thin, fraying line of patience snaps.

“Get out, Klaus!” He snaps, throwing a bar of soap at the younger man. Klaus flees at that moment, leaving the bar of soap to hit the door and fall onto the dirty floor.

Great.

Five turns off the shower.

The clothes Klaus brought are clearly for adults much bigger than this stupid body’s skinny frame - the shirt comes down to his knees, and the leggings are baggy around his legs, only held up by the elastic waistband. He looks even stupider pulling the academy shorts over them, the only piece of his uniform that doesn’t smell or feel like something died in them.

It’s comfortable.

Fuck.

Klaus immediately zeroes in on him as soon as he leaves the bathroom, pushing a plastic cup of cheap microwave noodles into his hands. The synthetic chicken smell makes his stomach flip. “Five! I think we should probably talk about what happened.” He claps, looking at Five expectantly. This, unfortunately, attracts the attention of the rest of his brain-dead siblings who can’t seem to get the memo that he wants to be left alone. Five can practically feel the weight of their concerned gazes on him.

“You look like shit, Five.” Diego comments between bites. “What’d you want to talk about anyway, Klaus?”

“It’s about-”

“-nothing.” Five cuts in with a sharp glare. “It’s about nothing. Klaus just needs to mind his own damn business.”

“Five,” Vanya says reproachfully.

“I’m not apologizing,” He says shortly, ignoring the feeling of bile burning the back of his throat. Five doesn’t bother jumping to the armchair - he’s too tired, having burnt up all his energy to stop the apocalypse two times over, and now he has to burn whatever scraps he can find to figure out a way to get them out of this mess. He places the cup noodles onto the floor, grabs the cheap notebook and pen lying on the chair, and tries to start on his equations.

The keyword being tries.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Five?” Luther asks.

“Not hungry.” He bites out. Allison raises an eyebrow.

“Have you been eating?” She asks, pointing a fork at him. “I think all I’ve seen you drink is coffee.”

“He had a pot of coffee when we went to a diner back in Dallas.” Vanya offers up. He shoots her a glare. She doesn’t flinch, staring back cooly.

Huh. Look who grew a backbone. Five would be proud of her if her newfound confidence wasn’t getting in his way.

“I ate other things too.” His headache is getting worse. Maybe he’ll just take some aspirin now.

“Just eat your food, bro.”

“And I said I wasn’t hungry,” Five snaps, slamming the notebook down onto his lap. “I’m fifty-eight fucking years old, Diego. If I wanted a bunch of children half my age to baby me, I would have gone to a fucking daycare.”

Before anyone can say anything - though he can see Diego gearing up for a fight - Five grabs his things and jumps. He ignores the way he stumbles, the way his throat burns, or the way the itching spreads. He doesn’t have time for this. Right now, he needs to work.

There’s probably a closet or something around here that he can work in.

---

It was hot in the apocalypse.

In the first few days, when the bodies were still fresh and unburied and there was smoke and fire everywhere, the temperature never dropped. Even at night, the sweltering heat never eased up, keeping him in a choke hold. It was even hotter where the bodies of his siblings were. Dolores had told him not to sleep at their half-built graves.

It’s too warm, Five. You’ll burn up. She had been kind and gentle about it. It was more than he deserved. You can come back, but you can’t stay.

Five stopped listening to her and continued building.

He got heatstroke two days later.

In his dehydrated, fevered state, he clung to the sun-warmed bodies of his siblings, convinced that they were still alive. His heat-induced hallucinations would talk to him, begging him to help them. If it hadn’t been for a weak thunderstorm passing overhead, Five would have died there with his siblings, lying in a half-dried puddle of his own sick and piss.

He’s reminded of those times now.

Distantly, he can hear a lock click.

He bursts.

“Everything’s wrong, I don’t know, I never know, it just hurts so much,” The words leave his mouth unbidden, every secret he has ready to spill out into the open at a moment’s notice. “It always hurts, but I guess watching your family die, it’s- it’s always painful, and you look so much nicer alive-”

“Five? Klaus, w-why is he acting like this?”

“Klaus is there too? I never gave him his twenty bucks. I never came back for you either, I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to leave you, I swear, I love you all so much, I-” The world moves, colors blurring together. Next thing Five knows, he is being laid out on something soft.

When it refocuses, Five is staring at the worried faces of his siblings. “I don’t know why you care so much,” His mouth is still moving, and if he were a bit more coherent, he would have been mortified at what was coming out. “I left and even though I tried to get back, I never got back in time, I never get back in time, something always happens-”

“Did he finally lose it?”

“Maybe I did.” Don’t say it. “I spent so long in the apocalypse, I’m-” Don’t say it. “-sure I went insane, I, I thought-” DON’T. SAY. IT. “-about killing myself sometimes, but I didn’t try, I didn’t, I swear, Dolores would-” Something jams itself between his teeth. The taste of wet metal and vomit fills his mouth, and Five only realizes that it’s his forearm when the sharp sting of pain sets in.

His neck itches.

“Hey,” Klaus laughs, voice pitching high with hysteria. “What the fuck?” All of his siblings are staring at him, a little shell-shocked at the sudden confession.

“Ish the needul,” He blurts out, desperate to take the attention off that confession, half-muffled by his forearm. “Dad, he got’h me wiff ah needul.” The heat has died down some, after blurting out so much, but it’s still there.

“I’m sorry, Dad got you with a what?” Much to his chagrin, Diego pries his bloody arm from his teeth. Vanya passes him a roll of bandages. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Why can’t you let us help you instead of going off on your own all the time, Five!?”

“Because-” it was only a little, I could handle it, I’m not a kid “-I don’t want you to die again. I don’t want to see you die again. I’m always the last one left, and I’m going to be the last one left because I’m stuck in this stupid thirteen-year-old body, it’s why I hate it so much, though the patronization obviously doesn’t help much since I’m supposed to be 58, but all my wrinkles and white hair and sunspots are gone, and if they’re gone, was I ever really in the apocalypse at all? If a tree falls in the forest with no one around, does it still happen? Sometimes I wish-”

Fuck it. Five might as well put it all out on the table. He’s in no shape to teleport out, and his mouth isn’t going to be stopping anytime soon.

“I wish the bullet holes stayed when I rewound time, because these bruises hurt and maybe I’m the problem, and you were all so happy in the 1960s-”

A soft, calloused hand covers his mouth. “This is an invasion of privacy,” Vanya says quietly. Five can’t see their faces - doesn’t want to see their faces - but the silence says everything.

“H-He said he was hurt,” Diego says, bandages still in hand. “We need to... can you take off his shirt? He’s probably got something hidden under there.”

“Five, do you want me to move my hand?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He blurts out the minute Vanya moves her hand slightly to start taking off his shirt and check his injuries. “I don’t understand, I’ve done so many bad things, I ran away and left you to get beaten by Dad, I stranded us in the 1960s, I’ve killed so many people, I killed the board of directors, and it didn’t even get us home in the end because I was so fucking stupid to think the Handler wouldn’t go back on her deal, she always does! I know this-” His shirt is tugged over his head, effectively muting him.

Five resists the urge to cover himself as his bare chest is exposed. The audible gasps of his siblings don’t help whatsoever.

“Five,” Diego takes mercy on him, opening up the first aid kit Allison handed him. “There’s a lot to unpack here, and I know I’m still not entirely sure what’s going on with you, but here’s what’s going to happen.”

“I-”

“Vanya,” Her hand clamps down on his mouth. “We’re not going to force you to say anything else. This is- This isn’t something- what you’ve said. I’m sure there are things you really didn’t want to tell us. That doesn’t mean there aren’t things we won’t address, but not when you’re like this.” Diego’s fingers run through his hair soothingly.

“But why?” Five nearly sobs around Vanya’s palm, and maybe he is sobbing at this point. Everything feels far away and painful at this point, but he fights through it to focus on Diego.

“Because we love you, dumbass,” Diego lightly raps his knuckles on Five’s sweaty forehead. “You’re still apart of this family. Sure you’ve missed out on some stuff, but so have we. It’s a two-way street.”

“We’re here for you,” Vanya hums, Allison sitting down next to her with a smile on her face and a glass of water in hand.

“Yup. Time to shut the fuck up, Five-y.” Klaus grins at him. Luther, who had been standing a little ways away, comes over to wipe at his sweat and tears with a napkin.

“Is it okay if I give you a hug?” He sounds a little teary himself. Five doesn’t trust his mouth not to run away from him, and he nods. At this point, he’s too emotionally and physically exhausted to keep up any pretenses.

Everyone crowds on the shitty motel bed that’s way too small to support the weight of six people to join in on the hug, but Five finds that he can’t seem to care.

He clings to the first hug he’s gotten in forty-five years and doesn’t let go.

#tua #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #diego hargreeves #my writing #its truth serum bby #i love those fics so much #not at all medically accurate but #spilling the beans to your loved ones about all the horrifying shit youve done for them?#amazing #nothing but the truth #my fanfiction

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atths--twice · 5 years ago

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After the Credits

Hello there! Today is the 20th anniversary of Hollywood A.D. and I thought I would post my fic set directly after that episode. I’ve posted it before, but with a link to it and not HERE. I was new to Tumblr and didn’t know how to do much. I’m still learning, but I know a bit more now and thought I would reshare it here.

When I first started to write fanfic, I wanted to change the ending of My Struggle IV. I wanted to do it for ME, but others showed interest when I would make comments regarding what I was thinking, so I started writing it in earnest. It quickly moved to many stories and THAT particular story was posted months later, with many stories in between.

But this story... this is my baby. I actually posted it near the end of April in 2018 so it’s the anniversary of the story as well. I love this story. It’s fun, funny, lightly angsty, happy, cute, sweet, and sexy--VERY sexy. I’ve written over 100 stories and this one still remains the number one read story. I love that so much as I had an absolute blast working on it. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter One The Limo Ride

Mulder and Scully spend the night after Hollywood A.D. putting Skinner’s credit card to good use. Fun times and hijinks ensue. Also, sex! Delicious wonderful sex!

They walk off the film set, hand in hand. Both still giggling over the absurdity of the film based so loosely on their lives. What a joke it has become.

Mulder opens the door that leads them into the main studio lot. He holds the door as Scully passes, letting go of her hand, placing it on her lower back. The lot is busy with people hurrying to different sets. For a second, Mulder loses sight of Scully as a large group of people descend upon them. Dear god, it is a wall of muscly men, very scantily dressed, coming straight at him. Mulder stops walking and waits for them to pass. He has to close his eyes as too much muscled men skin bumps him on all sides.

Scully turns when she notices Mulder is not at her side. She looks back trying to find him in the crowd of people. She sees him attempting to make himself physically smaller as the throng of half naked men squish past him. She feels a giggle bubbling up as she sees his eyes close, most likely holding his breath, wishing they would hurry. She starts walking back toward him.

He opens his eyes and comes face to face with more flesh. This time of the female variety. About thirty exotically dressed women are hurrying past him. They all smile as they pass and a few even touch his arms or even his chest. He cannot help the goofy smile that comes onto his face. As they pass, he turns and watches them go. They look back at him, giggling and waving. He looks his fill and then turns around, face to face with an eyebrow quirked and arms crossed Scully.

“Coooo!” he exclaims as he stops himself short from plowing into her. “Jesus, Scully! You scared me.”

“Hmm,” she says with a tilt of her head. “Yeah Mulder, I saw that you were a bit.. distracted. You see something that catch your eye?”

“Me? What are you talk? I was simply waiting for the onslaught of half naked men to pass by,” Mulder says, his face the picture of innocence.

“Uh huh,” she says, rolling her tongue against her cheeks. “But the uh.. “onslaught” of half naked women was no trouble?”

“Scully, I am certainly not blind to the beauty of a woman’s body. Especially when presented in such.. minimal packaging.” Mulder says as he slides his hands into his pants pockets, a sheepish look on his face.

She stares at him, eyebrow firmly in place.

He looks in her eyes. Then down to her lips as he licks his own. Then he leans forward and whispers in her ear, “However, it leaves not much to the imagination. It is so much more titillating wondering what could be under.. say.. a business suit..or even a little black dress... and then getting to use your hands, lips, and tongue to find out.”

He straightens up and takes a step forward. He hears her quick gasp of breath. He did not have to see her eyes to know they were dark with desire. He has been witness to it often enough recently to recognize it. He has seen it when he kissed her into a daze, when she has trailed her hand down his arm as they left the office- the silent invitation to come over. When he has made an innuendo and she can no longer simply ignore him. And his most favorite, when she looks up at him as he slides his cock into her. Every time her eyes are pools of desire from which he never wants to escape. He would gladly drown in them, if it means he could stay physically connected to her forever.

She is still standing there, arms crossed, but trying to control her racing heart and breathing. God, he sets her pulse racing so easily. Truth be told, he always could. But now.. now his whispers and closeness are not pushed away and called up later in her fantasies. Now his whispers fill her ears as he trails his fingers down her naked skin. As he squeezes her fingers when they leave work -telling her he will be over later. When he stands so close she can smell him, when he brushes against her and it is as if an electric current passes through them. Imagination no longer is needed because she knows how the crook of his neck smells and tastes. The way his body feels on every inch of hers. She shivers and turns around.

He has taken a few steps past her but has paused waiting for her to catch up. He is not looking at her, but he has his arm crooked out, knowing she will slip her arm through and join him. He waits and then feels her by his side. She surprises him and slides her hand down his arm and then laces her fingers with his, in his packet.

It makes him jump in surprise. This is different, they have never done this before. It feels so incredibly intimate. Considering the amount of time they have recently spent naked and sated, this small act should not make his heart pound in his ears. Her small hand in his though, touching his thigh, so close to his groin.. god, he feels his cock start to stir. If she moved her fingers just a little, she might find a surprise.

He pulls their hands out of his pocket and clears his throat, but keeps their fingers locked together. “So.. uh..” he says as he licks his suddenly very dry lips. “That uh.. credit card.. what did you uh.. have in mind?”

He glances down at her and sees laughter in her eyes. Jesus, she is so beautiful. She is so happy tonight; her eyes are shining enough to light up a city.

“Well,” she begins, her voice sounding like it did back in the studio lot; reminding him they were still young and alive. “What do you think about getting some food? That food at the cast party was a little too.. frou-frou for me. And, such small portions- such a waste of time. How about we grab a bite and maybe head to the beach?”

She suddenly grabs his hand with both of hers and squishes close to him as more people rush past them. He feels her body press against him, her breast against his arm. Any thoughts he may have had, go right out of his head. All he wants to do is fuck her senseless. Food? He could take it or leave it. The beach? He did not care if he ever saw it again.

If he is honest, all he really wants to do is go back to the hotel and spend the next twenty four hours with her-naked. They could order some room service, that was food, right? Christ, he has spent seven years not being naked with her and he wants to make up for lost time.

“Scully, you know, they have this amazing invention called room service. We could order in, maybe watch a movie.. whatever.” He says nonchalantly, as if his only thought is not getting her out of her dress, seeing which panty set she had on tonight, taking it off and making her come on his tongue.

They reach the street where the limos sit waiting. Scully feels so happy and carefree, she needs to do something. As much as she enjoys sex with Mulder, and oh god.. does she ever, she wants more than that tonight. She knows if they go to the hotel, they will end up in bed, no food, until they were both satisfied by each other’s bodies. God.. it makes her wet to think about it, and she almost relents. But, she wants to do something fun with Mulder that did not involve being naked. Spend some time in the California ocean air.

She takes her hand from his in case someone from the film is out here and is watching. Turning to him, she looks up at him and motions for him to lean down. She stands on tiptoes at the same time and whispers in his ear.

“Mulder, I want to get some food, take a walk on the beach. Do something fun with this credit card from Skinner. A non-work activity that we can remember and enjoy. But Mulder,” she puts her hands on his chest and trails them down to his waistband. “rest assured, you will definitely be coming inside me tonight. Hopefully, many times. And I am looking forward to coming on your tongue. You know how I enjoy that every time you do it. How wet you make me.”

Mulder is breathing like a man who has just finished a marathon. As she steps back, she gives him a sultry smile and waves to the limo driver. He grabs her waist and puts his mouth against her ear.

“Fucking hell, Scully..” he rasps hoarsely. “You don’t play fair. I don’t get to see how your body is responding, but mine is on full display. You’re going to pay for this later.”

Now it is her turn to breathe hard as she feels her core throb. She feels herself get even wetter. She knows how much the dirty talk turns him on, just as it does to her. God, they have been mind fucking each other for years, no wonder they both get off simply from the other speaking. She had actually come just from Mulder talking to her the first time they had sex. He had not touched her. Just told her what he wanted to do, how he would do it, and how amazing it would feel when he did. After she had had a mind blowing orgasm, he had made good on all he had promised. Slowly and with immense care.

He begins to straighten up and attempts to conceal his arousal, just as the limo reaches them, she whispers back to him, “You can’t see it, it’s true, but just know that I am positively drenched. It’s a good thing I decided to wear panties..”

The limo driver stands there and clears his throat. Scully turns toward him with a million dollar smile. Mulder feels his knees actually go weak and he turns his back to the both of them. He is painfully hard and knows it is going to be difficult to hide. He takes off his jacket, commenting on the heat. He keeps his jacket in front of his crotch as he hears Scully and the driver discussing places to eat.

“Mulder,” she calls in a voice as sweet as honey. As if she had not just told him she wanted him coming inside her later. That she wants to come on his tongue. God, she is a vixen. “What do you feel like eating?” Her eyes are dancing with mirth. She knows exactly what she was doing to him. He stares daggers at her.

She is trying so hard not to laugh. She knows exactly where his mind has gone with that question. She smiles so happily at him, he smiles back. “Whatever you want is fine with me, Scully,” he says. He really does not care. If she is happy, then so is he.

After some discussion with the driver, they decide on a Mexican place that boasts serving the best guacamole. Bonus, it is close to the beach.

Scully climbs in the car and slides across the seat. Mulder slides in after her. He keeps his jacket on his lap, still keeping himself covered. As they began to drive away, she kicks off her shoes and he reaches up and unties his tuxedo tie. This one is worse than the every day ties he has to wear. He pulls the tie out of his collar and puts it in his pocket. He undoes the first few buttons on his shirt, then rests his head on the back of the seat, turning toward Scully.

She has been watching him. He looks so handsome in his suit, but watching him loosen himself from the confines of it, is sexy as hell. She recalls all the late nights, on so many cases, when he would sit across from her with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. She sees him smirk. She knows he knows where her mind has gone.

Two weeks ago, they barely made it further than her entryway, before they were on the floor engaging in fast, frantic sex. They had been on a case, a tough one. They had agreed to no physical activities while working. God, but it was difficult. This was still so new, it was hard to keep their hands off each other.

He had walked her upstairs after catching all the flirty sexy eyes she was throwing his way. After they had walked in, she pushed him into the door and shoved her tongue in his mouth. Clothes had been ripped off, bodies caressed, completion achieved.

After, she held him close, still joined, on the hard floor, uncaring and unwilling to have him move. She stroked her nails up his back and in his hair. Mulder had been surprised by her eagerness, but incredibly pleased. He murmured so to her as he lay on top of her, trying to catch his breath. She had given a low chuckle and told him it had been how he was dressed. His sleeves rolled up, his tie hanging down. All these years how sexy she found him when he had sat there with her, dressed in the same way. How she had had to stop herself so many times from climbing in his lap and fucking him senseless. Now though, she had said with a thrust of her hips, feeling him stir inside her, now she could do something about it.

She breaks from her memory as she hears Mulder asking the driver a question, never taking his eyes off hers. “So, about twenty minutes?”

“Give or take,” the driver replies

“It’s been kind of a long night. Hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to close the partition so we can rest a little,” Mulder says, his eyes burning a fire into hers. He did not wait for an answer, just put the partition up.

“Mulder,” Scully starts to say, but is cut off by his mouth on hers.

He kisses her slowly, savoring the feel of her lips. He licks across her lips and pushes his tongue inside. He buries his hand in her hair as she shifts to climb onto his lap. She straddles him as their kiss deepens. He holds onto her hip and keeps one hand in her hair, anchoring her to him.

God, she loves kissing him. She has spent so long glancing at those full lips, wondering how they would feel on her mouth and her body. Now she has access to them any time. He is an amazing kisser, making her knees weak and body tingle.

He breaks away, catching his breath. Then he begins kissing her jaw, her neck, sucking her earlobe.

“Mulder,” she murmurs as she rocks her hips against him. “You need to move your coat.”

His head snaps back and he looks at her in surprise.

“What?” she asks looking innocent and sinful at the same time. “Did you think you could kiss me like that and I wouldn’t want more?”

“Thought about it, but didn’t expect it,” he says as he brings his hand to her inner thigh. His thumb stroking small circles, setting her skin on fire. His hand starts to creep up. Jesus Christ, he can feel her heat already. He pushes her dress up and his thumb brushes across her panties. God, she was not lying, they are drenched.

She gasps when he touches her and throws her head back. He rubs his thumb across again and she whimpers. His other hand reaches for the zipper of her dress.

“Mulder,” she says grabbing his hand from her zipper and bringing it to her breast instead. “We don’t have time for that. Fast, hard. I want you inside me. Move your coat. Get your pants open.”

She climbs off him and stands bent over enough to work her panties off. He watches her with lust in his eyes, but does not move. Goddamn, she is truly the sexiest woman he has ever seen.

She holds her panties in her hand and looks at him. She raises her eyebrows and looks down at his lap. He grabs his coat and tosses it without a care. He starts to struggle with his button and zipper, never taking his eyes off her. Standing there with her panties in her hand, knowing how wet she was, makes him incredibly hard.

He finally gets his pants open. He raises up enough to pull them down over his hips, taking his boxers with him. His cock springs out and he grabs a hold of it, stroking. She bites her lip as she watches him touch himself. It is so hot, watching him do that.

She had urged him to let her watch him one night. Watch how he liked to touch himself so she could learn what he enjoyed. Just before he had come, she had taken him in her mouth and swallowed every drop. Their love making that night had been hot and dirty. They said filthy things to each other and tried many different positions and places in her apartment. Scully had lost track of how many times she had come. It had felt like she had a nonstop orgasm. Never had anyone made her feel so wild and carnal as he did. He knew exactly how to touch her, to make her scream, make her wet, make her come. It was like he had a guidebook to her erogenous zones. Even from the very first time, he played her body like a well tuned instrument.

She steps toward him and straddles him again, her knees on the leather seat. She pulls her dress up to her waist, still holding her panties in one hand. Mulder looks down at her body as he continues to stroke his cock. He can see her pussy glistening with her juices and his cock throbs.

She puts her hands on his shoulders and lifts up higher and closer to him. He looks back up at her as he runs the head of his cock across her slit.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” she breathes out, staring down at him. “Jesus, Mulder. Oh my god...”

He pushes the head in as she starts to sink down. They both hiss at the contact. She is so wet, he slides to the hilt with one thrust. She sits flush against him as they try to control their breathing.

She wraps her arms around his neck and places her mouth on his ear. “We have about ten-fifteen minutes before this car stops and we need to be presentable. Think you can make me come in about seven minutes, Agent Mulder?” She raises off his hard cock, her pussy slick and tight around him.

“No, Agent Scully,” he says as he slams her back down. “I think I can make you come in five.”

With speed and agility she did not anticipate, she finds herself on her back on the floor with Mulder still deep inside her. He begins to pound into her, her legs wrapped around his hips. He bends down and sticks his tongue in her mouth. He knows that she likes that. She had told him, the feel of his tongue in her mouth while his cock was inside her, made her feel like she was being fucked at both ends. She called him, after he had left one night, and told him how she had taken out her vibrator and fucked herself with it while thinking of his cock and tongue. He had stroked himself to an orgasm as she told him how it had felt.

He strokes his tongue in and out as he did his cock. He feels her tighten her legs around him and her internal muscles grip him. He knows it will not be long for either of them.

Scully reaches under his shirt and scratches her nails down his back, landing on his ass and pulling him close. She can feel her orgasm coming on. Christ, it does not take much. With other lovers, she had needed more.. everything. But with Mulder.. Jesus.. she seems on the cusp all the time. Seven years was a long time to deny physical needs, true, but it was more than that. They were connected in so many ways, that sex just added to it. Made it better. God.. so much better.

“Three minutes, Mulder,” she says as she pulls her mouth from his. “I’m close... so close. Talk to me.. I need to hear your voice.”

“Mmm Scully, three minutes is more than enough time. I’m close too. God, you feel so good, Scully. Every time.. so good. Do you need..” he trails off as he brings his hand to her clit. He starts to rub and she stops him.

“I.. no.. just.. just..harder.. faster. Talk to me. Your voice makes me come. Your voice..”

He swells inside her as he starts pounding faster and harder. He moves his hands down and cradles her head. He leans close to her ear. “Scully.. god.. I am so close. Oh.. god.. do that again.. yeah.. do you feel how hard I am? How hard you make me? Oh Scully.. you just got so wet. I felt it.. come on Scully.. come for me. One minute Scully. Come Scully.. come..,” he nips just below her ear as his thrusts became faster and sloppier.

Scully scrapes her nails up his back and digs them in his shoulder blades. She cries out as his words bring her over the edge. She feels herself coming and him right behind. He keeps thrusting as he empties himself inside of her. He kisses her again as he feels her pulsing and releasing around him. She is humming against his lips, her body thrumming. God, he is so good at this. So good. A couple more thrusts and they are still.

Mulder raises his head and looks at her. Her eyes are closed and she has a happy smile on her face.

“Time’s up, Scully,” he says with a smile of his own.

She opens her eyes and chuckles. “Five minutes on the dot, Mulder. You’re good.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at her as he begins to pull back and then out of her. On his knees, he looks around and finds some linen napkins. He wipes himself off and then pulls his boxers and pants back up, but does not button them. He then turns and uses the napkin to gently wipe up Scully. He reaches up and takes her panties out of her hand and moves to her feet to slide them back up her legs. They are still damp, but better than nothing.

“Up,” he says as he got them to her hips. She lifts her hips and he slides them into place. He pulls her up and pulls her dress back down. She feels weightless and blissful. She reaches over and starts tucking Mulder’s shirt back into his pants.

“I can do that,” he says, as he moves her hands away. She turns and grabs her shoes as she sits down. She slides them on as she watches him tuck his shirt in and button his pants. He puts the napkin he used on them in his pocket, planning to throw it out when he found a trash can. He looks at her and they both grin. She smoothes her hair and starts to take out her headband.

“Leave it,” he says, reaching for her arm to stop her from removing it. “You look so adorable with it on.”

She smiles again and leaves it in place. He picks his jacket up and puts it back on, no longer needing to hide his erection.

She rolls the window down, telling him to do the same. “It’s stuffy.. and it smells like sex in here,” she says as he gives her a questioning look. He nods his head, smiling, obliging her as he sits next to her. She reaches over and locks their fingers together.

“Thank you,” she says in a low voice. “That’s one..”

“One?” he asks her, confused as he rubs his thumb across the inside of her palm.

“Of many,” she says nodding, watching his thumb.

He looks at her with a frown, not understanding her meaning. The limo is beginning to slow down and he turns toward the window. She tugs on his hand, silently asking him to look at her. “I told you earlier..” she leans close, kisses his cheek, and whispers in his ear. “You will hopefully be coming inside me many times tonight... so.. that’s one..”

She sits back, smiling sweetly, keeping her eyes on him, as the limo stops completely. He leans in and kisses her softly. “In that case, I promise it’s not the last of the night.”

The door opens and he pulls back from her, reaching for her hand to step out of the car.

#Hollywood A.D.#sexy times #limo sex #happy #new relationship #discovering things about one another #putting that bureau credit card to good use #not exactly what Skinner had in mind

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shadedrose01 · 5 years ago

Text

Maybe There's a Reason (To Believe You'll Be Okay)

Relationships: Harley Keener & Tony Stark (platonic), Harley Keener/Peter Parker (at the end)

Summary: Harley has a crisis, and Tony helps him through it (with a hint of parkner at the end).

Tags: Remix, Parkner Remix Event, Even though its barely parkner whoops, Emails, Letters, Phone Calls & Telephones, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Sexual Identity, Identity Issues, Coming Out, Kinda?, Sexuality, Gay Harley Keener, Crushes, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Acceptance, Self-Acceptance, Love, Parental Love, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, tony stark is a dad, why is that not a tag, Parkner is only at the end, for like a paragraph, Just so yall know :)

For the Parkner Discord Remix Event!!

A remix of @official-impravidus ' fic "Sincerely, Me" (which you can read here!)

This is longer, so ao3 link is here!

Hope you all enjoy! Love you lexie!!

Wednesday, May 8, 2013, 1:24PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Relationships and Mark V

I don't understand dating. Like, my friend Bryan started dating Rachel today, and that's fine, whatever, but I just don't get it. All they did was hold hands and kiss each other all day. Is that all a relationship is? What even is the point of it? I mean, I know humans are animals and our instincts give us our need to reproduce so we need to find a viable mate and all that stuff, but why do you need to always be together, and hold hands, and do all of that gross stuff too?

Either way, I finally got around to building a mark V for my potato gun! It's just a few upgrades up from the mark IV, for faster shots and farther range, but I think it'll be cool once it's done.

I hope your day is going okay.

-Harley

~~~

Wednesday, May 8, 2013, 10:43PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Relationships and Mark V

Relationships are complex, and complicated. Humans are born to reproduce, yes, but dating, and finding a partner is more than that. It's finding someone you're compatible with, who can be there at your best and at your worst, and a bunch of other deep seeded emotions that are hard to explain.

You don't need to worry about that now, though. You'll understand more when you're older, anyways, so I wouldn't worry about it.

My day has been good. More of a lazy day today, Pepper and I ordered some take out and watched movies in our pjs. I didn't have my phone on me per Peppers request, or I would have answered sooner.

As for the Mark V, the updates sound good. Keep me posted, kid.

-The Mechanic

~~~

Monday, September 8, 2014, 4:57PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Middle School!!

I started middle school today!! And honestly? It wasn't as exciting as I thought it was gonna be. I knew that movies and tv shows oversell the wow factor of middle school and high school but I didn't think it'd be this dull. I'm still in the same class, with all the same classmates, and my classes are still crazy easy. I had hoped that the increase in grade would make it even a little bit harder, but I knew everything on the outline they gave out before the teachers even started teaching!! It's bonkers!

Apparently this middle school also has a STEM, or "gifted" kid program for kids like me though, so hopefully that'll be harder. I'm still gonna be so bored in my normal classes though. Ugh.

I have the STEM classes tomorrow, so I'll tell you how it goes. I know you've been stuck in those awful meetings lately, but I hope your day is going better than mine.

-Harley

~~~

Tuesday, September 9, 2014, 5:04PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: STEM Program

I had my STEM class day today, and it went a lot better than yesterday did! My teachers are all super nice, especially my math teacher, Mr. Trevor. He immediately starting teaching today, which was awesome, because all of my other normal teachers had a Ice Breaker class first (which I hate, we all already know each other, why do we have to say our names and something about ourselves??), but he just went right into it, and started teaching us trigonometry. I haven't learned any of it before, and I'm super excited to dig into it and find out how it works. It's seeming pretty simple so far, just formulas and using calculators right.

The only bummer is the class I got put with. They all seemed to click and get along well together, but none of them really talked to me much. I don't mind though. I'm more focused on my education anyways.

Also! I saw that Captain America and Black Widow took down SHIELD's headquarters on the news. What was that about? Do you know?? Apparently they leaked files too or something???

I hope everything is okay.

-Harley

~~~

Friday, September 12, 2014, 10:27AM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: STEM Program

Hey kid. Sorry for the late response, things have been hectic here, as you probably know. It's been a PR nightmare, with the whole "Cap took SHIELD down" fiasco. I can't say more than that though. Legal things, NDAs, you know how it is.

I'm glad the STEM classes are testing your abilities more. I know the regular classes can be boring for someone of your intellect, but try to enjoy them while they last, okay? Soon you'll be an adult, and doing adult things, and trust me, it isn't as fun as they make it out to be in the movies either.

Don't worry about those kids too. Give it time, they'll come around.

-The Mechanic

~~~

Friday, September 26, 2014, 9:02PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Update?

Hi. Just emailed to give an update on me. Everything's been pretty normal, I guess. Abbie's loving elementary school, her teacher, Mrs. Millar, is really nice. I did my trig test today, and I think I did well. Mama's working late again tonight, but that's just normal at this point too.

Have you ever, I dunno. Felt like you were weird? Or strange, or broken? Like, all of your friends are one way, and doing some things, but you aren't, and everyone looks at you weird, and treats you differently?

I don't know. I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel off tonight. Think I'm going to go to bed early.

I'm sorry.

-Harley

~~~

Friday, September 26, 2014, 9:48PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Update?

You don't need to apologize, kid. You did nothing wrong.

I used to feel like that, quite frequently if I'm being honest. When I first went to MIT, I felt weird. I stuck out like a sore thumb, and had people talk about me behind my back because of how young I was. But then I met Rhodey, and things got better.

And then Afghanistan happened. And the invasion. Let me tell you kid, I've never felt more broken and alone after that. I had panic attacks, as you know, but I also struggled with a lot of paranoia. Lack of sleeping or eating properly, mixed with trauma does that to you. I was a wreck, and I was so certain I couldn't be fixed. That I'd be like that forever.

And to an extent, I will be. I'll always struggle with it, but it's much, much better now than it used to be. I went to therapy, talking about my feelings, which sucked ass (don't tell your mom I said that), and learned mechanisms to help myself. Learned breathing techniques, practiced meditation, focused more on self care, and now I'm doing so much better.

So, moral of this long, way too personal story. You aren't broken, kid. Whatever is going on, whether it's similar to me or not (I hope not), it'll be okay. You will be okay. Things will work out. And don't worry about what other people think. Focus on yourself, and do what makes you happy, no matter what.

I'm always here if you need to talk, Harley. I might not be much help, or be very good at this whole hormonal preteen emotions thing yet, but I can try.

I'm glad things are going okay outside of that though. I'm glad your sister's settling in well, and I'm sure you aced your test. You're a smart kid.

Goodnight.

-Tony

~~~

Tuesday, October 7th, 2014, 3:38PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Call

Hey, can we call? I know you're probably busy, and we don't normally do that but I'm kinda freaking out about something and I don't know who else to talk to. My number is (___) ___-____

-Harley

Tuesday, October 7th, 2014, 3:41PM

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Call

Nevermind, ignore that last email. I was being overdramatic, and stupid. I'm fine, everything is okay.

Sorry for bothering you.

-Harley

---

He didn't expect anything from the emails. He assumed the older man would've read his last email, and shrugged it off, pretending the previous didn't exist like Harley longed for him too. As he said, he was being dumb. It didn't matter that his heart was pounding, that his brain was screaming at him that he was a freak, and dirty, and so so so wrong , that he was shaking like a leaf and on the verge of tears. It didn't matter. It was stupid. It didn't matter.

He didn't expect that Tony would actually still call him.

He stares at his vibrating cell phone through teary eyes, blurry vision, the number unknown but he knows who it is, knows it because nobody else calls, because when his friends call, they call the home phone, not his phone, so who else could it be?

He blinks the tears out of his eyes, rubbing them away quickly when a few escape, swallowing down his fear and panic and self hatred as he scrambles to pick it up before the call ends (he doesn't think Tony would appreciate it very much if he let it ring to voicemail), stuttering out a shaky, higher pitched "H-Hello?"

"Hey, kid." Tony's voice, much lower and rougher than his, rings through the phone, and Harley braces for the questions, the interrogation he knows is coming, knows Tony's gonna ask him about it, about what's bothering him. Why, why did he email him? Now he's gonna have to tell him what's wrong, now he's gonna have to admit it, admit how wrong and messed up and broken he is- "How was your day?"

Harley jerks back slightly, mouth gaping and eyes wide, caught off guard by the unexpected tame question. "Huh?"

"How was your day?" The man repeats calmly, tone smooth, even, relaxed, like it's a normal conversation on a normal, boring day. Nothing like how Harley is feeling, nothing like the swarming thoughts in his mind, like the flood of emotions in his chest, like the churning in his stomach, the burning ache in his lungs.

"U-uhm," Damn his stutter, he had grown out of it years ago, why was it suddenly coming back now? "I-it was good." He lies, trying to keep his voice from wavering, trying to keep it steady, trying to stay composed as the tsunami of emotions tries to pull him under. "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Tony prods lightly, voice softening slightly, and Harley shakes his head in a nod, firm, even though Tony can't see it, even as tears start to burn at his eyes again, even his chest winds tighter and tighter and tighter .

"Mhm." He forces out, not trusting himself to speak anymore, his throat closing as his feelings start rising up his esophagus, a sob clawing its way up his throat, trying to escape.

There's a pause, then, a moment when everything freezes. A moment right before the iceberg tips, right before everything crashing and burning down around him, right before the beginning of the end. And then, time starts again, as the mechanic asks, quiet, hushed "What's going on, Harley?"

And Harley crumbles .

The sob rips from his throat, echoing loudly in the large emptiness of his garage, a trembling hand covering his mouth as soon as he does. But the floodgates have already opened, tears are streaming full force down his face, his body shuttering through shaky gasps and shattered sobs. "I-I-Im sorry ," He chokes out as he sits down heavily in his old, pachy wheely chair, curling into himself as his body shutters again. He rubs his eye with the hand on his face, sniffling and coughing through a whimpered, "I-I know you're- you're probably b-busy, you- you don't h-have to-"

"I have nowhere else to be." Tony murmurs simply, cutting off Harley's poor attempt at waving him off, at delaying the inevitable for any longer. Harley lets out a small whine as the older man speaks up again, soft, soothing, repeating gently, "What's going on, kid?"

"I-I dont-" He hiccups, running a hand through his shaggy, too long blond curls, tugging slightly as his knee bounces rapidly. "M-My friends, or my classmates, they- lately, they've been, I don't know, they've been talking- talking more about crushes and girls and stuff." Harley sniffles, tugging his hair harder as his vision starts to blur again, the words tumbling out of his mouth now. "And- and I never really c-cared about it, you know? I never really- really unders-stood it, didn't see the appeal, s-so I didnt m-mind it. But they- they just keep talking about it, and getting g-girlfriends, and-and talking about their bodies and I didnt get the- the i-interest, so I thought maybe something was wrong with me-"

"There isn't." Tony chips in, but Harley just runs right over him, keeps blabbering. He knows it's rude, knows his mama taught him better, but he can't seem to stop talking now that he started, his words getting more and more wobbly, panicked the longer he goes.

"But there is , there is something wrong with me, I- I know there is now, be-because when I-I went to school today, the- the past few days really, I started- started noticing that I started f-feeling weird, and- and it sounds- sounds similar to how the- the others say they feel, but it doesn't make sense , it can't be that, I dont- I cant-" Harley's breath catches, and he grinds his teeth together, refuses to speak another word, refuses to accept it, refuses to admit the god awful truth, refuses to utter the words. Because it can't be right, it can't be true, it can't be-

They sit in silence for a few moments, when he assumes Tony thought he would continue speaking but he wont, he refuses , until the softer, calmer voice returns, slightly staticky through the speaker, but barely more than a whisper, as if he spoke any louder, Harley would shatter. He probably would. "So, if I'm understanding correctly, you think you have a crush, and you're... scared?"

He doesn't sound patronizing, just honest, if a bit curious, but it doesn't help calm Harley any, a higher pitched, frustrated noise escaping the back of his throat, his free hand going out of his hair going back to rubbing at his face, rubbing off the tracks of tears, trying to rub away any sign of upset, until his skin is red and raw. "No, I-I mean, kinda- its not- I can't- god , this is so stupid."

"Its not stupid. I get it." The man responds, and Harley wants to laugh, feels the bitter feeling bubbling in his chest, because does he? How can he get this? Harley doesn't even get this, it doesn't- he shouldn't- "What's her name?"

The sound erupts out of him at that, but instead of laughter like he thought it would be, it's just another pitiful whine, another loud, agonizing sob. Because that's the thing, the thing that's been haunting him ever since he figured it out earlier that day, the issue that's been plaguing his mind and freaking him out, winding him up more and more and more as the day went on until he got home and sent those messages.

Because- because when he thinks back to earlier that day, he thinks of lunchtime, of sitting at his lunch table with his "friends", of them talking and laughing, of Harley feeling those weird feelings again, especially when he looked across from him, and saw big, forest green eyes, saw a big, toothy grin, saw two small dimples and scattered freckles, saw short, short black hair, saw a sharper, thinner jaw, saw male male male, felt butterflies flutter, and realized he was wrong, wrong, wrong .

Because- "It's not a girl." His voice is small, defeated, barely a whisper, his whole body tensed up in fear, waiting, waiting for his reaction.

There's a pause, before a faint, quiet, sympathetic, "Oh, kid." That Harley immediately the wrong way, because he hates him, oh god he hates him-

"I'm sorry!" He gasps, jerking upright, sitting ramrod straight and the apologies spilling from his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didnt- I dont mean to, and I-I know its wrong, and I shouldn't, and I-I know I'm weird and- and a freak , and-"

"Hey, hey, woah!" Tony's voice is louder now, stronger, and Harley hushes up immediately, his mouth slamming shut, even as his body trembles with a silent sob. "It's okay, kid. You aren't any of that."

"But- but I am!" Harley whimpers. "I'm w-weird, and everyone else isn't like this , and-"

"Am I a freak?" Again, the random question sends Harley for a loop, trying to grasp onto any of his quickly scattering thoughts.

"W-what?"

He can hear a faint smile, faint amusement in Tony's tone as he asks again, still so so calm, so reassured, "Am I a freak?"

Harley narrows his shining eyes, still full of tears, staring down at the wooden table in front of him, at the chips and nicks covering the side of it, wondering if this is a trick question. "N-No? Of- of course not, you're Iron Man."

He can hear some noise in the background of the call now, squeaking as if someone's leaning back in a chair, before Tony speaks up again, voice full of warm amusement now. "Well, Iron Man has had a few rendezvous with men in the past, and still likes them to this day. Does that make him, and therefore, me, a freak?" When Harley doesn't answer, mostly out of pure shock than anything else, Tony keeps going, tone going serious again. "Kid, I'm gonna get this out there right away. There is nothing wrong with you for liking boys, you hear me?"

He swallows, and wants to agree, longs to agree, but- "But- but my friends, they all like- like girls , and mama, she- she said that traditional marriage was what God wanted and-"

Harley cuts himself off this time, and Tony only waits a few beats before murmuring softly, "Is that what you think?"

He just shrugs, picking at the table, sniffling, whispering quietly, "I don't know what to think anymore."

There's a soft hum and another pause. "You're different, Harley. I'm not going to beat around the bush, you are different." Harley stomach drops. "But," Tony continues, "Kid, you've always been different. You're so smart, way too smart for your own good, if I'm being honest. And there's nothing wrong with that. People may try to bring you down, or kick you while you are down, but you've gotta remember that, okay? There is nothing wrong with you."

Harley waits a few moments, let's the words wash over him and wrap him in a blanket of warmth, of security and comfort, but there's still one little thing that keeps rearing its ugly head, that's still making him antsy. "But, what if I'm just- overreacting? And I don't actually... y-you know." He finishes lamely, still not ready to completely admit to everything yet.

Tony doesn't seem to mind. "Then that's okay too." He says simply, a bit of shuffling coming through the line. "Kid, how old are you again, like twelve?"

He can hear the teasing in his tone, and rolls his eyes as he huffs out, "Thirteen."

The older man chuckles for a second, before his voice goes back to calm, quiet. "Seriously though, you're thirteen , Kid. You don't need to have everything figured out right away." He snorts, then. "I sure didn't. I think I was a mess at your age, wasn't even thinking about relationships. At least, not long term." There's a pause. "Point is, you don't need to know right now. This might be a fluke, and you might end up liking only girls from here on out. You might end up just liking boys, liking both, or neither, who knows? But you've got time, kid, and that's the key. Give it time . And whatever it ends up being, whatever ends up happening..." His voice softens at the end, a smile prominent in his tone. "It'll be okay. You will be okay."

For the first time all day, Harley finally takes a deep breath. His shoulders finally relax, his body practically melting back into his chair, and a smile grows on his face, warmth blooming in his chest. "...thanks, Tony." He whispers, hoping that the amount of pure, unfiltered gratitude he's feeling can be heard in his tone.

He thinks it can, as there's a hint of embarrassment and awkwardness in Tony's voice as he responds with a simple, "Don't mention it, squirt."

Harley just chuckles at the sudden discomfort of the older man, before his eyes widen. "Oh! While you're here, did I tell you I passed my trig test?"

"Hey! I knew you would, kid, I had no doubt." Harley's grin widens, before he throws himself into another story, feeling warmer, safer, and happier than he has in a while.

A few years later, Tony was getting off of the elevator to his penthouse with a huff, having just gotten back from a rough meeting, when he freezes. His heart warma and a smile grows on his face when he notices Harley, now 17 years old (almost an adult, god he was so old ), curled up into Peter's chest, his face pushed into his neck, seemingly fast asleep. Peter's head rests on top of Harley's, eyes open but hooded, as if keeping them open was getting difficult. They glance over to Tony immediately, though (damn his spider sense and increased hearing), and a faint blush forms on his cheeks even as he smiles lightly, his eyes softening as he glances back down at his boyfriend and presses a firm kiss onto his head. Tony watches the interaction with a soft grin, before quietly stepping away, his chest full of mostly warm, sappy feelings, but also full of pride and joy, knowing his pseudo son is accepted, happy and loved.

#parkner #parkner remix event #harley keener/peter parker #remix #fanfiction remix #harley keener #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark is a good dad #tony stark is a dad to harley keener #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #parknerpalsremix

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keyblade-nocturne · 5 years ago

Text

I don’t know when I’m going to post the group of one-shots this is linked too. Since I’m doing the word prompts right now. But I really like this one section. It’s the only part I feel I’ve figured out fully.

I don’t have a name for these one shot’s I just know they’re all Demyx and Xemnas interactions. Which is probably a really strange concept to have a one-shot series about. I hope this snippet can convince you there is a story to tell and spoilers I plan to tell it.

Written from Xemnas’ POV so like yeah that’s new for me. Let me know if you think I wrote him OOC. Takes place in the early days of the org. Demyx is probably 15-16 here. Enjoy!

The Room Where Nothing Gathers empty’s slowly after the closing of the organization’s most recent meeting. They had just recently gained their 12th member and their goals seemed closer by the day. Xemnas is satisfied with how the meeting went. All members were now being sent off on more complicated missions. All except one, a certain nobody that had yet to leave the room.

“Is there an issue number IX?”

A quiet huff comes from the hooded figure sitting a few chairs down his arms crossed as he slouched in his chair. It was almost impressive how quickly Demyx had picked up the mimicry of human emotional reactions. If only those reactions weren’t constantly being used to avoid or get out of things the teen didn’t want to do. Vexen had theorized the quick adaptability came from his teenage form. Something about teenagers naturally being “overly emotional beings”. Such issues with VII and VIII had been dealt with in the early days of the organization and no. VI had grown up a Nobody. He never had the chance to form such emotional reactions.

Demyx finally pulls down his hood to talk face to face with Xemnas. He was hopefully ready to explain the issue so Xemnas could move on from this conversation.

“Why is everyone else getting fun missions while I’m stuck with the boring stuff?”

“We are Nobodies number IX we do not-“

“-Feel enjoyment from our missions. I know I know. Fine then why do they have the more desirable missions?”

Maybe this conversation wouldn’t be a waste of time. Demyx’s work ethic had always been lack luster and his bare bone reports left much to be desired. Vexen had tested him to confirm it had nothing to do with a lower education level. Demyx was just lazy. But if Xemnas found a mission that kept Demyx’s attention it would be more productive for everyone.

“What about their missions make them more desirable than yours?”

“Xaldin’s exploring like three different castles right now. Axel and Marluxia just got paired up for their first “clean up” mission. Luxord’s being sent on a long undercover mission as a pirate. A pirate! And I’m stuck going to the same 4 worlds to confirm that yes there are still heartless on them.”

“More difficult missions are given to members that have proven they can handle the responsibility. It is a waste of time and resources to send someone less skilled and then be forced to send another to actually finish the job. Do you understand?”

“Yeah I guess.”

Xemnas watches Demyx slouch farther into his chair. It looked like Xemnas’ explanation was getting through to the boy. Xemnas starts trying to think of a compromise. He would not send Demyx on a mission he was not prepared for. But it was also clear Demyx held potential that was not being used to its fullest. He needed a mission that would push him to try and become stronger.

“Hmm perhaps there is another way to utilize your talents.”

Demyx looks back up, “What really?” It’s clear he didn’t expect Xemnas to come up with a compromise.

“Indeed. No. IV and no. VI have been cataloging some new worlds. Without a Princess of Heart they are not of immediate interest to us, but knowledge of these worlds may be useful in the future.”

“New worlds? Okay! I can go check them out.” Demyx’s reaction confirmed a change of scenery was all he needed to keep his attention on a mission.

“Of course more detailed reports will be required if you are the only member we are sending to investigate these worlds.” Was it really this easy to get Demyx to focus on a mission and possibly write useful reports?

Demyx sighs but nods. “Yeah okay. I get why my reports of these places would be important.”

“Do you remember what will be expected on a report about a new world?”

“Important people, important places, important events/holidays, important rules, and what powerful heartless are there.”

“Correct. I will inform Zexion he is to give you the coordinates of the first new world for tomorrow’s mission. Today you are to complete the mission you have already been given. Fully.”

Demyx sighs and it’s clear he’s trying to not roll his eyes at his Superior. “Yeah yeah I’ll get it done.”

Demyx then does something unexpected he smiles at Xemnas and gets a small salute. “Thanks Superior.” Demyx finally portals out of the Room where Nothing Gathers missing Xemnas’ one raised eyebrow at the gesture.

So yeah this is the conversation that led to Demyx being sent on advanced recon missions. Later on I planned to reveal that the new worlds were worlds in kh3. Since the “Real” Org seemed to immediately know who was where and was just checking in or using the world for an experiment. They may have been new worlds to Sora but they couldn’t have been that new for the organization.

But seriously tell me how you think I did at writing Xemnas. He’s obviously different from my usual style and I’d like some tips if I missed anything obvious. I know some of ya’ll have written him before.

#demyx #xemnas #kingdom hearts #kh theory posts

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aharris00britney · 6 years ago

Photo

ASKS 12

spoookyyyy season, lmao I tried answering as many as I could but now I am going to be deleting the rest of my inbox so sorry if I didn’t get to answer you :( also WCIFs are on hiatus rn but you can find a lot of the stuff I use on my cc finds blog

Anonymous said: hey, have you ever thought about making a blackpink inspired hair?

Most of my hairs start off being K-Pop inspired and then don’t look like what I was trying to achieve, so if I tried making one it wouldn’t look right once I finished it haha, I have a hair based off Lisa though!

Anonymous said: are all of your hairs also male compatible? there's a guy sim i want to make who has shoulder length hair and one of yours would be great to use

I never check that since I make them for female sims, but if you change some tags in S4S you should be able to check the hair you want yourself :D

Anonymous said: would you be ok with people converting your hair?

Sure! I plan on converting some hairs eventually but if other people do it then I don’t mind at all. Just credit me obvi and link to the original post

Anonymous said: Hey, I love your CC (especially the hairs) and your sims are so beautiful! However, I noticed that so far you only uploaded your female sims (not that I’m complaining, they’re all gorgeous!) but I was just wondering if you could upload one or two male sims sometime? They look amazing too!

I actually have had my male model sim in my drafts since JANUARY ready to post, I just need to get his tray files haha. Will try to do it soon! Also ty

Anonymous said: Have you posted your female "model" for everything on the sims 4 gallery?

yeah they’re on the gallery! Aharris00britney is my origin ID

Anonymous said: hiya, i was wondering if you created your own hair textures or if you used ea's (or anyone else's textures)? thanks!

I use EA textures as bases and usually edit them somehow by combining different ones together when needed.

@ellebellsims said: Hello! Tysm for all the lovely hairs you provide for us! I end up using at least one of your hairs for every household in my game, haha. I had two quick questions.. the first, for someone that has limited abilities in making recolors (and never with hair before) how difficult is it to add an ombre accessory or recolor for one of your hairs? Also, how difficult would it be to convert for kids?

Recolors are really easy to do, there are tons of tutorials on YouTube that will help with that. Ombre accessories are a bit challenging but hopefully I can get a tutorial for those out one day. Converting to kids is really simple if you know Blender basics, you can use my converting to adults tutorial to get an idea of how a conversion would work.

Anonymous said: You had a obession with the flowers lmao

lmao, very true!

Anonymous said: wcif the ice cream in this post? /post/174729716466/icecreamedit

the ice cream was drawn in by @ayoshi-sims :( so it isn’t a real thing

@wholegrainsims said: hey there! i saw in your about that your favorite show is game of thrones! mine too! also your hair that’s coming out on 9/30 looks like a mm cersei hair & i’ve been dying for some mm got cc! looking forward to it!

omg true! I didn’t even think of Cersei while making it lmao, thank you for pointing that out to me :D

Anonymous said: O M G your selfie in the 57 facts tag was the most adorable thing ever. You're like insanely handsome?? I am shook???

Anonymous said: how does you feel being extremely beautiful?

@theforgottensimblr said: omg, just saw your post at the fire alarm and I just have to say that you are so cute. That's it, you're cute. Hope you're having a good day

Anonymous said: YOU ARE SO BOOTIFUL

Anonymous said: You are a very beautiful human being. I like your face and personality very much.❤️

haha thank you guys! I don’t find myself that attractive of a person so the compliments helps keep me from being super self conscious :P thank you again <3 very much appreciated

Anonymous said: not sims related, but opinions on the most recent bts comeback?

I don’t keep up with a lot of the boy group comebacks, but I listened to it and thought it was okay? I am pretty strictly into girl groups/female singers though so I’m not the best person to ask about it haha

Anonymous said: hi austin!! i just wanted to say i love your creations and you are one of the most amazing hair creators out there! but i had a quick question: will you ever put your "dean" hair model available for download?

I don’t know if he is saved, but if he is I will try to put him for download!

Anonymous said: ok so i have a question if you dont mind, i feel like it's kind of stupid but how do you manage to move parts of the hair mesh in edit mode without the part you selected like 'seperating' from the part you didn't select and making a big ass gap in the mesh? like does that make sense? when i try to edit shit in edit mode i cant ever bc the faces separate from eachother when i try to translate a part of it or make it smaller, etc. if this makes sense, thank you if not im sorry im just stupid.

REMOVE DOUBLES!!!! lmao that is the only way you will get anything done in edit mode. Proportional Edit Tool and Removing doubles from the entire mesh makes it a lot easier than sculpt mode. Make sure to split edges later though

@bishyouknowit said: I just recently went cc free and now I see your new hairs and I just wanna download all the hairs I had from you again and put them back in my game. I love your stuff so much!! ❤❤❤❤❤

aww thank you!! I am glad you like my cc <3 good luck staying cc free haha I could neverrrr

@bangtansabotage said: who's your loona bias?

Kim Lip <3 then Yves, Jinsoul, and Hyunjin

Anonymous said: Absolutely love the content you're coming out with! You're so talented. 💝

thank you so much <3 glad you are enjoying my cc as much as I enjoy making it :P

Anonymous said: Is it wrong I forgot you were a guy?

Yes.... LMAO egfdbv I am joking :P It is fine you forgot, it isn’t like I am posting a selfie everyday showing off my radiating masculinity sfdcfbvb which I don’t even have

Anonymous said: you’re very good 👌🏼

at what 👀👀 ****** ***?

Anonymous said: Do you put your things up on Simsdom? because I just found you Em hair on there

I don’t :( but as long as they are linking to my post and not to the download link there isn’t much I can do.

Anonymous said: Columbus never set food in North America, he landed on various Caribbean islands. Also, Delaware was the first state.

take that up with my history teacher from like 2nd grade ok rwedffvb

Anonymous said: you're in virginia? I go to college in virginia too but i'm from missouri!! it's cool to think that one of my favorite content creators is so close to me! much love!!!!

ooooo exciting!!! I go to Radford lmao it is like 30 minutes from Virginia Tech

Anonymous said: Yooo! You're from VA! Ive never met anyone online from VA except from me!

omg that is crazy you’ve never met anyone from here before haha, I have only met like one or two so makes sense I guess

#asks

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carasstarwarsmusings · 6 years ago

Text

My Fanfics - Master Post

Completed Fics

Chained (part 1 of the Bound Trilogy) - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Luke Skywalker, Armitage Hux, Snoke (Star Wars), Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Leia Organa, Poe Dameron, Force Bond (Star Wars), creepy kylo, Tough Rey, Luke is a complex character, Everybody is damaged it just is a matter of how much, Slow Burn, First of a Trilogy

Canon compliant through TFA, my exploration of the idea of a force bond between Rey and Kylo. Funny thing, I really didn’t think they’d do it in canon, so this is one of my few fics that actually have a force bond between them.

Trigger warning for an attempted dream rape sequence and child abuse in a Rey flashback dream. Canon typical violence.

Summary

Kylo Ren has found himself fixated on the girl he captured on Takadona. The girl who had somehow managed to best him on Starkiller. The girl who he now realizes is the one from his dreams, the girl in the veil who he has endlessly chased and never catches. The girl that he now appears to be strangely linked to, able to feel over light years of space.

If there is one certainty in his life, it's that this girl will be his, that he will capture her and she will submit to him

Rey survived Kylo Ren and escaped Starkiller, only to find him haunting her. Whispering in her head and finding her in her dreams. Sent to find Luke Skywalker, Rey finds herself training, learning to use her powers, soon realizing that she was being hunted by the monster she defeated but left alive. The monster who's mind now seems linked directly to hers.

Chained together by a force bond, the two adversaries begin to understand the potential and dangers of this link between them.

Snare - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Leia Organa, Original Characters, unnamed-background-Resistance-members™️, Luke Skywalker, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Han Solo, Finn (Star Wars), TFA flip script, And less in a toss the pages in the air kind of way and more of a I put the script in a blender, Dark!Creepy!Luke, Neither side is black or white, everyone is morally grey, characters that are just slightly out of character, On Purpose, It's hard to explain, you'll understand once you read it, Slow Burn

A flip script of TFA that has a Resistance ambush set up in Tuanal and let’s the story deviate from there. Lots of turning themes and arcs and scenes from TFA on their head, so the story feels familiar, but you still just never know for sure what to expect.

Summary

Kylo walked into a trap set up by the Resistance when the First Order raided San Tekka's village. He's now found himself alone in the desert, on a planet crawling with Resistance and Resistance allies and a bounty on his head that is going to have the locals all interested in capturing him.

Pro Forma (Part 1 of Pro Forma Universe) - Rated M

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Leia Organa, space ball

Written using this work of @elithien as my prompt. A space ball in neutral territory where Rey and Kylo once again cross paths.

Preview

Did it even matter? He had been a boy still, the last time he’d been in the same room with his mother. The last time he heard her voice, they hadn’t talked over a com either since then. They had written, there was that, though he had written far more than she wrote back. Dutiful son and Jedi padawan that he had been, he wrote faithfully. She wrote back when she found the time, which, as it always had been with finding time for her family, had been rarely.

Hux swept his way towards the group surrounding the Vice-Chancellor, puffing himself out. He had seen Organa, that was certain. His motives for joining whatever conversations were taking place was certainly to kriff with her. It was what the little prick did best.

Why was he even still standing here? He needed to move, needed to get out of sight. If she looked over at Hux as he approached them, she would see him. Surely, there was nothing good that could come from her knowing he was here. Taking a step back, he began to turn when another figure stepped next to his mother.

Her. The girl. The scavenger.

Six of Swords (part 1 of Arcana)

A little post TLJ angsty force bond ficlet I wrote for ceallaigheirinn for the underated Reylo secret santa. Became the first in what will hopefully be a Tarot inspired ficlet collection.

Six of Swords - A regretful but necessary transition. Being forced to let go of something to which you were attached. A journey that is necessary to leave turmoil behind and find calmer waters. Reversed, limbo, being unable to move on, let go of baggage.

Works In Progress

Something to Love - Rated M - Ch 14/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Finn/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa, Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Jessika Pava, Rey and Kylo ran away together, Sadly they're not going to be able to live happily ever after, Just when they think they were free they get pulled back in, Reylo babies, These two love each other, War's a bitch, six years or so later, General Finn, Admiral Poe Dameron, Commander Jessika Pava, Snoke is still a creep, The Resistance are kind of assholes too, General Finn Tico, Angst, So much angst

A runaway AU and a Reylo Baby AU, where Kylo and Rey ended up both abandoning the fight and running away together. Be prepared for angst and to hate characters you didn’t realize you could hate. Seriously, this fic is kinda non-stop emotional abuse of my readers.

Summary

Six years ago they ran. For four years they've been living in peace, away from the chaos and the war that continues to rage.

Rey and Kylo have built a family and a home on an isolated moon in wild space. For four years with no conflict or run ins with either the First Order or the Resistance, they've allowed themselves to relax and breath, thinking that maybe both sides of the conflict have decided to leave them behind. But the war isn't done with them yet, and when they find themselves forcibly dragged back into the fray, Rey must choose to fight again to protect her children and the man she loves.

Apathetic Synergy - Rated M - Ch 15/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren

I really need to up my tag game on this fic, lol. This is an AU where Rey is captured at the end of TFA by the First Order and is put under Kylo’s care.

Preview

She twisted on the bed, bending as much as the restraints would let her, ignoring the pain of her still healing side and tuning out the steady, irritating beep of the medbay equipment. Her focus was on the clear line running down to the connection to her vein. The medics had come again, added the drugs to IV bag without any acknowledgement of her before leaving. It’s effects were already starting to be felt. Soon it would sweep her away into an unfocused daze.

If she let it.

Catching the line on the guardrail of the bed, she twisted her arm against the restraint, pulling the line taut, biting her lip against the pain of the catheter twisting in her vein. With a slow, steady pull, she felt the needle of the line slip out of the catheter, just enough that the drip would run off and not into her body. The line was close enough that she could use the force to push it back in when they came to check on her, or when the bag was empty and the worry about the drugs were no longer a threat.

Bloodstock - Rated T (for now anyway), Ch 6/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), Han Solo, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Kylo Ren, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Phasma (Star Wars), Armitage Hux, Snoke (Star Wars), Amilyn Holdo, Poe Dameron, Rose Tico, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, equestrian AU, Hunter/Jumper AU, Equestrain book and movie tropes abound, Dark side of the horse industry, Some inspiration from real events and crimes, Millenium Falcon is a horse, As is Kylo's TIE Silencer, Rating subject to change

The equestrian AU no one asked for, where I can combine my horse obsession and my star wars obsession all in one place!

Featuring washed up former champion trainer Han Solo, spunky girl from nowhere Rey, champion jumper rider Kylo Ren who works for Snoke's First Order Stables. Trigger warnings for some violence and animal deaths.

Summary

Whatever Rey had been expecting when she began hitchhiking her way westward across the United States with an expired visa, no money, and next to nothing to her name, ending up working and riding for former champion horse trainer and rider Han Solo had not been one of them. Yet that's where she's found herself, living and working on Han's farm in rural Minnesota with Han, Han's friend and stablehand Chewie Bacca, and the gruff trainer's six horses.

When Han gets himself into more than a little bit of trouble, Rey presses him to bring his old jumper—Millennium Falcon—out of retirement and to let her try to help win the money the man needs. The three travel to Illinois, where the hunter/jumper show world is dominated by First Order Farms, owned by the shady Silas Snoke, and home of champion jumper rider Kylo Ren. Rey soon finds the horse industry is a far darker and more dangerous place than she ever could have expected.

Bonded (Part 2 of the Bound Trilogy) - Rated M - ch 13/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Reylo, Kylo Ren, Rey (Star Wars), More characters to be added as we go along ;), Slow Burn, Grey Jedi, Force Bond

Another I have to up my tag game on. Sequel to Chained.

Summary

Kylo Ren finally has his scavenger, an agreement for her to travel with him for the next year in trade for information he provided the Resistance on the First Order, yet she remains resistant both to him and to being taught by him. With the First Order and Supreme Leader Snoke hunting for them to punish him for his betrayal, he struggles to win Rey's trust, trust he needs if the two of them are going to survive.

In a journey that leads them through the edges of the outer rim to the unmapped reaches of the wild space, the two find themselves following old legends as they attempt to find a better understanding of the Force. In taking on this journey, they will find more about themselves, their feelings towards one another, and the connection that binds them.

Low Places (part 2 of Pro Forma Universe) - Rated M - ch 8/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Kylo Ren & Rey, Dopheld Mitaka/Phasma, Kylo Ren, Sometime after the events in Pro Forma

This takes place after the events in Pro Forma, on a sketchy bar in a neutral world, where Kylo and Rey once again cross paths. The Pro Forma Rey/Kylo are possibly my favorite variations of those characters. It’s a far more, I don’t know, lighthearted than my other stuff? I mean there’s stress and angst and pining, but there’s just something adorable about these two. And this fic can be borderline cracky but not in an unbelievable way.

Preview

Slowly, deliberately, he folded his arms across his chest, cocking his head before speaking in with a tone of dry humor, “Come now, that’s no way to talk about General Organa.”

The mob of Resistance muttered among themselves, not getting the joke. Likely because no one realized who was in the room with them.

Even though the audience that got it was limited, he still thought the joke was a good one. And judging from the flash of annoyance in Rey's eyes, she got it. She’d laugh about it later when the tension in the air wasn't so smothering, he was sure if it.

But right now, Rey was looking around with a panicked desperation in her eyes and he sighed inwardly, taking pity on her as she tried to figure out how to keep the peace and not let things continue to spiral out of control. It tugged at his heart in a way that only she seemed able to inspire, and he forgave her for her concern for the traitor. Forgave her for any and every trespass she’d committed and was still to commit.

Force, she had him. He was completely and irrevocably hers. He would forgive her for anything.

Remnants - Rated M - Ch 7/?

Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Canon Divergence - Alternate Timeline, Flip script, Takes place over the same time as the events in TFA, But Ben never turned against Luke, But the First Order still destroyed the academy, And Luke still ran off and vanished, Ben and Luke are the only survivors of the new Jedi, These tags are complicated

Another flip script of TFA. This one with the idea of Ben never turning against Luke, but still with the new Jedi order being destroyed and Luke vanishing.

Summary

Six years ago the First Order attacked and destroyed Luke Skywalker's new Jedi order, leaving only Ben Organa and Luke as the survivors of the massacre. His uncle having vanished, Ben now serves as the last remnant of the fallen order as the threat of the First Order continues to grow. Doing his best to aid the Resistance and help stop the rise of the First Order, the weight of legacy heavy on his shoulders, he finds himself torn between light and darkness as he searches for his uncle along with darker answer to the events of the past.

Word comes that there's a map that could finally help lead him to his missing uncle, after six years of fruitless searching for clues. For the first time in a long time, he finds hope that he might finally be able to find Luke and bring him home, and finally shed some of the burden that had been left on him in his uncle's absence. Hoping for the best, he heads to meet up with Poe Dameron on the desert planet of Jakku to find this map and keep it from falling into enemy hands.

Arcana - Rated M - Ch 2/77

A little project of mine to create one ficlet for each card in the tarot deck. Each chapter is one card and ficlets are not linear or necessarily within the same timeline.

#master post #reylo #reylo fics #reylo fanfics #cara's reylo fanfics

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