#mods; scan her skull

[ilaiyayaya]

Haunted Bernkastel Fumo that idk probably does something scary

I think buying a scanner was possibly one of the best purchasing decisions I've ever made now I can do dumb shit like this

And I guess I can also do like actual scans of useful stuff like my Umineko Zepar doujin that I've wanted to scan for like an entire year because there's literally no Umineko Zepar content on the internet. But like the dumb shit is funnier and like it's April Fools Day so like I'm morally not allowed to do anything that isn't a really unfunny joke.

IT SCANS SO HIGH QUALITY TOO!!!! LIKE THIS IS MID QUALITY SETTINGS AND IT STILL LOOKS SO GOOD!!!

I CAN DO ANYTHING NOW!!! I'M SO POWERFUL!!!! this thing wasn't even that expensive like I had no reason to not buy one like a year ago like I'm a fucking idiot I've had like 50 things I've wanted to scan but thought a scanner would cost like $500 and for some reason never actually looked into the cost of one...

[ticklishshenanigansau]

LaughterLand - Chapter 26: Web

(story by Mod Secret, art by Mod Secret)

As gravity swiftly pulled the brothers down to the ground they screamed louder than the scurrying animals around them. As they zoomed past the trees, they reached for each other, quite certain that this was going to be the end for them. But as they essentially tried to ‘swim’ for each other through the air, the force of the rushing wind turned them both over, ensuring that their backs would hit the ground first. Sans gritted his teeth, bracing for impact.

The surface that caught them was unexpectedly soft and elastic. The skeletons shrieked in terror as they fell into whatever strange net had caught them. Bouncing up and down from the sudden impact, but coming to rest after several moments in the strange catching-device just hanging between the jungle trees. For many minutes, the two of them just laid there, too dazed to make any sound aside from deep inhales and exhales.

Finally, they shifted their eyes to look at each other. An unexpected smile growing on both of their faces as sheer relief took them over. They had survived, they were back to their normal sizes, and most importantly to the exhausted skeletons, they were both unharmed and safe.

"Sans … what … just happened?" Papyrus breathed out so hard it almost sounded like he was laughing.

"I don't know!" Sans stifled a chuckle himself.

In truth, he couldn't have cared less to learn about just how they ended up here. His mind was too overcome with relief that he just wanted to take a few minutes to bask in it.

"I just…. I just can't believe … we actually survived that!" He finally released that breathy chuckle.

"Me neither!" Papyrus exclaimed. "We should thank whoever put this net here in the middle of the jungle!"

"Yeah." Sans nodded.

After taking a minute to breathe out one last feeling of relief, he looked around to fully assess their newest predicament. He noticed how this strange elastic net was suspended almost exactly in the middle of the large palm trees that surrounded them, giving him a clearer idea of just how high up they were.

"Come to think of it…," he wondered out loud. "Why IS this thing right in the middle of the—"

"Sans! I can't move!!"

Papyrus's sudden shriek caused the older skeleton to abruptly turn his head towards him. Immediately, he noticed that it was hard to move his skull to the side. Some kind of sticky substance was aggressively pulling at his head, trying to get it to remain in place. He looked to see Papyrus struggling to pull himself up. The younger skeleton's arms, legs, and back were stuck to the strange net, giving him little-to-no wiggle room.

Instinctively, Sans also tried to pull himself up, finding that he, too, couldn't move his limbs up from the sticky net. A sinking feeling of dread washed over the skeletons as they pulled harder and harder.

"Sans! What IS this thing?!" Papyrus shrieked in terror.

"I don't know!" Sans grunted, trying hard to focus his energy on one limb at a time. "Just keep pulling, Pap!!"

Sans's mind raced. As he pulled, he desperately looked around, trying to figure out what kind of nightmare they stumbled into this time. All he could see around them were the jungle trees, now looming over them and looking more threatening than ever with them in this vulnerable state. Anxiety flooded his mind the longer they were stuck there. His eyes darted in every direction, desperately wanting their next antagonist to show up just to get it all over with, while dreading their arrival with all of his Soul. He glanced over at Papyrus, who seemed to be following suit, sockets scanning the trees around them all the while, trembling with anticipation.

As the sound of an evil laugh suddenly echoed through the jungle, both brothers jolted in fear. The tone was deep, and yet both brothers could tell that it belonged to a female. Her laughter started off sounding far away, but as she came closer to where the pair of them were held captive, her laughter grew louder and louder. Papyrus winced at the sudden volume change, shutting his sockets tightly and practically vibrating the sticky net with his trembling. Sans, however, kept his eyes wide open. Fiercely gritting his teeth, he made the decision to face this new adversary with as much courage as he could fake.

"Show yourself!" he demanded boldly.

"Sans! What are you doing?!" Papyrus whispered in a shrill tone.

"Come out and get it over with already!"

A tone of anger colored Sans's voice, and he realized just how fed up he was with it all. He was so ridiculously tired of all the mind games these enemies would play on them. Everything from the teasing, to keeping them in a ridiculous amount of suspense, to pulling out new techniques for tickling that he couldn't even dream of. He was just so tired of being someone else's plaything. Anger fumed from his teeth as he strained to pull himself off of the strange, sticky net.

"Come … on!" he groaned loudly. "Come out already, you coward!"

"Sans, calm down!" Papyrus fretted. "You're just going to make them angry, Brother. You have to keep a cool head!"

"A cool head?" the low female voice finally spoke, her voice echoing through the trees coming from right above them. "The acceptance of your fate is one thing, but … a cool head?"

The brothers could hear the creaking of the branches directly above them as the shadowy figure began descending downwards. "Anything less than hysterical denial just spoils the flavor."

As she came into the light, the sound of a panicked scream caught in both brothers' throats. They found themselves face-to-face with a gigantic spider. The brothers were used to big spiders down in the Underground, Miss Muffet being a dear friend of theirs. However, whereas Muffet had a gentle sophisticated look to her, this spider was clearly wild and as feral-looking as could be.

She was gigantic as well — the size of a boss monster, maybe bigger. Her eyes were pitch black with dark red irises. Her body was a deep dark navy blue, with the exception of her abdomen being striped with clusters of teal, magenta, and deep purple colors. As to be expected, she was absolutely covered from head-to-all-eight-toes with soft feathery hair that just looked like it was made for tickling. The enormous fuzzy fangs in her head started moving up and down as she continued to stare at them, almost like she was licking her lips. The pastel green drool that began dripping from them pretty much confirming that theory.

"By all means…," she hissed as she came further into view. "Please do keep panicking, it truly whets my appetite."

Looking up at the horrifying spider, suddenly it all made sense to the both of them. They hadn't landed in a net at all … it was a giant spider web! It was all too much for Papyrus, he screamed and frantically squirmed and thrashed against his new sticky bindings

"Nooooohohohohoooo!! Please! Please no!! Lemmie out!! Get me out of this!! I don't want to be tickled anymore!!"

Sans watched helplessly as his brother was practically on the verge of tears. But as a satisfied sigh escaped from the spider, Sans glared up at her hatefully. The spider's gaze fixated on Papyrus, more and more disgusting drool dripping from her feathery fangs. Sans realized that Papyrus was doing exactly what she had wanted them to do. She was savoring the flavor of his desperate pleading like some kind of a sick appetizer to the main course of his laughter. She hovered over him, soaking it in as he squirmed.

"Hey! Get away from him!!" Sans demanded in a sudden burst of rage that diverted both of their attention.

The spider moved to hover over the older skeleton, seemingly trying to intimidate him the same way she had done to his brother. But Sans gritted his teeth and kept glaring, although he was internally fighting through his own fear and anxiety, he refused to give this newest creature the satisfaction she wanted.

“Oh what’s the matter?” The spider shifted into a mocking tone as she moved her legs closer towards him. “Want me to save all of this just for you, then?”

Sans clenched his fist, subconsciously trying to control the trembling in his bones. As badly as he didn’t want to be tickled by this disgusting beast, he would do anything to keep her away from Papyrus.

“Fine! Whatever!” he growled. “Go after me all you want, just leave him out of this!”

“Sans, don’t!” Papyrus yelled, still trying to pull his arms free.

He should have expected Sans to jump in to try and protect him again. But especially after what he had gone through back at Dropwart’s cottage, the younger skeleton wasn’t about to let him sacrifice himself on his behalf again.

“Brother, you’ve been through enough!” Papyrus implored. “Let her come after me! She can devour my laughter! It’s okay!”

The spider let out an amused chuckle as she daintily placed her legs onto the web and stood over them.

“Oh, such brave souls, offering themselves to me,” she mused, gazing at both of them hungrily. “But you don’t need to worry, there’s plenty to go around.”

She moved towards the edge of her web, a fair distance away from the brothers’ feet. She peered over the edge as if to search for something, before turning back to them, her four eyes smiling deviously. The skeletons’ bones rattled with dread, unsure of what to make of her reaction.

“You see…,” she said slyly. “It’s not my mouth you’re going to feed.”

She looked over the edge again, tilting her horned head to the side and signaling for someone to come join her up on the web. Sans and Papyrus gasped in horror as they witnessed four enormous baby spiders climb up the nearby tree trunks and step lightly onto the web beside her.

They were perfect images of her, except much smaller. But still compared to Muffet’s horde of spiderlings, they were gigantic in size. Their height and width almost reminded Papyrus of the annoying little white dog that would constantly sneak into their house back home. As much as he despised that irritating mutt, in that moment Papyrus would have given anything to see it digging through his pile of special attacks again. Especially after looking into the eyes of these frighteningly hungry spiderlings.

"Mama! Are these for us??"

They spoke in little childish voices. Sans knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but it was still jarring to hear such innocent-sounding voices coming out of such hideous creatures.

"Yes my darlings." The mother spider beamed proudly at her children. "They will make a perfect first meal for you."

The young spiderlings began to gleefully crawl towards the captive skeletons, eliciting another panicked scream from Papyrus.

"No! NOOOO!!" Tears starting to gather in the corner of his sockets, Papyrus frantically pleaded for mercy, quickly trying to dissuade them with everything he could think of. "Nononononono!! Please! You don't want us! We don't taste good! We've already been tickled past our limit! Since when do spiders eat skeletons anyway?! Plehehehease!!"

To the skeletons utter shock, the young spiders actually did stop in their eight-legged tracks. They stood right in front of where the brothers' feet were bound, a sudden look of disappointment showing in their dark eyes.

"What?! You've already been tickled?!" The tone of the one who was speaking was also colored with discouragement.

"Aww! No fair!" groaned another. "We wanted first dibs!"

Seeing a possible way out, Sans immediately ran with it.

"Yeah! I mean you wanna talk about how much we've been tickled? I mean ghosts, plants, cats, fish, you name it, we've been got by it!"

The more he rambled on about their past tickling experiences, the sadder the little arachnids looked. Sans knew he had to keep going, if these spiders were truly the picky-eaters they seemed to be, then this could be their chance to escape!

"Yep! I'd say we probably lost our flavor about … ten tickle attacks ago? Wouldn't you say, Pap?"

"Uh…. Y-Yeah!" Thankfully Papyrus caught on to Sans's plan quickly this time, he continued to play it up trying to sound like the weakest being on the planet. "Ohhh, I'm nothing but bones now!" he whimpered pathetically. "I can barely even feel my tickle spots anymore! I've been tickled away to practically nothing!"

Through this overly dramatic performance, even Papyrus had to admit he almost had a twinge of guilt for practically driving these baby spiders to tears. But in the same breath it meant that it was working! He knew it wouldn't take much more convincing before they would feel the need to release them.

"Oh, do forgive us, Children!" he continued the performance. "Oh how we very much wish that we could be your first meal…."

He peeked an eye open at Sans, the older skeleton was wearing a cringed smile as he motioned for Papyrus to cut out the dramatics.

"B-But I'm afraid my brother and I have nothing we can offer." His tone abruptly changed back to normal following his brother's silent instruction. "So if there's nothing we can do to help, would you kindly let us—NYAAGH!!"

The younger skeleton shrieked as the mother spider landed directly above their heads. She seemed to come out of nowhere, neither skeleton had even noticed when she took off from the web. She stood directly over them, her eyes giving them an evil glare for daring to try and outsmart her offspring.

"Oh, such nonsense!" she snapped, her angered tone directed perfectly at Sans and Papyrus before turning back to the spiderlings with her gentle motherly tone. "Here's one lesson you must always know, children."

She spread out her long fuzzy legs, showing off just how easily she could reach around both skeletons.

"When the world offers you a decent meal, you take it no matter what!"

Using two legs on each side, she scribbled and scratched along the brothers' ribs and under their arms. Papyrus let out a burst of panicked giggling immediately. Sans gritted his teeth and tried to hold back. But even he couldn't predict how soft and ticklish those fuzzy spider legs were.

"NYAAAAAAAGHAHAHAHA!! OH NOHOHOHOHO!! NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEASE!! HAHAHAHA!!" Papyrus pleaded and squirmed desperately against the sticky bindings.

Sans immediately opened his teeth to follow suit, but was harshly reminded of how much his new attacker craved their desperate pleading. He clenched his jaw tightly, only allowing strained laughter to escape from his teeth. Though he wasn't in a position to ask the same of Papyrus, he refused to let her hear him begging for mercy.

"As you can see, children…," the mother spider spoke loudly to be heard over the skeletons' uproarious laughter. "No matter who had 'first dibs' it's all the same. Nobody ever truly wears out their ticklishness in LaughterLand."

The hysterical skeletons peeked open their eyes, horrified to find the four little spiders now staring at them with newfound eagerness and hunger in their expressions. The mother spider at last lifted her legs away, giving both brothers a chance to breathe before looking at her children expectedly.

"Well my darlings?"

They didn't answer her, they didn't even need to. Both she and the skeletons could tell from the way the same pastel green drool was dripping from their fuzzy fangs, she had them fully convinced. Her deep voice let out a chuckle as the moved back to give the spiderlings some room.

"Two on each side now," she gently instructed. "No crowding, there's plenty to go around…."

As she continued on, the young spiders wasted no more time listening. Two pounced onto Papyrus while the other two leapt onto Sans. In an instant, they were once again drowning in hysterical laughter as thick fuzzy legs began skittering under their arms and across their ribs. Soft little squeezes were applied to their knees and toes, as well as their spines and even up towards their necks. It was another horrific ticklish nightmare for the poor, exhausted skeletons.

“OH NO!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! NYAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHO!! PLEHEHEASE!! PLEHEHEASE GET AHAHAHAFF!! HAHA!! G-GEHET AHAHAFF MEHEEHEEHEE!! HAHAHA!!” Papyrus screeched.

The problem with being equipped with so many legs, is that so many different spots could be tickled at once. While one spiderling squeezed and tickled along his ribcage with its four front legs, its back legs were scribbling along his ribs and underarms. Tears immediately started spilling from the younger skeleton’s sockets as he begged and pleaded for mercy.

“STAHAHAHAHAP!!” His voice was on the cusp of sobbing. “STAHAHAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!! I-I-I CAHAHAN’T STAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIT!!”

“Ooooh! I really like this one!!” cheered one of the spiderlings as it played Papyrus’s ribs like a laughing instrument.

Meanwhile, Sans clamped his jaw down so tightly it started causing his teeth to ache. It was beyond exhausting keeping ahold of his own need to verbally vent. But he held back, only letting out growling groans and strained laughter.

“AHAHAHAHAAA!! GRR!! NNNGGGHHAHAHAHAHA!! AAGH! AHAHAHAAA!!”

The spiderlings that were attacking Sans seemed to notice right away just how much he was holding back, as they didn’t seem to express as much joy out of tickling him as their other siblings were getting after Papyrus. They wriggled their fuzzy legs harder and harder against his ribs, spine, and knees. They played with his feet and toes, and even traveled back up his body to dig into his neck and brush against his cheekbones. Sans laughed and squirmed and guffawed and thrashed with every ounce of strength he had left, but still he refused to let out a single pleading word. The spiderlings paused as they overheard Papyrus letting out a horrific scream of terror as his own attackers went for his toes.

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAP!! NYAHAHAHAA!!”

“Hey! Look what I can do!” called the young spider who was attacking his right foot. It had somehow managed to weave its own web in between all of Papyrus’s toes. With all of the appendages perfectly tied up in the sticky string, the spiderling pulled the toes upwards leaving them unmoving and completely exposed. “Now he can’t curl up his toes and protect them!” it cheered as it used its spare legs to wriggle under and between them.

“NO! NOHOHO PLEHEHEHEASE!! AHAHAHA!! OHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEASE NAHAHAT THAHAHAHAT!!” Papyrus shrieked as he felt the second spiderling crawling down towards his other foot.

“I wanna try too!” it cried as it proceeded to spin its own web between the toes of his left foot.

Before Papyrus knew it, both sets of toes were splayed out in the young spiders’ little webs. Pulled taut and unable to wiggle free, the spiders gleefully took advantage of every exposed inch of the poor skeletons’s helpless feet.

“NYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! M-MEHEHERCY!! HAHAHAHA!! PL-PLEHEHEHEASE!! OH-OHOHOHO GAHAHAHAHA…!!” Papyrus trailed off in a fit of silent laughter frantically trembling in the web. He silently prayed that the bright orange tears falling from his face would somehow loosen the sticky string enough to at least release his head, but they fell like perfectly undisturbed rain down to the jungle floor.  

"Hey, can we have some of yours?"

By this point, the spiders who were tickling Sans had stopped completely to ogle at Papyrus's misery. Sans took in big mouthfuls of air, his face trying to shake away the tears gathering in his sockets from all the strain. He was so beside himself with exhaustion that he didn't even hear the spiderlings talk about targeting his brother.

"No way!" cried the spider on Papyrus's right foot. "You've got your own!"

"But yours has more flavor!" the other spider argued. "It's not fair! Mama! Make them share!"

The mother spider gently nudged at the spiderlings tickling at Papyrus's toes, they begrudgingly released his feet and crawled back onto the web. Papyrus let out a pitiful sob intermixed with catching his breath, fearing that she was going to allow Sans's spiders to come after him next. But to his surprise, she blocked them from moving towards him.

"Give this one a chance to recover, darlings," she gently instructed. "If you overwhelm him too quickly, he'll pass out before you properly get your fill. Take your time dears, savor it."

The spiderlings nodded obediently, eyeing Papyrus and making him squirm uncomfortably. She turned to face Sans, who had finally managed to regulate his breathing. He stared into her multiple eyes, trying to have that same look of defiance. But even he had to admit that holding back his words like that took more out of him than he’d figured, and he could tell by the expression she was giving that she could read that in him clearly.

“Now children, this one is bursting with flavor, I can promise you that,” she mused, now looking the older skeleton up and down. “The only difference is, he’s going to make you work for it a little bit more.”

She began jabbing him in different spots all over his body. The front of his spine, the lower ribs, the ankles, anywhere she could properly read a reaction. Sans once again tried his best to hold back. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he tried to stifle his reactions, but he was unable to stop himself from jolting his body, and couldn’t silence the sharp breaths that she drew out of him whenever she jabbed at somewhere vulnerable. He could tell that every move he made was playing right into her multiple hands.

“It’s all about finding that right spot….” There was a smile in her tone as she poked around his toes. Her soft fuzzy legs eliciting a sudden jump from the skeleton. “Once you find it, it’ll be the tastiest treat you’ve ever had.”

Sans knew right then and there what lesson she was trying to impart on her children. She wanted them to make him beg, to find the spot that would get him pleading for mercy. His expression shifted to a hateful glare, he refused. He didn’t care what it would take, he absolutely refused to give in to what they wanted him to do. He wouldn’t give them the meal the wanted, or the satisfaction of hearing him plead for mercy. She turned back to the spiderlings.

“Have you tried using their techniques on his toes?” she suggested cruelly. “Pull them back and see what happens.”

The spiderlings wasted no time, they crawled back towards Sans’s feet and immediately began wrapping his toes up with their miniature spiderwebs. A shrill squeal escaped from the older skeleton as he felt the delicate tickling sensation of the web being woven in between his toes. He wanted to scream at them to stop, but held back, reminding himself that it wouldn’t do any good anyways. Another gasp escaped from him as he felt both sets of toes being pulled upwards, a light breeze wisped through the in between spaces of his toes as they were perfectly splayed out. He didn’t have time to even attempt to struggle before he felt their soft fuzzy legs start digging into his vulnerable toes.

“EEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEE!!! AAGH!! AAAAGH!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! NNNNGGHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!”

His laughter came out more panicked than ever. He kept trying to hold back, but his jaw had become too exhausted to keep his teeth clenched anymore. Letting out a series of growls and shrieks, all he could do was mentally force his words to stay muffled as he laughed uncontrollably.

“There, now isn’t that a bit better?” the mother spider cooed.

“A bit…,” answered one of them, clearly not convinced. “But still not as good as the other one.”

“Oh yes, that’s right.” The mother spider turned back towards her other children, who were still staring hungrily at Papyrus. “That’s enough of a break, young ones. You may continue. But remember … gently.”

Papyrus let out a horrified gasp as the spiderlings crawled back on top of him. One resumed tickling at his feet, while the other one jabbed at his ribs and underarms. They were, indeed, much more gentle in their attack, but it still sent Papyrus into another fit of hysterical laughter.

“NO! NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!! NYAHAHAHAHAHAAA!! OHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! AHAHAHAHAHA!! N-N-NO!! NOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!! HAHAHAHA!!”

Sans glanced back over at Papyrus, his vision became blurry from the new onslaught of tears gathering in his tired sockets. He wanted so badly to call out to him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But even he knew that he couldn’t keep that promise, he had no idea how they were going to get out of this now. They were hopelessly stuck with five hungry and vicious ticklers, and as desperately as he tried to keep it together, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out before they broke him.

The mother spider moved back towards the top of Sans’s head, having just remembered a particular reaction that she had previously overlooked.

“Well if one spot doesn’t do the trick…,” she continued with her sadistic lesson. “Perhaps try multiple spots at once.”

She lowered two fuzzy legs down towards Sans’s underarms, the older skeleton let out a panicked squeal in between gasps for air.

“Oh yes…,” she hissed. “I think this spot will do nicely.”

She began to gently poke and trace little circles around Sans’s defenseless underarms. Poor Sans let out a scream that defied the usual low tone of his voice. His entire body trembled and shook, leading the entire web to vibrate uncontrollably.

“WAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!! AHAHAHAHA!! N-N-NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AAAAGH!! PL-PL-AAAAGHAHAHAHA!! ST….AAAAAGH!!”

He only barely managed to stop himself after accidentally releasing the beginning of a plea, his mind was starting to go blank, it was getting too hard to focus. With every passing second of enduring the horrible ticklish sensations, Sans’s control was slipping further and further away. The mother spider let out another low chuckle.

“I think we’re getting warmer.” She beamed down at her prey.

“Hey! Watch this!”

Sans barely even registered that one of the spiders had spoken again, he didn’t even figure out what it had said until he felt its soft fuzzy fangs start nibbling on the ball of his right foot.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHAHAHAHA…!!” Sans trailed off into silent squeaky laughter, tears endlessly falling down his bright blue cheeks.

It was the strangest sensation. As its thick fangs scraped against his sensitive feet, the soft hair suddenly became coarse due to the harsh friction of the spider’s nibbling. It was akin to having two long hairbrushes grazing across the sensitive spot, creating a horrendous tingling buzz. It was utterly unbearable!

The mother spider immediately took her legs out from Sans’s underarms the moment she heard him devolve into silent laughter. The alleviation of her underarm tickling left Sans with enough oxygen to start laughing and screaming with his full voice again, but remarkably, he still held onto enough sanity to resist the urge to beg.

“Hmm, that’s quite good dear,” she complimented the one who was nibbling his toes. “It’s always good to try out new techniques. Just remember what I said about pacing. We don’t want to overwhelm the prey too quickly, do we?”

Understanding immediately what she was instructing him to do, the spiderling lifted its fangs away from Sans’s feet, finally allowing the skeleton to breathe. Sans inhaled so quickly, he coughed and wheezed from the sudden shift in oxygen intake. His chest ached from having to catch his breath so many times in one miserable day, and he couldn’t help but lay limp and lifeless in the web not even having the strength to be on guard anymore.

The spiderlings that were tormenting Papyrus had also stopped to give him a break. Blinking the remaining tears from his sockets, Papyrus glanced at Sans. His poor brother looked so exhausted, so defeated. Sans opened his eyes to glance back at Papyrus, he wanted so badly to give his brother the look of reassurance and confidence that he so desperately needed to hang on through this mess. But Sans’s face was too tired to even try.

“Hmm…. I still don’t think we’ve quite found the right spot on him, have we?”

The mother spider began examining Sans again. Her many eyes scanning every inch of his body, deeply pondering what they could have possibly overlooked. Sans knew exactly what spot they were trying to find, his Soul filling with utter dread at the thought of them finding it.

Almost on cue, the spiderling that had been tickling at his left foot had found an opening in the web. It crawled underneath until it was hanging upside down crawling on the opposite side of where the brothers were laying. Sans began to tremble again, his Soul practically exploded out of his ribcage as he felt the young spiderling starting to crawl up his back. The creature meticulously began poking at every available spot, taking note of every tense jolt and squeak that it could pull from the older skeleton.

Then finally, it happened. One of its fuzzy legs just barely grazed along the grooves of his back, Sans never had a chance.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOHO!! NOOO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP!!”

His shrill cachinnating words burst out of him like an explosion, tears flew in every direction imaginable, and his mind went blank with insanity.

“Good work, my dear!” the mother spider praised proudly. “You found it! Now, you may feast!”

The spiderling lightly dug all of its eight fuzzy legs into Sans’s back. It knew it could have gone a lot harder with the scribbling, but besides heading its mother’s advice, it didn’t need to. Sans screamed and thrashed and pleaded with everything he had. He didn’t even think about it anymore, his mind was all consumed with the horrible sensation, leaving his body in uncontrollable laughing seizure.

“NOOOOO!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!”

“Leave him alone!!” Papyrus shrieked, finally seeing what they were doing to his brother. “Let him go!! Please!! He’s had enough!! STOP!!”

He gathered enough strength to start struggling again, but his words and actions were immediately cut off by the other two spiderlings moving in to attack again.

As both skeletons lay there hopelessly laughing at the hands of four tickling spiderlings, the mother spider hovered over them, proudly taking it all in. She inhaled deeply, sharing in her family’s captured meal.

“Yes.” She sighed deeply. “You two will do perfectly. Your screams and laughter will keep us fed for many generations to come. My children will grow into strong Tickle Spiders thanks to your nourishment, as will their children. Your laughter will echo through the trees of this jungle for years to come, and all will know—”

“Uhm … excuse me?”

A tiny voice from up above suddenly put an end to the onslaught of merciless tickling. The brothers didn’t even hear it, they wasted no time taking in as many mouthfuls of air as they could. Coughing and spluttering and practically sobbing as their breathing slowly regained normalcy.

It seemed to take forever before the blurriness faded from their vision and they could finally see past the remaining tears. Something very small and green was hovering just a few feet above them. The light coming down from the trees almost gave it the appearance of an angel. Once they came to realize who it was, it felt as though their prayers had been answered … it was Sky!

“Well, hello there, fellas!”

The little green spider tipped his blue top hat towards them in his signature greeting, his pleasant Southern-like voice was practically music to the drained skeletons’ ear canals.

“S…. Skyder?” Sans croaked, his face and voice were raw, almost painful to try and move again.

“Heh, almost!” The little spider chuckled. “But I’ll let that one slide given the state that you’re both in.”

The mother spider looked up at him, a confused expression showing in her four eyes.

“You know these two morsels?” she inquired.

“I sure do, Auntie! These guys are old friends of mine!” Sky replied in his usual chipper tone.

“Auntie?” Papyrus’s tone would have sounded more flabbergasted had he not been so worn out.

“Anywho, these nice gents here are trying to find their way home, you see,” Sky explained. His tone was almost obnoxiously cheery, as if he hadn’t just witnessed his two friends being tickled in the most traumatizing way possible. “And I came by thinking I just might be able to help them out!”

“W-Wait you…,” Papyrus trailed off breathlessly. “You … can…. You can get us … home?”

“I think so! I think I found a way back to this ‘Underground’ you were going on about!” Sky nodded, a big smile showing across his little face.

Sans and Papyrus practically started weeping again, for a moment they had thought they had fallen out of the web and crashed to the ground. A ray of hope had overwhelmed them in an instant. They had found a way home? It didn’t seem real. Was this nightmare truly about to end?

“No way!” the spiderling on Sans’s back suddenly shrieked. “We just got the hang of getting this food! It’s ours!”

“Yeah!” the other spiderlings agreed.

Unyielding fear and dread shot through the brothers yet again in remembering their current predicament. These horrible spiders had finally found out just what made them tick, there was no way they were going to give them up without a fight. The mother spider looked at her children, then back at Sky.

“I’m sorry, dear nephew, but I don’t think my little darlings are quite willing to part with their new favorite food.”

Sky thought for a moment. His many eyes looked back and forth between the skeletons and his Auntie. Finally he floated down on his delicate string of web to meet her face-to face. It was jarring to the brothers just how much tinier he was compared to her.

“Auntie, would you mind if I had a word with you, alone?” he gently implored.

The mother spider let out a disgruntled sigh, but proceeded to follow the little Sky Spider up to the top of a nearby tree, leaving the brothers alone with the four spiderlings.

They stayed up there talking privately between the two of them for what must have been at least five minutes. At one point, one of the spiderlings attempted to snack on Papyrus by tickling at his toes. But his sharp giggles drew a stern look from the mother spider, prompting her children to stop in their tracks and refrain from anymore surprise attacks.

Finally, she called all four of them up there to join her and Sky in the conversation. The family of spiders stayed in the top of the tree whispering too lightly for either brother to hear what they were talking about. Meanwhile, Sans and Papyrus used that time to regain their breath and sanity. Neither of them wanting to even mention what Sky had told them. They didn’t want to somehow jinx the possibility of them finally finding a way out of this horrible place. For now, they just wanted to hold out hope that he could somehow get them out of this mess.

It took a long time, but finally Sky descended back down to the web. It was hard to tell because of how small he was, but the brothers had thought they had seen a look of satisfaction on his face.

“Okay fellas, hold still now,” he said, beginning to work on the web surrounding Sans’s right arm. “I’m gonna cut you both loose. Might take a minute for you to get used to gravity again, but when you do—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on,” Sans interrupted. “They’re gonna let us go? Seriously?”

“Yeah!” Sky replied cheerfully. “I’m gonna take you guys to where I found the exit outta here! Just lemmie get you out of this….”

Both brothers were too stunned to speak, as the little spider worked on cutting them out of the sticky web, a hopeful smile spread across both of their faces. This was it, they were finally going to escape this nightmare and be free!

Once Sans felt the stickiness start to lift off of his limbs, he fell with a heavy crash to the grass below. Papyrus followed after him with a loud THUD! It took several minutes for both brothers to readjust to gravity and stand up on their own. But once they finally felt comfortable enough to walk, Sky landed on Papyrus’s shoulder, his many eyes beaming up at them.

“Okie dokie, you ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes!” Papyrus practically leapt up and down with joy, momentarily forgetting how uneasy his balance was and nearly tripping. “Let’s go home!” he cheered, following Sky’s front leg pointing him in the direction out of the jungle.

Before Sans followed behind them, he caught a glimpse at the mother spider and her spiderlings still watching them from the top of the tree. He expected them to be staring back at him with hatefulness for having gotten away from them. But to his surprise, that emotion wasn’t present in their expression.

The hunger was still there, but there was also a look of satisfaction. Almost one of acceptance, as if she and her family just hadn’t lost the biggest meal ticket of their lives. It was eerie and unnatural, it sent a chill crawling up the older skeleton’s spine.

“Sans, come on! Let’s get out of here!”

Papyrus’s voice snapped Sans back to reality, and he quickly turned to catch up with them. Though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was still about to happen with these spiders.

[veiledfox]

The God who Vanished [ I ]

Artig huffs, having just finished summoning the last of his research materials from his Artifact's inventory. Seated in the lowest floor of the Pagoda, the dozens of papers, scrolls, and tomes, and handful of more modern books all set in the center of the floor. Setting Welt Mod at his side as he raises his free hand under his hair and behind his head to scratch at the base of his skull a bit while his mismatched eyes turn to the other two present.

"It's all... records of the presence of the Gods?" A question, given by the Doll as she eases down to her knees to take a seat opposite the Feline Man. Her eyes, enhanced by magic due to their very creation, scanning over the various articles in front of her. In the same moment, her companion Ferret Doll clambers down her arm onto the floor before beginning to scurry about the present items. Hotaru and Hoshi, taking in the information from two sets of eyes, sharing it all with each other seemlessly.

"That's right." Confirmation, with a nod, as the Man adjusts his seating. One leg sideways, the other up, both bent, arm atop his raised knee to lean against it. "The fact they did nothin' after what Kyuushi pulled was naggin' at me, in all honesty. I mostly didn't bother worrying about it for the longest time, but bit by bit that naggin' grew louder and louder. I started lookin' around for anythin' 'n' everythin' about the Gods in recent years to see if somethin' stuck out."

Hotaru hums briefly, her and her companion both turning their attention to scan for the most recent entry in the provided items. Eventually spotting a clean scroll, in near perfect condition, which with a simple nod of the Humanoid head the Ferret would bound over to and retrieve. Carrying it to their companion. The Woman easing the scroll open to take in it's contents, where she finds a list of the Japanese Deities.

"It has bothered me to, as if I really need to say that though." Kyuushi finally speaks, after taking a deep breath with a long sigh. "Though I've been so wrapped up with other things or... distracted... so I've not had a chance. Nor have I really wanted to risk it, given they've not done anything yet. Didn't want to take the chance that they were just... waiting, for some reason. I can't imagine anything among records of their presence would answ-"

"Inari..." the Doll interrupts, her brows furrowing with confusion.

"God of Foxes in the Japanese Shinto Kami." The Kitsune responding with a raised brow. "What about Inari?"

"She essentially vanished from recent history." Artig interjects quickly. "Every single God in existance has some form of presence recorded by Mythos, Mages, and Priests even up to modern day. All except for Inari."

"What?" Stepping over behind Hotaru, the Vixen bends to look over her shoulder at the scroll herself. Oceanic eyes scanning through the text present.

Amaterasu: Blessed the recovery of croplands which had suffered from lands damaged by chemicals. Healing the land, allowing crops to grow once more. Ame-no-Uzume: Graced an pair of dancers who suffered leg injuries, undoing some of the damage that had been suffered, allowing the injuries to heal properly. The pair of dancers have become well known in online circles. Inari: Izanagi: Prayed to by a Priest and Mother to relieve a Child of their illness, after traditional remedies and modern medicines had failed to provide relief. The Boy's symptoms lessened within the hour, then gradually receeded during the next week. Izanami: Granted death to a suffering Man who had lost his leg and been impaled in a car accident. Last words were a prayer to the Goddess of Death, shortly after which his expression seemed to turn to one of peace and he passed on. Susanoo: Invoked during a traditional wedding held near the ocean where to bless and watch over the couple. The waters began to grow wild during the ceremony, but abruptly calmed as Izanagi was prayed to by the couple. Tsukuyomi: A Man who had been wronged invoked the name of Tsukuyomi while cursing out those who had wronged him, demanding order be returned and the injustices he had suffered be punished. One of those who had wronged him was found dead the next day by unkown means, and those who remained did all they could to revert the damage that had been done in fear for meeting the same fate.

"Her entry is empty. It's like that for everything in the past few centuries." Artig speaks again, after a moment of silence as he watched the Kitsune read the contents of the scroll. "The last mention of Inari doing... anythin', is a while before the Grand War between the Grand Kitsune and the Gods. Though as I asked around while tryin' to get all this material, no one seemed to be aware until I mentioned it. Nor is there any indication that anyone's made a big deal of it."

"Guide us through everything." Kyuushi responds, pulling her eyes away from the scroll as she sits down next to Hotaru. The trio of Mythos then delving deep into the various sources of records and logs to seek out any and all information they could. The once singular perspective now tripled, which would hopefully shed new light on... anything, really.

[saifa-ao3]

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Relationships: Frisk is with their monster family, Frisk & Sans (Undertale), Frisk & Papyrus (Undertale), Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Frisk & Toriel (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr & Frisk, Alphys & Frisk (Undertale), Frisk & Undyne (Undertale), Flowey & Frisk (Undertale), Characters: Frisk (Undertale), Flowey (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr, Toriel (Undertale), Alphys (Undertale),Undyne (Undertale), Sans (Undertale), Papyrus (Undertale), W. D. Gaster

Additional Tags: beach, Summer, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Picnic, Gaster is only hinted at vaguely, utss 2021, Undertale Secret Santa 2021

Word count: 2012

Hey, @floppy-skeleton! It is I, Mod Saifa, who has taken up the task of writing your back up gift! I knew I could crank this out real quick since I was feeling pretty good, and I didn't want you to have to wait much longer. Plus, I considered it a great opportunity for practice if I'm going to try to do short writing commissions in the near future.

I picked the prompt, "Undertale having a picnic together on the surface with a hint of Alphyne and gaster." This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you get even more joy reading it. I know it's a silly read, but you seemed to want something fluffy and light-hearted. I hope I was right!

Preview below the cut.

“Frisk!” Toriel called out against the warm breeze and towards the ocean. She waved her sunhat above her head. The blue and purple segmented beach umbrella shielded her from the strong sun, casting a soothing shade and cooling the sand beneath. Meanwhile, Flowey grumpily rooted himself in the shade by her feet. “Lunch is ready. Make sure to bring in Sans and Papyrus too!”

Frisk stood up in the shallow water, their hair, swim trunks, and shirt soaked and dripping. They gave Toriel a thumbs up, then marched deeper to where Sans was floating on an innertube. It was patterned like a pink donut with rainbow sprinkles, which he found absolutely hilarious at the time and had to purchase. It was what inspired the bombardment of donut puns for the rest of the day, much to Papyrus’ great displeasure since he considered them lazy. Frisk tapped Sans lightly on the top of his skull. The skeleton had been napping in the sun with sunglasses taped in place.

Sans yawned, then lifted his head and moved his glasses to look at Frisk. “Lunch time already?” he asked lazily.

Frisk shot him a big grin and nodded. In search of Papyrus, they shielded their eyes and scanned the glittering waves. “Where did your brother go?” they signed.

“When it comes to skeletons…as above, so below,” Sans grinned, then let the glasses fall back against the bridge of his nose. Nestling back into the donut, he waved his hand slightly in the air.

Blue magic, Frisk figured. But that still didn’t explain where Papyrus was. They tilted their head in confusion.

“Don’t worry about him, kid. I got him.”

Frisk shrugged and decided not to worry. Papyrus cared about punctuality, so they were sure he’d come back soon. Another call from Toriel prompted Frisk to grab Sans by the ankle and pull him back to shore like a tugboat bringing in another boat dead in the water. The shallows sloshed around their ankles until they reached wet sand. The innertube slid and scraped against the grittiness and Frisk let go so Sans could sort himself out. In a trot that soon broke out into a run, they kicked up sand as they made their way to the picnic. More beach umbrellas had been set up with towels for everyone’s place. A blanket stretched out across the sand with picnic baskets to weigh it down.

“There you are, my child,” Toriel greeted warmly while holding up a towel. She gently rubbed it against their hair, then wrapped it around their shoulders. “Have a seat. Once everyone gets here, we can start.”

Continue reading on AO3!

[metalbvcky]

*Shows up late to the Stucky/Marvel fandom Post-EG with Starbucks and dozens of fics that I’ve read in hand* So you guys like fanfiction?

Yeah so, because of quarantine I’ve been consuming a ton of fic. I’ve probably read over 1.5 million words in just a couple months. So why not share what I’ve been reading! Note that some of these are older (popular) fics so veteran Stucky peeps will probably know of them since I not too recently delved into the realm that is Stucky fanfic. :)  

Down below are over a dozen fics with different tropes, Canon/AU’s, and what not. Please do heed the tags on some of these. For the curious: My AO3 bookmarks. 

Also shoutout to @stuckylibrary, the mods over there are doing the lords work. 

Key:  ♥ = My fave, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub 

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard ♥ by Halbereth, Lorien - Words: 152,284 | CW Fix It, Slight Canon Divergence, Recovery, Slow Burn

Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help. He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve.

From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.” Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

Reap The Whirlwind by Cristinuke - Words: 18,221 | Canon Universe, Post CW, Domestic 

Bucky finds a cat. Or rather, a cat finds him.

Your Favorite Ghost by augustbird - Words: 21,013 |  Canon Divergence, Post TWS

It's harder than Steve ever expected to bring Bucky home.

Despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) ♥ by praximeter (Zimario) - Words: 71,532 | Canon Divergence TWS, Body Modifications 

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

This city bleeds its aching heart ♥ by Renne - Words: 34,537 | Canon Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship 

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

The Best Way to Wake ♥ by LeeHan - Words: 42,293 | Post TFA, Canon Divergence TWS, Recovery 

James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!”

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail ♥ series by owlet - Words: 264,438 | Canon Divergence (sort of) 

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Undersell, overcommit by silentwalrus - Words: 10,222 | Canon Universe 

Steve goes so hard for Bucky that he becomes a licensed, practicing massage therapist.

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches by Sena - Words: 26,734 | Post-TWS, Canon Universe 

Steve lives in Stark Tower and doesn't have much to do when he's not going after Hydra strongholds. He attends charity events to make Pepper happy. He goes hiking with Sam. He hangs out with Clint in Bed-Stuy and watches Dog Cops. Sometimes Tony gives him super alcohol in a sippy cup. Sometimes he sees Bucky out of the corner of his eye and wonders if it's real or if he's starting to lose his mind.

Alternately, the one with terrible jokes, a foot chase through the Lower East Side, and a tiny little robot named Shitcan.

Sugar Sweet ♥ from the Red Velvet series by ColorCoated - Words: 173,400 | Modern/Sugar Daddy AU, Age Difference, Slow Burn

"What's your name?" It wasn't even a line. He was just pretty and Bucky wanted a name to go with that face. With that strong jawline. With those deep blue eyes. A little smirk, "Steve."

Awww, Steve. He looked like a Steve. Bucky pursed his lips in a way he hoped was attractive, "You should buy me a drink."

College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

Steve and Bucky Go Away for the Weekend (and cook a lot) ♥ by E_Greer -  Words: 30,126 | Canon Universe, Domestic 

In which Steve coaxes Bucky out of the Tower for a birthday weekend away and sweet, fluffy domesticity ensues. Phlintasha helps keep Bucky calm, Steve has Opinions about how you set the table, stories are told, greenhouses are toured, baths are had, books are read, tears are shed, stars are gazed upon, and everyone makes Bucky feel loved. Includes Friday night dinner, Saturday morning breakfast, Saturday lunch, Saturday dinner, and Sunday brunch.

Dona Nobis Pacem by thegraytigress - Words: 65,214 | Canon Universe, Recovery 

"This job... We try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes it doesn't mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that... Next time maybe nobody gets saved."

An incident on the battlefield exposes how much Steve's falling apart under the crushing weight of leading the Avengers after Sokovia. Now Bucky's adopting a new mission: save Steve before he destroys himself completely, even if it means the end of Captain America.

Give 'Em Hope ♥ by L1av - Words: 130,022 | Modern/Hospital AU, UA/Age Difference 

Dr. Steve Rogers likes to think that if his patients have hope- their chances of survival will increase. Bucky Barnes has a 20% chance of survival and a desperate yearning to experience life. Against Steve's better judgment, he develops a relationship with his patient. It's illegal. It's wrong. But it's giving Bucky the hope to keep going, so Steve's going to keep giving it, because he wants Bucky to survive. He needs him to.

You belong (to me) by hermionesmydawg - Words: 29,759 | S, DS, Canon Compliant, Post CW

"Hold on." Bucky lifted a finger and backed out of the doorway, returning a moment later with his cell phone. He snapped a photo of Steve, typed a few words, and then returned to his apple. "What the hell were you doing at a sex club last night?"

"Not having sex, if that's what you're wondering." An alert sounded from Steve's nightstand - a new Snapchat message. He rolled his eyes and unlocked his phone. Sam was always sending stupid Snapchats and frankly, Steve couldn't figure that goddamn app out and cursed whoever created that piece of shit.

The chat wasn't from Sam this time, however. It was a picture of himself, not looking guilty at all, with the caption "when your buddy catches you looking at p*rn."

Circling Back from the It’s Not Linear series by chaya - Words: 59,642 (Series Total: 136,782) | Canon Divergence

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him.

Continuing Education by 743ish, romanticalgirl - Words: 14,443 | S, Canon Universe/College, Shrunkyclunks 

Steve is invited to be a guest lecturer on the WWII unit for Bucky's college course. Bucky's more than happy to glean any extra knowledge (in more than just history) from Steve, and Steve's happy to eductate him. But then Bucky has to decide if he can handle the fact that Steve throws himself into danger, and if the sex is worth it. Or if it's not just sex anymore.

Salt & Sugar by GoldBlooded, stfustucky - Words: 19,598 | Modern/Restaurant AU

Steve Rogers is a bigshot celebrity chef in New York City, and Bucky Barnes is a classically trained pastry chef in Moscow.

When billionaire and mutual friend Natasha Romanoff calls on them to collaborate for her Memorial Day Benefit Gala, they both brace themselves to spend the week working with some jerk they're bound to hate. Except... Steve makes a burger that could bring Bucky to tears, and Bucky makes tartlets so beautiful Steve's sure they qualify as art. Maybe, just maybe, together they could make this a night to remember.

@/sgtbarnes1917 and @/cptrogers1918 by BayleyWinchester - Words: 114,203 | Canon Universe, Social Media Fic 

Bucky Barnes broke Twitter with one photo

Proprietary Information ♥ from the Additional Information series by notlucy - Words: 85,141 (Series Total: 165,871) | Modern AU, Age difference, Slow Burn

Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Deep in the Woods (Where My Heart Has Been Waiting) by SilverMyfanwy - Words: 15,353 | Pioneer-AU, Shrinkyclinks 

Steve Rogers gets lost in the woods in a snowstorm. Bucky Barnes takes him in. Pioneer-era AU ish with Shrinkyclinks, evil chickens and a cabin in the woods.

A Bucky Odyssey by inediblesushi, thorstbench - Words: 9,952 | Shrinkyclinks,  Cap!Bucky, Nurse!Steve  

Bucky Barnes, Captain America, has a plan to make Steve Rogers, SHIELD nurse, fall in love with him. Confiding in the Internet might not be the best idea, though. So when the bad pick up lines do not work and Steve looks determined to staying single, he decides to be more himself and less what he thinks he should be.

At first I wanted to wait to post this until I finished a few more fics from my ever growing read-later list but what the heck, now or never! I’ll probably end up making a part 2 reclist by the amount of fic I’m reading these days. 

Happy reading and stay safe out there fellow Stucky trash members!!

[imagine-the-energon]

How bout Silas experimenting on his teen kid to make them a techno organic? They run away and bump into the autobots. The bots look at them and their like this is our child now. Fight us their ours now. :)

(So sorry person who originally asked this. I accidentally deleted it when trying to clean the inbox)

You got it! This will be a multipart series. Currently, only two parts are planned: this one and one where Silas gets his dues, but more can be added if requested.

~~ Mod Ohma ~~

tw: abuse, neglect, mentions of torture, experimentation and death

The first thing she saw once she was out of the warehouse was green. There was so much, it made her head spin, and as she stumbled back, she could hear the guards yelling, signaling that the empty cell and dead guards. Pushing forward, she could hear the branches and fallen logs under her break as she vaulted over them, doing her best not to look, not to feel because if she did either, she’d certainly break down.

Finally, after what felt like both forever and a few seconds, she tripped and caught herself with her arms, forcing her to look at the white metal, at the dark grey blade she had tried so hard to pry off only to get shocks after shocks the second she had managed to get it away.

Her breath hitched and she could feel her eyes stinging. When she closed her eyes, her mechanical arms gave out, allowing her to collapse on the ground, sobbing in the new and confusion freedom she had found in the forest.

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She woke up to the ground shaking. Normally, she would’ve just gotten under the small bunk her father had given her, but as she rolled over, she had a stick whack her in her face, causing her to open her eyes and realize that the dream had not, in fact, been a dream.

She felt the vibrations stop and thought that it meant she was ok, that she could move, like all the other times, so she slowly stood up, grimacing at the state of her hospital gown. it was backward for the sake of her running away, but it was also too short, having been made for a kid rather than a tall teenager. Or, well, a robotically enhanced teenager.

She wasn’t sure if the sound she made was a choked laugh or a choked sob, but once it was out of her mouth, there was a tremor, and then another one. Looking around, she felt herself freeze up at the sight of the giant red and blue robot, who seemed just as shocked (well, perhaps a little bit more) as she was.

“Hello,” she rasped, feeling the headpiece attacked to her skull buzzing lightly as it forced information into her head. “I need your help, Optimus Prime. An enemy of MECH is a friend of mine.”

“What did MECH want from you?” He rumbled, and she knew that this was the make or break moment.

“My name is Phoebe Leah Bishop, daughter of Leland Bishop, and he was the one who did this to me. He wanted a techno-organic, a supersoldier for his stupid war, and he decided that since I never agreed with him, he’d make me agree with him. I have no love for him, and all I can ask if that if you decline my help, then please, allow me to live in peace.”

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

She could feel their mistrust the second Prime made it known that she was sitting in his hands. Ratchet, the one MECH pegged as old and decrepit due to rarely being on the field, plucked her out of his grasp and took her over to the medical area, and she could feel the information rewriting itself.

“Scans indicate that your limbs have been replaced... and that this crown has been screwed onto your head,” he said, voice disgusted and aghast as she just shrugged.

“It’s not screwed in,” she corrected, unsure what to really say. “It’s sending information into my head whether I want it to or not, and I don’t think screws can do that.”

“Fraggers,” she heard Arcee mumble. “Can’t we rethink the no harming humans rule? Just this once?”

“No, Arcee,” Prime answered, sounding just as angry as the femme. “Miss Bishop-”

“Phoebe,” she interrupted. “Bishop reminds me of him.”

“Phoebe, what can you tell us of MECH’s plans?”

She found herself tilting her head, unknowingly tapping against the bed with her left hand. “I was the only prototype to survive the fifth surgery,” she said. “They started with our arms and made sure they were functional before turning to our legs. Two didn’t survive that surgery. After that, they wanted to make sure we would be able to use those blue crystals as a type of fuel source if we didn’t have food on us, so they went in and completely changed our digestive system. Twenty died on the table, another seven having complications afterward. We had to have our strength enhanced, so they inserted a chip at the base of our neck to control our muscles beyond the limits our brains set. Three died on the table, four died off when their muscles ripped them in half. Five survived to the fifth surgery, which was to implant an information node. Mine’s all fancy because I was supposed to be Daddy’s Little Leader.”

The yellow one, Bumblebee, let out a series of beeps that had her furrowing her brows and tilting her head. “I agree,” the green one, Bulkhead, growled. “We should be out here making sure this doesn’t happen again, Optimus.” There was a silence as Prime looked at her with an... odd expression before motioning for everyone to follow him out of the medbay area. Ratchet was the last one to leave, and even then, he looked back.

“Are... am I allowed to stay?” She hated how insecure she sounded, how insecure she felt, but being here, it felt nice.

“You’re more than allowed to stay, youngling,” he promised her before walking out as well, leaving her to curl up on the bed and ignore the pain slowly building up in her hips.

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How I imagine what Phoebe looks like:

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Oh Brother (Connor x Reader x Nines)

if y’all wanna read more about this scenario, let me know or send suggestions. i’d be more than happy to write some rk sandwich action

Your head felt as if it was splitting in two. A resounding pain shot through your skull as you pitifully struggled to move. It proved to be more difficult than expected once you discovered you wrists and ankle to be bound with zip-ties.

A dangerous cocktail of adrenaline and fear coursed through you as you thrashed wildly against your confines. The hard plastic cut into your flesh, but with some effort (albeit it tumultuous) you managed to sit up against a nearby wall. It felt cool against your back - metal maybe? You could only rely on touch - the room was pitch black save for a slither of light coming from the bottom of the door.

Before you could attempt to crawl over and further investigate, it slid open. You winced, momentarily blinded. A familiar voice cut through the darkness - relief flooded you.

“Detective?” Connor called out tentatively; you couldn’t hold back a sob.

“Connor! Holy shit, thank god,” you cried, desperately trying to move towards him so you could be freed. Whatever brought you here, you could figure it out later. From the safety of the station. Right now you just wanted the use of your limbs again.

He rushed to your side, helping you back into a sitting position. “Easy detective, I haven’t had a chance to scan you for possible injuries yet,” he instructed softly. You shook your head.

“I’m fine, my head just hurts. I think I was knocked out.” Connor nods, but analyzes you regardless.

“Can you remember what happened,” he asks nonchalantly. His hands are on your shoulders, a firm but gentle grip.

“I-I don’t...it’s fuzzy. But I was on a stakeout with-“ you hesitate to say his name. “With N-Nines,” you manage to sputter.

Nines.

Connor’s self-proclaimed brother. You’ve always felt apprehensive about him in contrast to his predecessor. Connor was gentle, from the way he looked to how he spoke. He was comfort in human form - he exuded a sense of safety.

But Nines...whenever you were around him you would always feel that piercing, cold stare on you.

Always watching.

Shortly after his arrival, you had quickly been assigned to him and Fowler would hear none of your complaints. The android seemed to enjoy micromanaging you - controlling you. If you put yourself in any capacity of danger, he would remove you from the situation immediately.

He claimed your “percentages of survival” were astronomically low. You started to think that his behavior was outside the realms of his programming

It left a bad taste in your mouth.

Connor waited for you to continue, but all you wanted to do was leave. “I thought I heard our target, in an alley. Nines told me to investigate,” which you found odd, considering past experience. But eager to finally get some action, you happily disregarded it.

“Then everything went black. The guy probably got the jump on me. Took me here, wherever here is, before Nines had the chance to follow. Has to be another android to outrun Nines,” you explain. Connor nods, possibly humoring the idea.

“We can figure it out later Connor, I want to get out of here, please,” you pleaded, wriggling your wrists to try and loosen them.

Why hasn’t he cut me loose yet?

Blood trickles down your hands, digging the plastic deeper into your skin. Connor holds your arms to prevent you from harming yourself. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Brother was right about you. I tried to warn him, advise him that he wasn’t thinking clearly. But it turns out it was an error in my systems, not his,” he muses.

You feel as if you’d been shot in the chest.

“Connor, w-what are you talking about?” Your heart is thrumming loudly in your ears. Connor had never been one for jokes, but you prayed today was when he started. 

He regards you sadly. “He told me you were a danger to yourself, and right now I can see why,” he swipes at the blood cooling against your palms. Bringing his fingers up to his lips, pressing them to the tip of his tongue. “So sweet, but it still pains me to see.”

Nausea hits you, and at this point you’re too scared to move. You have absolutely no idea what’s going on. This is the most undiluted, raw moment of fear you’ve ever felt in your life.

An icy breeze comes in the form of Nines, statuesque and fierce as he stands in the doorframe. “I told you, little brother, I was right all along,” he says smugly, earning a scowl from his “little brother.”

“I just wanted to be sure your anxieties weren’t misplaced,” Connor bites back. Both their LEDs are glowing a stark red. “Did you have to be so rough with her?” Nines scoffs, fed up with Connor’s petulance, and shrugs an apology. They then both turn to you, silent tears trailing down your cheeks.

Connor wipes some away with the pad of his thumb. “I know this is all a tad overwhelming darling,” he begins.

“We just want to keep you safe.” Nines interjects, stepping closer to you despite your flinching. “We agreed that we could both have you,” he purrs lasciviously.

“Nothing will ever harm you ever again,” they both whispered, a hand on each of your shivering thighs as you feel the walls closing in.

-Mod Vic

[antisocialxconstruct]

this is technically two different fics stitched together but they’re related and @axperjan posted the first part of this which means I can post it now with the Proper Context (seriously go read theirs too it’s so good oh my god)

~2.8k, Shiloh confides in Zaven about some regrettable choices

-//-

Your face still feels weird once you get your lip sewn up, the localized numbness making your features seem distorted when you press your fingers experimentally against the skin. Still, you know it's a far cry from the discomfort of actually feeling the stitches. Hopefully the painkillers will kick in before you have to worry about that.

You and Zaven have lapsed into a comfortable silence now that they're busying themself with the regenerator documents, so you shift your attention to the disassembled pieces of Anathema's armor, still in a heap where you left them because that wasn't the most pressing thing on your mind when you arrived at the base. Now you stoop to collect the components, giving each a quick inspection before carrying them to the storage crate where they belong. You took pretty minimal damage, all told, so you don’t think a full diagnostic is in order yet and the scratches can be buffed out later. But-

You pause when you pick up the gauntlets. The left one is smeared with blood, brown and flaking by now, and for a second you can't remember how that even happened.

Then you do remember.

You remember that the nanovores didn't care about the blood, just the metal and electronics beneath it. You remember the first guard was screaming, before you muted the audio receptors in your helmet. You remember the second guard's skull buckled slightly as the nanovores worked, and you thought he must have had more mods than you realized. You remember looking down at both of them, what was left of them, and thinking that was a hell of a way to die.

You remember one of them still had the strength to look back at you.

Oh.

Did you…? was that…?

The sharp clatter of the armored glove hitting the ground jars you back to reality. It also draws Zaven's attention, and you hear a quiet "you okay?" behind you. You take a slow breath through your nose, not trusting yourself to answer as you feel your stomach turn. You really don't want to vomit with your lip still raw.

Instead you scan your workstation, then turn around with a spike of annoyance when you remember that you threw your cigarettes at Zaven earlier. They'd said something stupid, it had been funny at the time. Now your ears are ringing and your hands feel clammy and you have to ignore the way Zaven's mild curiosity sharpens into concern when you stalk over to their table, grab the pack, and turn on your heel just as quickly to head further into the base.

"I'm gonna get changed," you mutter. Zaven doesn't say anything back but you're sure you can feel their eyes on you until you duck out of sight.

---

This is routine. This is normal.

That's always been enough to get you through the day to day. This is what you do. You go where you're told, you do what you're told. It's familiar, predictable.

Something is off.

You start counting your own footsteps as you walk, try to ground yourself before your mind starts to wander. Tap tap tap tap. Six seven eight nine. Heels sound different on pavement than flats do. Harder to go undetected. But that's what they gave you so that's what you wore.

("No, no, something shorter. We want her to be charming, not intimidating.")

You shake your head and lose your count. It wasn't even the most interesting conversation happening in that room. You weren't supposed to be listening in on that one, but it's not your fault. They taught you to watch people's body language, listen to shifts in tone. They taught you to notice people keeping secrets. Someone had doubts, thought the target was too sensitive to risk on an unblooded agent. "Not up to the task," they said, and at first you had that sinking fear that they were talking about you (and you’re good, you’re efficient, you don’t want to disappoint them), before they brought the other one in.

The other one. The other operative, the other telepath. You don't have a better label for them in your mind. They don't have a name, of course, and no one will even tell you their internal designation. Just call signs, code names, temporary IDs that get stripped and forgotten as quickly as they come. You shouldn't need anything more than that. Anything to get attached to. You called them your partner, once, after your third time working together. Your handlers made it clear they didn't appreciate the sentiment. You didn’t do it again.

They looked… what was that expression, exactly? Hesitant. Uncertain. Just under the surface, just a flicker behind the eyes. You wonder if anyone else even saw it, but you didn't say anything to anyone about it. You probably should have.

It was enough to spark the unease that settled like a stone in your stomach, lingering when the two of you split up, lingering while you stood watch, gently redirecting people with a smile and the subtlest mental nudge. Lingering even now, as you follow the thin thread of the other agent's mind because you felt the exact moment something shifted and you know something is off.

---

Zaven still doesn't say anything for the next two days, although you've been sticking close to each other a bit more than usual. You tell yourself it's because your identity is compromised, that you might need the backup if Argent decides not to hold up her end of the deal. The truth is you both seem a little shaken by the events of that night at the casino, and you might not know what's on Zaven's mind but you know what's on yours.

"There’s… a difference between killing and getting people killed.” It had been late, something about the darkness and the humidity and the distant sounds of the city had given Zaven’s words an added layer of intensity. “All I’m saying is you might want to be careful with that line."

The conversation had come after you'd been working together long enough to understand each other's methods again, because they had changed significantly since the old days.

The Farm never made you kill anyone, although they made sure you knew how. Self defense. Emergency measures. You would have been subtle, efficient. It would be enough to keep their investment safe if you were threatened, but you were always just there to look pretty and watch and listen. Wet work was always someone else's responsibility, and yours was to stay out of trouble. And Sidestep certainly never killed anyone. It wouldn't do to attract too much attention from the authorities when you were trying to play for their side.

You had laughed off Zaven's warning at the time, because you'd never made that distinction yourself but if it meant they weren't going to criticize you for being reckless, for choosing an explosion over a power outage or making a playing field out of a three lane pile-up, for having a body count and not caring, that was just fine by you.

You'd never made that distinction, but you'd also never looked someone in the eye and then taken their life with your own hands. And now every time you close your eyes, and you’re confronted with the terrified stare of a man realizing he’s about to die, you understand… there is a difference.

--

It had to be you who checked. Practical. No verbal commands would have to be issued, no signals that could be intercepted. Reconvene, confirm success, rendezvous with the handlers.

It had to be you who checked, because if anyone else saw them like that, it would have endangered you both.

Not the body. Normal. You've never killed anyone but they taught you how to do it and how to recognize it. You don't need to get close enough to check for a pulse, because the mind is completely silent. This is no longer a person, it's a corpse.

Not the blood. Normal. People bleed. The cleaners will deal with it.

But the other agent. Their posture coiled and tense, their eyes wide as they turn to meet your gaze, and their expression… do you even have a word for that? This isn't an emotion you were taught to identify or emulate. This isn't normal.

"Don't… look."

Their voice is so weak, and it's not the right response at all, and you can't stop looking because they're the one thing here that's wrong and in your head you're willing them to put themself right. Calm down. Obey the protocol. Follow the routine. But their fear is infectious and you can feel your own composure fraying. You don't move. You don't speak. You can't, won't, until you know you can trust yourself to make the right choice.

Then they say it again, a quiet desperate plea of "please… don't look," and it's the push you need.

You breathe in sharply, tear your eyes away from them to do a brief inventory of the scene. Focus. No witnesses. No collateral. Minimal evidence. You just need the verbal confirmation. That's protocol. You fix your gaze on the ground in front of you next, because they taught you that was a good way to center yourself. Demure, unassuming.

You just need the verbal confirmation. Maybe they need a reminder, a nudge to get them back on-script.

"Is… the target..?" Your voice is steadier than you expected but you can still hear it trembling. Just a little. Can they hear it too?

“The target has been handle-” (No. That’s wrong.) “Terminated.”

You look up, because there's another shift in the atmosphere then. A door closed and locked. A frayed edge snipped. A distance growing as you both clamp down on whatever just passed between you.

Good.

You straighten your shoulders with a curt nod. This. This is normal. Routine. "Disposal will be here in five," you say, turning away at last.

--

“This view really does suck.”

You glance over your shoulder as Zaven steps out past the glass door to join you on the balcony and pauses for a second to take in the sight. Your apartment is right on the edge of an industrial district, your view is mostly warehouses. While their attention is elsewhere you shift your weight slightly, use the toe of your shoe to hide the three burned down cigarettes already crushed at your feet although there’s not much you can do about the one still in your hand. You don’t think they’re likely to start lecturing you on that, but you did mention in passing that you might quit and you’re acutely aware of what a piss-poor job your doing.

“I told you,” you sigh, fixing your eyes on the skyline. “At least it’s…” you end the sentence with a vague gesture, encompassing the general idea of your surroundings. “It’s quiet.” It isn’t, really, at this hour of the afternoon the city is still lively enough, the air filled with the sounds of wind and traffic and people living their lives, all underscored by the distant cries of the gulls on the coast. But it’s a city-quiet that you’ve come to appreciate over the years, because 'quiet' is different from 'silent.' It’s a reminder that there's a world around you, but distant enough from the people and the lives they’re living that you can lock them out of your head with minimal effort.

Zaven’s only response is to settle back against the railing and silently allow the moment to settle over both of you. You know this technique by now, a wordless signal for when words don’t seem appropriate or necessary. I can tell something’s bothering you, and I’m not going to ask but I’m here if you want to talk. The audacity would bother you more if they weren’t right every damn time.

You still don’t talk, not right away. Not until you’ve smoked that fourth cigarette down to the filter and you’re still feeling jittery. “Zaven I-” the words start tumbling out and then get caught in your throat just as quickly. You swallow and try again. “I think I really messed up.”

There’s a moment where you can feel Zaven’s eyes on you as they hesitate. Weighing your words. Weighing their reaction. “... What do you mean?” they ask, settling for a sober tone. You almost wish they’d made a joke instead.

You breathe in. Out. It doesn’t help. “I- I just… I don’t know, at the time it seemed like… I knew they’d try to stop me. Keep me from… I had a goal, I couldn’t let them get in the way.”

Another moment’s hesitation. Silence. “Shiloh,” Zaven shifts, leans toward you ever so slightly and you push yourself away from the railing in the same instant. You don’t even know if they were going to reach out for you but you put a few feet of space between you anyway. “Tell me what happened.”

“I mean you were there.” You try to laugh, but it sounds a little more frantic than you’d like. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering despite the sun bearing down on you. “I guess you were a little busy. But it made sense. It made sense. We needed the regenerator, it was just simpler to ki-”

The word sticks to your tongue and you grimace like it left a bad taste, but you still feel the sudden spike of emotion when Zaven realizes what you’re saying. Of course. They’re not stupid, of course they could fill in the blank. You finally meet their gaze then, and distantly you wonder if the shock in their eyes is at all reflective of the fear in yours.

You tear your eyes away again. Your nails feel like claws against your scalp as you drag your hands through your hair. “I don’t get it, it shouldn’t- it shouldn’t matter.” You have to keep talking before they say anything. You know yourself, if you let them ask you questions you’ll get defensive, you’ll shut down. One more ragged breath, in and out. You can feel yourself wavering on the edge of a steep drop and your composure is crumbling beneath you, and you’re gambling with every word but you can’t stop. “I never cared before, and now I can’t stop- I keep- the way he looked at me, it… why is this different?” Zaven’s taken a cautious step toward you when you look up again, but they’re still keeping their distance because they don’t know what you need. You don’t know either, but there’s a pleading edge to your gaze now because what you want is an explanation, a fix, you want to be able to shrug this off and carry on like you always have. “Why is it different if they look at you..?”

Zaven doesn’t have an explanation. They don’t have a fix. They close the last bit of distance then, careful, like they’re approaching an injured animal, and when they do reach out toward you you don’t pull away but you do stiffen under the touch, the hand on your shoulder is warm but it’s heavy. Maybe they might have held you if you let them, but the signal is clear enough. Too close. Too much.

“I’m sorry.” That was your voice, wasn’t it? You’re not sure if Zaven is struggling to find words or if you’re just too anxious to fill the silence for them to have a chance. You’re not even sure why you’re apologizing.

“For-” Zaven tilts their head, letting their hand fall away as they study you for a second with a furrowed brow. “For what?”

And then you know exactly why you’re apologizing. Younger, softer. A dark alley, hands red, eyes wide, an expression you didn’t know then. They didn’t teach you that. But now- “You… you were so afraid. I didn’t care, I just- I didn’t want to get in trouble. I didn’t want you to get in trouble, I just wanted everything to go how it was supposed to.”

It takes a second for Zaven to catch up. Then you see it. The moment they understand, they remember, their expression crumbling under a sudden wave of sympathy. “Oh… Shiloh you-”

“I didn’t get it,” you insist, because you didn’t, you couldn’t, and you need them to know that. “I didn’t- I was scared too but I didn’t have to push you like that. Maybe things would have been different if I had- if I hadn’t cared so much about protocol, if I could have-” you falter, finally feel the vertigo you were bracing for as your words break apart into a choked sob.

The pained frown is still settled over Zaven’s features as they hold your gaze, and this time you’re the one who leans in, wraps your arms around them and buries your face in their chest because you can’t, you can’t look them in the eye when you’re this soft, this unguarded.

“I’m so sorry.”

One arm around your shoulders. One hand at the back of your head. Careful, gentle. You’re not trapped, you could pull away if you wanted to. You don’t.

“It’s not your fault, Shiloh.”

[space-blue]

The Hound of Arnas

My ports disengage, returning me to consciousness. I stay on my back for a while, gaze turned inward, browsing through the nets. While my body warms I review the datafeeds I requested before going to sleep. Soon there is nothing for me to do but roll out of my dingy alcove, one in many in this shabby plug-a-night for cyborgs and droids. No one pays me any mind as I amble through what passes as a lobby and step into the already busy street.

"Please, parts!" A hand grabs my coat. "Any parts you can spare, I beg you, for my child, all his ports are outdated, he can't link, ple–"

The beggar clamps her mouth shut the moment she realises what she is talking to, her dull eyes already hunting for more pliable targets. Smart woman. She will sooner convince an AI to donate parts off its droid body than the likes of me, and she knows it. Shells don't have parts to give. We're bio-engineered integral cyborgs. Expensive models like mine are even grown with full DNA print. Parts tailored for me in a body as perfect as one can dream. If I chopped my right hand and gave it away, no one else could use it.

However, getting this close to godhood comes with a sixty years binding contract, which is why I'm walking the trash ridden streets of an off-grids slum doing a bloodhound's job. Looking for a human here like a needle in a smelly haystack.

The first two days I spent along the dark sea and the beach–the rocky expense that once held sand, that we still call beach–where workers on long rafts poled their way through the mass of seaweeds they turn into fuel. I could have been done in half a day, talking to supervisors, or the AIs that regulate our dead ocean's shallows. But unlike its simulations, the sea has a smell and a taste, almost a presence. It fascinated me, so I took my time.

Today I walk away from the shore. I've decided to talk to locals or else I'll be here until I catch the carbon plague.

My legs take me past triage factories, down streets smelling of rancid grease, where mechanics bend over patrons' cybernetic limbs, bartering their services, weaving through cables like jungle creepers, children running past yelling the names of parts they sell; ports, encrypted 9G cards, 5D sticks, or accessory mods. Soon the street dissolves in a wider field. I scramble partway up a metal gangway that wraps around a building to the roofs. From there I can see, sprawled at my feet, the buzzing activity of the Mud-Market. Cyborg modders with four arms selling flatbreads faster than they can turn them. People sitting on crates half sunk in the eponymous mud, tearing at steamed bug-buns, furiously betting on some game only them can see. Others haggling over second-hand garments and scraps of food. Even a few ADroids weave through the crowds, projecting bright holos and loud slogans.

I sigh and sit heavily, my legs dangling over the tin roof of a partmonger. This wreathing mass of bodies discourages me, somehow. Resting my back to the wall, I turn inwards to log into official networks. I find a few agents in the area, and summon the closest, Agt. Edenton, an ID officer.

Before long, three kids come running out of the market, out of breath with laugher. I look down. One of them, a little blond fellow, doesn't register to my eyes. Unchipped. Or, more likely, never chipped: someone's illegal brood. Another has a cybernetic arm made of scraps. Both wave at the third, a black haired runt not possibly past seven, who leaves them to enter the street. The gangway quivers under me, heralding the kid's approach. He sits not far, flashes his credentials–this is indeed Edenton– and opens a private channel for us to discuss away from prying eyes or ears, for all the world just two strangers enjoying the view before them.

'What's a pricey Shell like you doin' here?'

I stifle a laugh. The voice that popped in my head is a deep man's bass, completely out of place coming from the scrawny boy. Edenton gives me a withering look, and I sober up as I realise what an ID officer's job would be, shelled as a kid. Hunt unchipped children like the one I'd seen, gain their trust, follow them home, have it tagged, maybe chip them himself. The kind of job you got because someone thought you deserved it...

I poke his arm, surprised to find him made out of regular flesh.

'Is this a BioShell? Aren't those pretty rare and pricey as well? Incubation is hard to do.'

Edenton's frail shoulders shrug. 'They make kids like me easily, they don't try for perfection. The body decays after a year, so we swap regularly. It's just a pain to be in a tube for two months while a new body grows around you.'

I'd shiver, if my body could.

To answer Edenton's own question, I display my working seals and credentials, and watch his eyes widen. A military Shell in the direct employ of Arnas CEO, wielding seals that give her unlimited power is a scary sight, I'm sure.

'This is Halena Tesselandottir,' I say, flashing pictures of a young woman. 'Used to live in the grids, legal as you please and pretty bigwigged. Took her chip off, came to those slums.' I wave my hand, letting Edenton imagine the sort of drama that could push someone to such extremes. 'Back then she was a modder.' Lists of parts and softwares join the pictures. 'Augmentations, but no cybernetic replacements. I'm pretty sure she downgraded, since many mods are trackable. She was spotted in this slum, so I was sent to find her. I'd like some help.'

An order dressed as a request that Edenton accepts with good graces. In no time he comes up with a cunning plan that won't damage his cover, and I mentally pat myself on the back for involving him.

We weave our way through narrow streets, continuing our secret dialogue. I learn that Edenton has been undercover in this slum for four years, and soon guess that he got there by asking too many questions. He's fourty-two, single, grumpy. We spend some time polishing our plot in a back alley. We'll need our public feeds to display some action to look credible.

Finally ready, I step into a wider street, Edenton's weightless body cradled in my arms, and stumble towards an older woman, busy smoking in front of a brothel. Edenton's notion being that such Madams know everything, and everyone.

"Seima," I call, picking her name from her public feed, "this kid just crashed into me. He banged his head hard..."

Seima rushes up to us with a face like Edenton is her own grandchild. She looks at me with narrowed eyes. Can't blame her for mistrusting a Shell in a muddy coat, but my public feed has a record of the entire "incident" we orchestrated, and Edenton moans, the voice passing his lips a mewling so pitiful that I stare as well. His feed flashes with one of the pictures of Halena I gave him.

"He's been showing that image the whole time, could it be his mother? If you know her, maybe I could leave him to you..."

It's the magical words. Trying to shirk my responsibilities, am I? She'll find the boy's mom in no time, she swears, and furiously propagates Halena's picture through her personal network. Finding where Halena (or Hena, as she now goes by) works is a matter of minutes. The hardest part of the job is to pry Madam Seima off Edenton.

Out of sight I put him back on his legs, and we hurry to intercept Halena before someone warns her that we've been asking after her.

It's almost too easy. She's exactly where we were told. Unchipped, so nearly impossible to track, she was betrayed by the simplest of human drives, everyone's inherent need to network and socialise.

Edenton's bass vibrates in my skull. 'What are you gonna do?'

He follows me over crumbled walls and up stairwells that lead us to a rooftop. Lying down, we can spy on Halena and her companions, sorting garbage, probably paid by the amount of recyclable they can sift.

I scan her face, still young, but scarred by the mods she took off her temples and neck, as I'd guessed. I extend my arm, fingers splayed, lock, breathe out, and fire. My shoulder joint shifts, swallows the recoil. People scream, run to cover. Edenton jumps, grabs me with his little hands. In the street her blood flows, joining the streams of dark fluids down the gutter. Half her head is gone.

"Why," Edenton cries. "What did she do to deserve that?!"

"I never asked," I reply, "and neither should you."

~~ April 2016 – Theme : Dystopia  – Don't want to toot my own horn, but this story marks one year and one month of writing, and the progress is rather evident. It is my favourite of my older pieces.

[ashglory-writes]

another heart’s asylum - chapter 1/10

Who’s ready for a good old-fashioned bodyswapping adventure???  A huge shoutout to Rana​ for looking this over for me, thank you so much!!

[Read it on AO3] - | Next Chapter

~ 2.8k words, rated T, f/f Chargestep (Serena/Julia), contains spoilers for Retribution!

What would you do if you woke up in your girlfriend's body? Hopefully the same thing you would do if you woke up in your enemy's. Otherwise, you might have a problem on your hands.

As it so happens, Julia Ortega has a problem. So does Serena Basri.

There's a vise strangling Serena's spine when she wakes. The pain reaches down to the bone.

This is agony she hasn't felt since Heartbreak – or rather, its aftermath. Nothing has ever hurt as much as that year she spent in 'recovery' after the Farm doctors removed her pain-gate.

To this day she doesn't know if it was punishment for her first escape, or if it had just been so damaged by the fall that its removal was a necessity. All that matters is that they hadn't given it back; that even if it was not meant as punishment at first, that is what its absence had amounted to in the end.

Sleep's haze lifts from her mind, already racing. Wrongness prickles at her thoughts. There's something off about everything here: situation, location, her own self.

Observations swarm like flies around a carcass: the too-soft and too-warm mattress; her arms, longer than they should be; the glint of metal out of the corner of her eye; the shape of her body, soft where it shouldn't be and dramatic in its curves and angles; but worst, and most damning of all, is the silence.

It's not the smothering blanket of telepathic dampeners, nor is it the round-cornered smog that comes from anti-telepathy drugs. She's experienced both forms often enough to be certain. This is just pure, knife-like absence.

It's not unlike being in her puppet's body, especially that first time she slipped into Eden's unpolished, granite-grit shell. But Eden's body is broken in like a new pair of shoes now, worn soft and comfortable, flexible, almost as if it were her own.

It's disconcerting that she's ended up in someone's body without knowing how. But Serena can sort out the how and the why of it all later, in her own body. Away from this pain.

So she closes her eyes, and prepares to loose her soul from this shell...

And nothing happens.

She opens her eyes, staring down at a pair of hands that aren't hers but are intimately familiar nonetheless. Revelation seeps through her mind like groundwater through earth as she registers the blots of silver and chrome peeking through the synthskin of her palms.

These are modded hands.

These are Julia's hands.

Serena's first instinct is to deny the absurdity. She can't be in Julia's body. It's just shouldn't happen.

She knows she has dreams. Some that seem impossible to disentangle from memory, that feel so real she has immediately check herself for injuries the instant she wakes. This is no dream.

Still, these are undeniably Julia's hands. When she cranes her head to look around, she begins to recognize the angles of Julia's bedroom, the stupid bedside lamp, the sleek carpet, the heavy curtains pulled shut over arching windows. Serena is in Julia's body, in her apartment– her life? Involuntary sparks dance up and down her fingers as her distress grows.

There's no trace of Julia's mind lurking in the corners. When Serena possesses people she quashes their thoughts under her own consciousness, but they don't just vanish. They're still there, thin and clinging to the inner walls of the skull, waiting for her permission to inhabit themselves again. The only time that she has ever been inside a truly silent mind is when she makes the jump into Eden's body, and even then she can still feel the indentations left in the brain from a lifetime of someone else's thoughts.

Search as she might, nothing feels odd about Julia's head. The same, however, can't be said about Julia's body.

Give the mind enough time and it can grow used to anything, even pain. That doesn't mean that it's vanished. Only that Serena has had time to adjust, and knows to brace for the flood of fire that spills out from her spine when she forces herself off the bed.

She doesn't have time for pain to hold her back. She's had to push past adjacent hurts before, and with even less on the line than what is at stake now. Because a sudden, terrifying, thought has just come to mind: if she is here, her mind in Julia's body, then where is Julia?

The simplest assumption is also the worst case scenario. She is in Julia's body. So if Julia is in hers...

Serena had been too tired last night, to do much more than peel herself out of Nihil's armor and collapse. Everything is out in the open in her hideout: her tools for working on the prototype regenerator; the nanovores; her notes, her plans, her schemes-

And worst of all, Serena herself. Her body.

Every emotion she's capable of feeling vanishes all at once, replaced by only dread. If Julia really is in her body, she has no more secrets to keep, no layer of deniability to hide behind. That thought terrifies her more than any other.

Plans overwrite plans in Serena's head. Everything at this point is only conjecture, but if there is any chance at all that it's true then she cannot leave it be. There will be a fallout, and she needs to be prepared to do damage control. And oh, she’s had so much practice at damage control, no time to rest between one crisis and the next.

So, step one: get in contact with Julia. Find out how much of the truth she knows, though Serena can't imagine that Julia won't have pieced together the entirety of it. Julia is ignorant, perhaps willfully, but she isn't stupid. Even she will have to accept the truth when she's forced to stare the ugly truth in the face.

The question, then, is: how does she do that?

Julia's brick of a mobile phone is easy enough to find, left charging by the bedside table. Serena hefts the thing in her hands, considering. Julia seems so confident that her apartment is untapped, unbugged. Secure. But a phone like this, carefully insulated against any flareups, has to be built to specification. And she knows that Julia uses it for Ranger business.

There's a high possibility that this phone is monitored. And if she calls Julia, who must be equally – if not more – bewildered at their circumstances, there's too high a chance that one of them will let something slip. Say something they shouldn't. Holding her tongue has never been one of Julia's strengths.

Serena growls to herself. Calling or texting is out of the question, and it's by very deliberate design that she hasn't left Julia another way to contact her.

That leaves one option. And that means Serena needs to get dressed.

As she staggers her way to the doors of Julia's closet, it's second nature by now to avert her eyes from the full-body mirror mounted to the wall next to the closet door. Still, skin flashes in the corner of her vision: deep tan, interrupted by pale streaks of scars.

No orange.

No orange, and it takes actual effort to shake herself out of the realization that this really isn't her body. That this is a human body, rugged and real. For the briefest instant she almost fools herself into believing that this could be her.

Then reality catches up to her, in the form of light winking off of silver rivets along Julia's body. Serena has to turn away from the mirror, something that tastes half like guilt sticking to the back of her tongue. Enough gawking at Julia's body, wishing that it really was hers.

Serena throws on the first set of clothes she gets her hands on, not bothering to make sure they go well together. It's Julia's closet; any old blouse and pair of pants should look nice enough. Habit has her shrugging on a jacket as well, unnerved by her shirt's short sleeves. All of this still feels too light, too exposed, but she's Julia now. And Julia Ortega isn't afraid of anything.

Mercifully, there's no one else in the apartment that's up and about save the doorman. It's early enough in the morning that she greets who she thinks is Julia with a yawn and a simple wave, content to leave it at that. Serena returns the greeting with a smile, hating how easily her mind conjures up Julia's guileless grins, how at home they feel on her face.

Public transportation is an unfortunate necessity that Serena doesn't like dealing with, even on her best days. This is... definitely not one of those. No matter if she's in Julia's body or not. Luckily, Julia's car keys sit heavily in her pocket, and somewhere in the years she's been gone, Julia swapped out her ostentatious sports car for something a little more subdued.

It's still a nice car, Serena thinks, sleek and shiny, because Julia doesn't settle for "serviceable" when she can have "great" – but what does that say about her? The way Julia sees her?

Serena's hands tighten around the steering wheel, her own upset electricity biting into her palms. With a grimace, Serena pushes that thought away. It's just one more to add to the avalanche of things she can't acknowledge if she's to preserve this tentative happiness between her and Julia.

Though once the dust of the current disaster settles, says a spiteful part of her that she just can't ever seem to silence, there may not be much of anything left to preserve.

A car like Julia's stands out in the suburbs. There's nothing to be done about that. All that Serena can do is drive out as far as she dares, and hope that there's nobody willing to brave the city's precarious, landslide-prone fringes this morning. Luck seems to be on her side today: the few people around seem to all have business elsewhere, and no one strays anywhere off-road. Still, she misses her telepathy deeply, unable to satisfy her paranoia by scanning the area for any too-curious minds.

The long drive over has wrung her out. The grating ache in her spine had proved impossible to ignore. She knows she makes jokes about Julia's age, but she hadn't expected this exhaustion. She refuses to let the emotion curling like wispy smoke through her gut be guilt.

So, deciding firmly to not be guilty, Serena climbs down into the labyrinthine tunnels that sprawl out beneath the outskirts of Los Diablos. She has business here.

Everything looks as she remembers, though there's precious little to be disturbed. On the one hand, it's a good sign that nobody has traced her back to this entrance. But on the other, it means nothing; there are dozens of pathways all leading to her hideout, her sanctuary. Julia could have left through any one of them and she would be none the wiser.

Serena picks up the pace. Her footsteps echo through narrow corridors. While she likes to wander, normally, she cuts through the passageways as fast as she can now. The twists and corners are as familiar as breathing, but Serena doesn't make for the main entrance. The path she ends up on is slightly more circuitous than she would prefer, but she can't rely on the main doors being accessible. A side entrance, just one of many potential escape paths, is what she needs.

At last she reaches her destination: a broken down chamber attached to the water plant. It may have been a garage at some point, perhaps, but what matters is that the walls have decayed enough that there's space for her to slip into the main building, even accounting for Julia's excess of height.

The lights are off, though grimy sunlight streams in through the high open windows of the power plant. It's no worse than the tunnels, and just enough to barely see by, though everything within is cast in dim shadow. Serena hesitates when she fully squeezes through the gap.

With the benefit of, quite literally, a new perspective, her lair reminds her of Heartbreak. Musty, broken things scattered about everywhere, and a bitter foreboding that hangs in the heavy air, perceptible even without telepathy. Is this what she's been surrounding herself with?

No. Stop. Focus. So many thoughts she needs to pack away, to ignore for now – or, preferably, forever.

So Serena takes a breath, and calls out into the solemn quiet, "Julia?"

No answer. But her ears catch on a breath of a sound, the barest hint of soft cloth shuffling against cloth. Then breath after ragged breath. She immediately snaps her head in the direction of the noise, scanning the gloom for its source.

There, by her workstation: the silhouette of a lump of a person rather than an actual person, curled in a fetal position, arms wrapped around the head. Serena begins approaching gingerly.

"Julia, can you hear me?" she tries again. It must be disconcerting to hear your own voice speaking to you, and Julia has even less frame of reference for this sort of thing than Serena herself does. She doesn't know how much of Julia's instincts or her own remain, coiled tight and waiting like the tension in a spring, so she moves slowly, so as not to jostle the hornet's nest. Caution is her ally here.

It's not until she's right up next to her own- Julia's- her body that she recognizes what's happening. She has to forgive herself a little, for taking so long; she's never seen this from the outside before. The Farm had always taken care to separate the telepaths from each other when one of them was showing weakness. Breaking down.

For once, Serena's thankful for the blank silence in Julia's head. The same void that she had cursed many times over the years now wraps her in a blanket of immunity. Otherwise...

Serena's never really stopped to take stock of just how much her powers have grown, especially in the wake of Heartbreak. A telepath's instinct tells her that if she weren't in Julia's body right now, her mind would be pulped like an orange just from proximity. No wonder everyone had been avoiding her hideout; self-preservation works even when you don't know what it is you're running from.

But Serena knows what she's facing. And she knows she's not fleeing.

Seeing herself laid low like this leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth. It's not any easier than when she had to have Eden stitch her up after a fight gone wrong. Somehow, it feels worse, actually.

Is it because it's Julia shivering on the ground, and not you?

Serena's gotten adept at ignoring her own thoughts. She can't afford to have Julia collapse in on herself, in Serena's body, under the sudden deluge of new powers beyond her ability to control. The ship has long since sailed on pretending that she only wants Julia to calm down to avoid any irreparable damage to her own body.

So she kneels down by Julia's hunched form, pushing past the way her spine protests the motion. Gingerly, tentatively, she rests a hand on Julia's shoulder. Only a thin nanomesh suit separates skin from skin. She holds steady through the full-body shudder that shakes through Julia's entire body.

"Listen to my voice," Serena begins, keeping her tone soft. She doesn't think that conscious thought is close enough to the surface for Julia to be able to understand her words. But from past experience, she knows that her overloaded brain will latch onto the comforting thought-void static, the warm murmur of soft nonsense.

"It will feel like an ocean, at first. Like you're drowning in it..."

Step by step, she talks Julia back from the brink. In the absence of telepathy, she can only rely on how Julia trembles beneath her palm. The shaking that was almost violent dies down as she speaks, slows. Julia's ragged breaths evens out.

And at last, she stops shaking. Serena lets her words trail off, though she keeps her hand where it is. Solid, tangible, real.

Julia cracks an eye open. Then the other. Something akin to vertigo sweeps through Serena when she stares into her own green eyes. There's a consciousness behind them that's not her own, and a part of her wants to recoil at the primal, visceral revulsion that the thought conjures.

She watches Julia lick her lips. Her voice comes out as half a whisper, hollowed out. "...Serena?"

Swallowing against the tension, Serena nods. "It's me, Julia."

Julia stares at her blankly in the face for a moment. Then she looks down to her arms, the way the sleeve of skinsuit is pulled up just enough to-

Serena grits her teeth, eyes flickering away when she catches a glimpse of orange streaks. Her eyes come to rest on her armor, lying dismantled by the workstation. Nihil's distinctive helmet lies on a bench, blueprints and maps and all other manner of clues scattered on the tables like fallen leaves.

Her stomach clenches. And then so does her heart, when she sees Julia follow her gaze, and how the puzzle pieces itself together in Julia's head.

Damage control, Serena reminds herself. She's good at that, if nothing else.

But nothing prepares her for the sheer depth of fury in Julia's eyes, nor the despair in her voice, when Julia asks, "Serena, what the hell is this?"

[ask-the-phan-site]

The Cruel Copy of Greed

>It’s time.

Let’s spin it out!

You’re speaking my language, mate.

I didn’t know that Monsuno was a language.

Dax: It’s not.

Either way, this is going to be fun.

Then off we go!

>With that, Mona becomes our van. We drive off with Dax on his motorcycle to steal the heart of Six.

>At the top of the Clock Tower of Greed, the Captor Spider was waiting for us. Zen was still looked in its tank.

Zen! We’re here!

Rei, be careful! Six has made the security here very high.

Don’t worry. We’re used to this sort of thing.

It’s gonna be difficult, though. Last time we had to fight that thing, we had to do it leg by leg.

Oracle: It shouldn’t be too hard if we divide up the work.

We’ll do that. Me and Yosuke can handle the Lightning Leg.

Yosuke: Right, let’s do this together, partner.

Mona: I think me and Panther can help you.

If I help you, will you give me a discount at Junes? Just kidding.

Yosuke: Good, I’ve already given Chie too many discounts.

I will deal with the Blazing Leg.

If ya Freeze it, me and Crow will shatter it.

I’m set and ready to go.

I’ll help, too.

I can handle the Freezing Leg. I have plenty of those Pumpkin Bombs you got from your friend in New York.

I can help you.

/And me and Labrys will deal with the Whirlwind Leg.

Good. I’ve been meaning to know what kind of Shadow we’re dealing with.

Joker: That just leaves me, Dax, Charade, and Rei to deal with the main body.

Good. I’ve been itching to get on with it.

Rei: I’ve been improving on my Kido skills.

So me and Oracle will make sure no other Shadows don’t interfere.

Here we go! It’s showtime!

NOTE: This fight can go on for awhile. So we’ll fast forward to the end.

>After a most grueling battle, the Captor Spider was now on its last leg.

Yu: Now Rei chan, finish it!

Rei: Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly the wrath of your claws. Hadō #33. Sōkatsui!

>A blast of blue flames comes out of Rei’s hand and at the Captor Spider. With that, the beast was gone and Zen was free.

Rei: ZEN!

Zen: REI!

>The two ran to each other and embraced each other.

Rei: (crying) Zen, I missed you so much.

Zen: (also having tears of his own) I missed you, too, Rei.

Dax: Mission accomplished, eh?

Skull: Not yet. We still need to get the Treasure.

Zen: He’s right. Not to mention that Klarion’s curse keeps me trapped in my Gigai which was altered to look like Six.

Queen: If we take his Treasure, it should get Six to stay quiet enough to find a way to get Zen back to his Soul form.

Crow: Oralce, Mona, can you find Six’s Treasure?

Oracle: I’m getting a signal. And it’s strong.

Mona: She’s right. I can feel it, too...

It’s real close!

?????? ???: You are right on track.

>Someone comes out of the shadows.

Looking for this?

>Shadow Six holds up a cane with with a gold handle and a red ruby on it.

Don’t get too attached to that. In a minute, that thing is going to be ours.

Shadow Six: Is it now?

Zen: Six, why do you do this? You know that man doesn’t love you. He may have given you life, but not one worth living.

Shadow Six: But he does love me. He gave me life twice. You should know, he used you to bring me back.

Zen: Because to him, you’re just another object he can own. Another expendable soldier just to take down Chase Suno and his friends.

Dax: He’s got a point there, mate. I’m one of those friends.

Yu: Zen is our friend who has an existence of his own. Your father had no right to take it.

Aigis: But we will take it back.

Rei: That’s right. Me and Zen are going home together!

Shadow Six: Are you sure? You will not find it so easy. I have my Monsuno ready for this.

>Shadow Six takes out a Core. Dax takes out his own.

Shadow Six: Fool, in my world, my Monsuno is too powerful for you.

Dax: We’ll see about that.

Shadow Six: I will not let this happen. My father will change this world. He will make this into his image and bring greatness.

Wolf: That’s not how Dax and his friends see it. Your ‘father’ wants to rule this world with an iron fist. We may not be able to take his heart, but we can sure take yours.

Crow: I know that you’re secretly suffering, Six san. Believe me, I know what it’s like to have a father like that.

Noir: As do I. So please, don’t let him take control of your life like this.

Skull: They’re right. We have a friend who was in a similar situation as yours.

Violet: I believe that maybe fate wanted you to come back only to see the truth. Emmanuel Klipse is no father to you... He’s not your father at all.

Aigis: You may have been created from his DNA, but he treats as no son of his.

Shadow Six: He is only trying to keep me from being soft.

Yu: No, he is only trying to keep you from having any true emotions of your own.

Charade: A true family would treat you with the love and respect someone as young as you need. Dr. Klipse only treats you like just some toy.

Joker: But we’re here to change all that. We will change your heart...

You will see the truth.

Shadow Six: ... So be it. But only if you defeat... Me and my Monsuno. Demise, Launch!

>Shadow Six launches his Core.

Dax: Bioblaze, Launch!

>Dax launches his Core. The moment they both collided, their Monsuno burst forth.

Oracle: This looks bad. Better 1UP it.

>Oracle goes Ultimate.

Oracle: PERSONA!

>Prometheus scans the Monsuno known as Demise.

Oracle: I’m not getting any weaknesses, But you might have a chance with Ice and Bless Skills.

Fox: I guess that means I’m up.

Violet: I’ll still let Sophie go on.

Sophie: I won’t disappoint.

Fox: Then let’s get started.

>Fox goes Ultimate.

Fox: PERSONA!

Sophie: Persona!

>I change Personas.

Joker: Persona!

(Insert song: Nothing is Promised)

>Demise uses Heat Charge to charge its attack. Bioblaze uses Frost Chill (Mabufula). It did major damage. Kamu Susano-o uses Masukukaja. Pandora uses Marakunda. Sraosha uses Kougaon. Demise uses Jaw of Fire on Dax. Because it was Fire-based attack, he was knocked down. Demise then uses Heat Wave. Dax gets back up and Bioblaze uses Wave Cutter. Kamu Susano-o uses Bufudyne. Pandora uses Kougaon. So does Sraosha. Demise uses Heat Spikes (Agilao) on me. Bioblaze uses Frost Chill. Demise was Frozen. Kamu Susano-o uses Rising Slash. Demise shatters. Pandora uses Kougaon. So does Sraosha. Demise uses Jaw of Fire on me. I become Burned. Bioblaze uses Terror Bullets. Kamu Susano-o uses Bufudyne. Pandora uses Kougaon.

Oracle: Super move! Ultra Charge!

>Prometheus uses Charge and Concentrate on us. Sraosha uses Kougaon. The Burn eats away at my health. Demise uses Lava Breath (Maragidyne). Dax dodges it. Fox is knocked down. Demise then simply attacks Fox. Dax uses an Extinguish Orb on me. Kamu Susano-o uses Masukukaja. Sophie uses a Kongou Ofuda. Sraosha uses Debilitate. Demise uses Heat Charge. Bioblaze uses Frost Chill. Demise becomes Frozen. Kamu Susano-o uses Rising Slash. Demise shatters and is now weaker. Pandora uses Kougaon. It was very strong. Sraosha also uses Kougaon.

Shadow Six: The Monsuno my father has given me is more powerful than you can imagine. You will not find it so easy. Demise, Show them your great power!

>Demise uses Desperation. Bioblaze uses Frost Chill. Kamu Susano-o uses Bufudyne. Pandora uses Kougaon. So does Sraosha. Demise uses Heat Wave. Sophie and I dodge it. Bioblaze uses Energy Launch (Megidola). Kamu Susano-o uses Bufudyne. Pandora uses Kougaon. I shoot my gun. Demise uses Lava Breath. Dax and Fox both get knocked down. Dax gets back up and uses a Idaten Ofuda. Fox gets back up and uses Master Curry. Sophie uses a Rasetsu Ofuda. I use a Kongou Ofuda. Demise tries to attack Sophie, but she dodges it. Bioblaze uses Frost Chill. Demise becomes Frozen. Kamu Susano-o uses Deadly Fury. Demise shatters and is now really weak. Pandora uses Kougaon. Sraosha does the same. Demise just hesitates. Bioblaze uses Dual Blasts (Megido). Kamu Susano-o uses Bufudyne. Demise becomes Frozen. Sophie uses her yo-yos and and shatters Demise. Sraosha uses Kougaon. Demise uses Fire Orb (Agidyne) on Fox. He is knocked down. Demise then uses Jaw of Fire on me. I get Burned. Dax uses an Extinguish Orb on me. Fox gets back up and Kamu Susano-o uses Myraid Slashes. Pandora uses Kougaon and Demise is finally gone.

Shadow Six: Damn! How could this have happened?

Dax: Guess your ol’ man isn’t as great as you think he is.

Oracle: That’s right. You really need to be more dependent on your own.

Shadow Six: How dare you. I was created from my father and Chase Suno to help my father take this world. I owe him everything!

Zen: Are you sure about that? To your father, he didn’t give you life, he just gave you power. You are nothing but weapon to him.

Shadow Six: I refuse to believe that.

Zen: Please listen to me, Six, I came here to take you to the Soul Society... But you are far from ready to rest there.

Shadow Six: !

Yu: What are you saying, Zen san?

Zen: It wasn’t easy, but Central 46 has allowed Six to live again. Normally, they would object to this as Six is not even a Mod-Soul. However, with some divine intervention, they have agreed to let Six to live to a ripe old age.

Shadow Six: ...

Zen: So please, Six san, don’t do this. Leave Dr. Klipse so you can live the life you truly deserve. One with a real family who loves you and accept you for who you are.

>Zen offers his hand to Shadow Six. Shadow Six then stick out his own hand as if trying to reach it... But he pulls it back.

Shadow Six: You... YOU’RE LYING!

Dax: You’re? We’re using contractions now? I guess we have our real answer.

Shadow Six: (now real angry) I do not believe what you are saying. I will destroy you and become the only one to exist. You say that I should not be like my father? ... Then maybe we should try THIS!

>With that, a great darkness surrounded Shadow Six. When it cleared...

Yosuke: (shocked) This thing again!?

Zen: Chronos, the Clockwork God. So we must fight him again.

Oracle: If we’re going up against this thing, I better try something better.

>Al Azif scans the Clockwork God.

Oracle: He has no weaknesses. And Bless and Curse Skills don’t work on him.

Yosuke: It’s not surprise. Last time we had to fight him, it took a party of five.

Joker: Yeah, we did something similar in that movie theater. I remember.

Yusuke: Then we’ll do it like then. Aigis san, Joker san, you with me?

Aigis: We are with you all the way.

Joker: Right! If we’re going up against a god here...

I think I might have just the thing.

Dax: Oi, I want in on this, too. No matter how you look at it, it’s still just Six.

Zen: That’s right. So I’ll be fighting, as well.

Skull: Are you sure you can fight after you’ve just been rescued?

Zen: I have recovered enough. I am willing and able.

Rei: (happy) Then let’s do this together!

Zen: (also happy) Yes, together.

Wolf: Hold on, Rei chan’s fighting, too? Wouldn’t that make it a total of six?

Rei: Me and Zen always work together. It’s like we’re one.

Joker: Then it’s settled.

Clockwork God: It does not matter how many numbers there are, I have great power that even you cannot fathom.

Joker: Now you’re just all talk. Even with all that power at your disposal, it won’t make any difference. Because we will, without a doubt...

Take your heart!

>I change to my Ultimate Persona!

Yu, Aigis, and Joker: PERSONA!

Rei: Zen, I’ve been holding on to this for you.

>She hands him a couple of crossbows.

Zen: My Zanpackuto. Thank you, Rei.

Dax: Right, shall we?

Zen: Ready.

Dax: Hyper Airswitch, Launch!

>Dax launches his Core. Zen shots at it. When the arrow hit it, the Monsuno inside bursts out.

(Insert song: The Infinite)

>The Clockwork God uses Gears of Time. Yu said that it will initiate a countdown until it destroys us.

Rei; Does this mean it will really be like last time?

Zen: I doubt it. There is something that’s keeping him from using his other powers. But be careful. He might still be able to hasten the countdown.

Joker: Then we’ll just have to beat him before the countdown finish. But I’m going to need you to buy me some time.

Yu: Right. We’ll buy you as much as we can.

>Izanagi-no-Okami uses Concentrate. Athena uses Marakukaja. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Rei uses a Bakudo Kido spell known as Sai on the Clockwork God. Its effect is similar to Sukunda. Hyper Airswitch uses Mystic Armor (Makarakarn) on me. The Clockwork God uses Marakunda. Then, he uses Agidyne on Dax. Izangai-no-Okami uses Ziodyne. Athena uses Rising Slash. Satanael uses Riot Gun again. Zen uses Cyclone. Hyper Airswitch uses Electro Barrage, an Electricity-based attack. The Clockwork God uses Vorpal Blade on me. Then, he tries to use Pulinpa on Aigis, but thankfully, it didn’t work. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Myraid Truths. Athena uses Akashic Arts. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Zen uses Soul Slice. Hyper Airswitch uses Down Spiral Dive (Garudyne). The Clockwork God uses Bufudyne on Zen and Rei. They become Frozen. Then, he uses Vorpal Blade on them. They are shattered. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Concentrate. Athena uses Diarahan on Zen and Rei. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Zen uses Thunder Clap. Hyper Airswitch uses Down Spiral Dive. The Clockwork God uses Matarunda. He then just hesitates. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Myraid Truths. Athena uses Megaton Raid. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Zen uses Soul Slice. Hyper Airswitch uses Electro Barrage. The Clockwork God uses Ziodyne on Aigis. She is knocked down. The Clockwork God then uses Aigidyne on me. Fortunately, Mystic Armor protects me and the attack is thrown back at him. The Clockwork God just hesitates. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Salvation. Aigis gets back up and Athena uses Megaton Raid.

Oracle: I’ll do something about this!

>Al Azif recovers some of our SP. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Rei uses the Hado Kido, Tenran. Hyper Airswitch uses Down Spiral Dive. The Clockwork god was now at half health.

Clockwork God: You still resist me after everything I have used against you? Very well. Behold the power of death.

>The Clockwork God uses Time Warp.

Zen: He’s hastened it.

Joker: Damn! I’m still not ready yet. I need more time.

Yu: We’re not giving up just yet.

Oracle: He’s right. We’re only half done. Keep going!

>The Clockwork God then uses Ziodyne on Dax. He is knocked down. The Clockwork God then uses Marakunda. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Concentrate. Athena uses Marakukaja. Satanael uses Riot Gun.

Zen: I think I’m ready to release my Zanpakuto.

Rei: Then let’s do it! Fly High, Jikanya!

>When Zen fired his arrow, it became pure Almighty which took a large amount of the Clockwork God’s health. Dax gets back up and Hyper Airswitch uses Mystic Armor on Dax. The Clockwork God uses Maragidyne. Zen and Rei become Burned and the Mystic Armor protects Dax and send the attack back at the Clockwork God. Then, he tries to use Vorpal Blade on Aigis, but she dodges it. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Salvation. This cures Zen and Rei of the Burn. Athena uses Megaton Raid. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Zen uses Thunder Clap. Hyper Airswitch uses Electro Barrage. The Clockwork God uses Garudyne on me. Then, he uses Bufudyne on Dax. He becomes Frozen. Izanagi-no-Okami uses Ziodyne. Athena uses Megaton Raid.

Oracle: Super move! Ultra Charge!

>Al Azif uses Charge and Concentrate on us. Satanael uses Riot Gun. Thanks, to the Charge, it took a large chunk of the Clockwork God’s health. But I need just a little more time before delivering the final blow.

Rei: Time to show you I can be just as strong as Zen. Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south! Hado #31. Shakkaho!

>Rei fires a large blast of red energy from both her hands. Thanks to Concentrate, the attack was stronger.

Clockwork God: No, I cannot allow this! I will not lose my exisitance to the likes of you. I cannot!

>The Clockwork God uses Time Warp.

Dax: We may be making progress, but we’re running out of time, mates.

Joker: I’m almost ready. just gave me a little more time.

Clockwork God: You will not have enough time! I will make sure of that!

>The Clockwork God uses Megidolaon.

Yu: I don’t think so. We will stop you... TOGETHER!

>Izanagi-no-Okami uses Salvation.

Aigis: Yes, let us do this!

>Athena uses God’s Hand.

Joker: And now... TO FINISH THIS!

>With Sinful Shell, the battle was over. The Clockwork God fell and resumed his human form.

Shadow Six: Th- That’s not possible. My Monsuno. My father’s Monsuno. They’re... Not powerful, after all?

Dax: The truth hurts, doesn’t it?

Noir: I understand how you feel, Six san. I sometimes used to think that my father was a great man. But then I saw the truth. But I know he was a good man deep down...

But your father is empty.

Crow: That’s right. I know how you feel, too. My father was a monster. To him, everyone was expendable.

Dr. Klipse treat you the same way.

Shadow Six: ...

Zen: Please listen to them, Six. They speak the truth. But you don’t have to be like this. You can have another chance at life. Just trust us.

Shadow Six: ... Why should I? Why am I being given another chance?

Zen: You know it’s not just Emmanuel Klipse you were created from.

Shadow Six: You mean... Chase Suno? What does have have to do with all of this?

Zen: You know he has a gift that only a few have.

Shadow Six: The Monsuno Sight. Hargrave has it. Why? Are you saying that because Chase Suno has the Monsuno Sight... I might have it, too?

Zen: ... That’s what we're going to find out. But even if you don’t have it, you will still be allowed to live. You can be more than what you were just made to be.

Joker: Yes. We don’t want to hurt you. Nor do we want to fight you any longer.

Just give us the Treasure. Trust us.

>Shadow Six was silent for a moment... Finally, he gives us the Treasure.

Shadow Six: Alright. I trust you.

>Then, the Palace begins to crumble.

Mona: It’s time to go.

>With that, Mona becomes out van. We all get on... Except for Zen who stayed with Shadow Six.

Rei: Zen, come with us!

Zen: I cannot, Rei. Klarion’s curse keeps me trapped in my Gigai with Six. Even going with you through the Metaverse would be pointless.

Rei: But-

Zen: It’ll be fine, Rei. We’ll see each other soon. Just look for me in the facility in the real world. I’ll be waiting.

>Rei knew Zen was right. So she gets on Mona and we drive off.

>Zen goes to Shadow Six who looks up to him. He was worried.

Zen: It’s alright, Six. No harm will come to you... I promise.

>Shadow Six silently nods his head. Zen offers his hand to him... Shadow Six takes it.

>We arrive back in the real world safely.

That wasn’t a very easy fight.

Still, we won. Just like last time.

Aigis: No doubt.

Dax: Say, where is this Treasure we risked our necks for?

Labrys: Yeah, I wanna see it.

It’s right here.

That’s it? That’s what we almost got killed for? It’s kind of a letdown from our last Palace.

Dax: Demise’s Core. The first Monsuno Six ever got from Klipse. Of course he would see it as valuable.

And what about Zen san?

Rei: Klarion’s curse keeps him trapped in his Gigai. He said that we should go into the Eklipse base and see him.

That shouldn’t be a problem. This isn’t the first time we sneaked into a base in the real world. I’ll see if I can make it happen.

Oh, boy, cut me some slack.

Dax: We don’t all have to go, old man. Some of us can go.

Queen: Right, we should discuss who should go in the camper.

>We all agree and go inside the camper... Dax stayed outside. He takes out his phone.

Dax: But just to be sure... Oi, you guys, can I ask a favor of you?

>To be concluded...

[pokemagines]

hríd & takumi + their s/o getting hurt protecting them

@willowmum asked: “Aa hi mom could I get Hríd and Takumi (separately) with a S/O who gets seriously injured protecting them? I love angst oop (also I’m sorry if this is too vague? I don’t wanna like,, put a bunch of details into what I want just in case it makes u feel obligated or smth? Sorry I’m weird but I love y’all)”

a/n: i’m a sucker...... for these kinds of fics thank u sm my child!! 

ALSO: FOR ALL THOSE WHO CAN’T SUMMON HRID HOPEFULLY THIS BRINGS U LUCK!!! --mod touko

tw: light description of injury... nothing too serious tho

hríd:

it was all a blur. one minute you were across the battlefield, safe and where you were supposed to be, the next you were at his side, shielding him from a magic spell he was too slow to retaliate against. he panics, heart racing as he goes into overdrive taking out any enemy who dared near him at the moment. his mind is clouded with one thought -- get you to safety. 

he dismount quickly, racing to your side and calling for your name desperately. your thin robes provided little protection against the harsh magic of the blue mage. 

   ‘it is all your fault’, come his thoughts as pleads for a healer to come help. the rest of the battlefield is muted, an afterthought pushed to the back of his mind as he focuses on keeping you awake. 

   “please... please talk to me,” he begs, clutching the fabric of the cloak you always wore, where it once was white it was now stained by the char of electricity that had hit you. “[name]... you’re going to be okay, just stay with me!” despite your mind clouded by pain, you can feel his hands trembling as he tries to hold onto you, like if he let go you would slip through his fingers. you try to speak but it comes out so weak you don’t know if he can hear it. hríd’s icy blue eyes are wide with fear, as he pleads for you to stay with him. 

   you try so hard to stay with him, to focus on those eyes that you love so much, but instead you fall back into unconsciousness, your last thought being the hope that you get to see them again. 

he doesn’t sleep for however long you’re in the medical ward. he doesn’t know how long it’s been and he doesn’t care to know. the only thoughts that consume him are the promises he made to you to protect you, and how he failed in that duty. hríd doesn’t grieve, no, he hardly even looks alive, as he paces in front of the door, eyes cast to the floor as he prays for your safety. 

gunnthrá, fjorm, and ylgr often come visit him to make sure he’s eating but he always refuses their requests. gunnthrá knows that he’s punishing himself for his failures, just as he did when he failed to protect his family in his world. all she can do is bring him food and try to calm his racing thoughts. fjorm sits and watches her brother, silently keeping him company and reassuring him that he shouldn’t blame himself. ylgr tries to be chipper, but she often sniffles as she prays aloud for your safety. 

mist eventually comes out, telling hríd that you’re fine, you just need rest. hríd almost breaks right there, and gunnthrá pulls him into a hug. ylgr cries tears of happiness and latches onto fjorm, who is hardly keeping herself together too. mist insists that hríd can visit, but only for a few minutes. hríd thanks her for all her work, before rushing to your side.

you look a little worse for wear, but hríd thinks you’ve never been as beautiful -- eyes sleepily narrowed but full of life. he drops down to his knees by your cot, trying so hard to be strong, you needed him to be strong, but once you smile weakly up at him, he loses it. tears flow freely, as he kisses your hand over and over, reassuring himself that you were here and alive. 

   “i’m so sorry, love, it’s my fault...” he starts, and you use the hand he’s pressed up against his face to wipe his tears. “i should have protected you like i swore i would. i have failed not only my family but you as well”. 

   “no you didn’t,” you say, quiet as you were still weak from your injury. “hríd, it was my choice to protect you... you mean a lot to me, you know.” hríd is silent, gazing lovingly down at you, tears now dry, but guilt still heavy on his heart. he knew you would assure him it wasn’t his fault, as you always did, but there would always be a part of him that drove him to be stronger to protect his family. something that now included you. he couldn’t lose you again, he would die a thousand deaths to make sure you were happy and healthy.

   “and you mean... gods, you mean more to me than anything.” he places a kiss on each one of your knuckles. you look up and see his eyes, still beautiful, still bright, just tired. he must’ve worn himself out worrying. “just... we can talk more about this in the morning. let me stay here with you tonight? just to make sure... you’re here.” there’s a vulnerability in his voice that you know comes from losing those closest to him. you nod weakly, scooting over, and he joins you on your small bed. he’s careful not to move you, as to not strain your injuries, and he lays beside you, feeling the warmth of your body and smiling softly. 

   never again would he fail you.

takumi:

he’s desperate, nocking another arrow with unsteady hands as he sees the enemies start to near him, and more importantly you. forcing every thought but keeping you safe aside, he shoots down enemies like a man possessed. he’s so focused on those in front of him, he doesn’t realize there’s a sword knight sneaking up on him. before he can even react to it, the blade comes down and he braces himself for the hit. but it never comes.

and then he hears your cry, a horrifyingly shrill noise that cuts through his heart like no blade could. he doesn’t see you go down, instead, he reacts as he always does, shooting down whatever is causing him grief. the red enemy ends up with an arrow through his skull, collapsing beside you on the ground. takumi then rushes to your side, eyes scanning your limp body as he tries to think of something, anything to do. thankfully, veronica and maribelle are nearby, and they come to your aid. takumi, however, refuses to leave your side, and has to be taken away kicking and screaming by ares and minerva, so that the healers can escort you back to askr.     + he chokes back a sob, gods, there was so much blood. all because he wasn’t there to protect you.

in the days that follow, he doesn’t eat or sleep, his guilt consuming him from the inside out. he becomes more snippy, yelling at anyone who tries to comfort him because in his mind, he doesn’t deserve to be coddled. he should be the one half-dead in the medical tent because at least then you would be okay. ryoma and hinoka let him be, silently waiting with him in support of their brother. sakura makes him food and tries to get him to rest, but he, stubborn as he is, refuses.

   takumi’s heart thunders in his chest when he sees veronica exit the medical ward, a look of relief on her usually stoic face. she glances to all the heroes that wait in the hallway for news of your condition: takumi, of course, along with his siblings and the askr trio. 

   “they’re okay.” she says, and then glances to takumi, “i know they’ll want to see you so... i’ll allow it for a few minutes, but no longer than that.” he has to push back the urge to deny her request, as he didn’t think he deserved to even look at you, but his feet carry him inside the infirmary anyways. he sees you, weakly propped up on a few pillows on a cot in the corner, and he shatters. with each step, tears flow down his face. he kneels down beside you, and you smile weakly up at him. 

   ‘he doesn’t deserve your smile. you should be yelling at him because he couldn’t protect you.’

   “i’m sorry... i should’ve done my job and protected you.” you use your one hand that’s not in a sling to gently pet his hair. he takes your hand in his own and sobs into it, shoulders moving up and down as he lets out that he had been bottling up for the few days you had been in the medical ward. “forgive me, i don’t deserve you... your kindness.” 

   “oh takumi... don’t you see i was just protecting you.” you pet his cheeks, wiping away all the tears you can. his eyes are puffy from crying, and you wish you were strong enough to reach up and kiss him better. “just as you always do for me. gods know how many times you’ve ended up in here because of me.” you chuckle weakly, and he kisses the palm of your hand. 

   “ryoma could’ve protected you... so could’ve hinoka...” his voice is small as he voices his insecurities. you don’t know why he constantly compared himself to his older siblings, but that was apart of him that had been ingrained in him since he was younger. 

   “but i don’t want them, takumi... i want you.” you assure him, voice cracking from disuse. “i’d do anything to protect you because i love you. you deserve to be happy and healthy. and if that means me taking blows for you from time to time... well, so be it.” overwhelmed with emotions, he gently slings his arms around your neck, careful not to disturb your wounds, and sobs into your neck, occasionally whispering how much he doesn’t deserve you. 

   you two stay like that for some time, despite veronica occasionally coming in to give you a hurry it up look. 

[crashdevlin]

Bottle-14: Safe House

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 4810

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: canon-compliant violence, 18+, HERE BE SEX, DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN, dub-con dream, canon-divergence (I hated the Laura Barton storyline for various reasons, so I fixed it) Bad German from google translate

Cassie woke up alone, but there was a note next to her head. Had to vacate. I made bacon and coffee. Call me when you wake up.

She smiled and dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blue turtleneck. As she poured coffee into a travel mug, she put her cell on speaker and dialed Clint. "Good morning, Hawk."

"Not so much," came through the phone. "Uh, so, Natasha knows."

"What? Are you kidding me?" She twisted the cap on the mug and picked up her cell phone.

"No. We're spies. She didn't like my answer of where I spent my night, so she followed me on the camera footage."

Cassie took a drink of her coffee and groaned, walking out of her apartment. "I'm sorry, Agent Barton. Aren't you supposed to be well-versed in keeping shit secret?"

"Hey, I'm great at keeping secrets. I was on my way to delete the video from the cams in your apartment when Nat told me she got there first."

"Great. So, your best friend, who thinks I'm a cocktease, knows you spent the night in my bed? Wonderful. So, what, did she tell you to stay away from me? You gonna listen to her?" she asked, getting into the elevator. She rested her phone between her ear and shoulder and pushed her right hand onto the biometric scanner above the numbered buttons.

"That's a negative. I answer to you." His voice switched to a military tone.

"And someone just walked up on you. One of the bosses. Tell me you deleted that footage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm on my way up," she said, pressing numbers on the screen to send her to the lab level. She heard someone in the background, sounded like Steve.

"I gotta go," Clint said, into the phone.

"See ya in few," Cassie said, hanging up and putting her phone in her back pocket. As she walked into the lab, drinking down her coffee like ambrosia, she noticed everyone around Natasha at the computer. "What'd I miss?"

"Ultron killed your buddy Strucker," Tony answered, handing a tablet to her. 'STRUCKER, BARON VON' and 'DECEASED' shined up at her, over a picture of Strucker, dead in his cell. 'PEACE' was written crudely on the wall in blood.

"This is a smokescreen. Why send a message when you've just given a speech?" Natasha asked.

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss," Steve caught on.

"Yeah, I bet he..." Natasha started, pulling up the file on Strucker. "Yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased."

"Not everything," Steve said, with a smile. "I prefer paper."

"You've got analog files," Cassie said, with a grin. "Thank God for the man out of time. Where are they?"

"There's a storage room down the hall. Strucker files will be there."

The team grabbed the boxes and dug in, Clint taking a box over to the window to be by himself. Cassie stuck by the table, going through a box of Strucker's history. A Hydra file caught her eye, one labeled 'Projekt Kind'. She pulled it as Steve dropped a box on the table. "Known associates. Strucker had a lot of friends."

"Well, these people are all horrible," Banner said, flipping through files.

"Wait. I know that guy," Tony said, pointing at a picture. "From back in the day. He operates off the African coast, black market arms."

Steve gave him an accusatory look, so he quickly defended himself as the picture was passed around the table. Cassie tore her eyes away from the 'Kind' file to stand and look over Thor's arm at the picture. The man looked dangerous, covered in tattoos and heavily muscled. "There are conventions, all right? You meet people, I didn't sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game changer, it was all very 'Ahab'."

"This?" Thor asked, pointing to a red symbol on the man's neck.

"Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it..." Tony answered.

"No, those are tattoos, this is a brand," Thor responded, showing the picture to the table.

"A brand? Like, a voluntary body mod thing, or... 'we want you to be forever remembered as a criminal' kind of thing?" Cassie asked.

"Well, he operates in Africa. There are still tribes that do that. I mean, the ones that don't just kill you," Clint offered from his place behind Stark.

"Let's find out. I'll scan this picture and find the symbol." Banner said, gently taking the picture from Thor's hands and walking to the computer.

As the computer scanned through thousands of symbols, Cassie opened the 'Kind' file. Most of it was numbers and dates. #1: FEHLSCHLAGEN: 23/5/1978-23/5/1978, #5: FEHLSCHLAGEN: 9/6/1978-9/7/1978 ... on and on with failure after failure, until #452: GELINGEN: 12/9/1989-? LEBENDE EXEMPLAR.

"What are you reading?" Natasha asked from over her shoulder. Cassie hadn't realized how close the Russian was to her.

"Projekt Kind. Me. I'm reading about me, and all the failures that came before me. All the brothers and sisters that died in the petri dish."

"Why was that in with Strucker's stuff?" Banner asked from the computer.

"Because Strucker ran the lab where I was made. It was one of his first assignments, back when he was a balding young Hydra agent, instead of a bald asshole." She flipped the folder shut and looked around the room. "They called me 452, but I never really thought they'd failed 451 times before they got it right. The one before me only lasted a month. I... wonder what they did right with me."

"Don't worry about what they did, just be glad they did it," Tony said, looking at the computer.

"Oh, yeah," Bruce said, as a match came up on the screen. "It's a word in an African dialect meaning 'thief', in a much less friendly way."

"What dialect?" Steve asked.

"Wakanada?" Bruce tried, before turning back to the screen to try again. "Wa... wa... Wakanda."

The word hit something in Cassie's mind. Phil had told her about Wakanda. What had he said? "If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods..." Stark started, looking completely exasperated.

"I thought your father said he got the last of it?" Steve said.

"I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?" Bruce asked, stepping away from the computer.

Steve and Tony turned their heads to look at Steve's beloved shield. "The strongest metal on Earth."

"Where is this guy now?" Steve asked.

"Africa?" Cassie suggested, taking a drink of her coffee and standing.

"Yeah. A shipyard in Richards Bay, South Africa. East coast, about 600 klicks away from Johannesburg," Natasha said, pulling up a location on the computer.

"Suit up? I'm gonna go suit up. Meet you at the jet," Cassie said, grabbing the 'Kind' file and walking out with it and her mug. As she waited for the elevator, Natasha walked up beside her, grabbing the folder. "What are you doing, Romanoff?"

"You don't need this. It's a deep hole. You're already in one of those. Don't dig yourself deeper." She held the file away from the blond next to her.

"I'm already in one? Really? I wasn't aware."

Natasha turned to her, the file safely behind her back. "You still don't know who you are. I understand that. You have an internal fight going on between you and the occultist Hydra princess," she said the words with a mixture of malice and pity. "You're gonna look at this file and see their plans for you. It's Hydra, so they had your whole life planned out. But you, whoever you actually are, you're not who they wanted you to be. You aren't 452, or Junior. You're Joanna and Cassandra... Red Queen. All of those names, SHIELD and its operatives gave you. Like you said, even your dark side has a respect for human life. This file is not you."

"Why do you care how deep I dig myself? I'm just a tease, right? Nobody you want on your team."

"Because Barton cares, and you've chosen. That's all I asked. You chose Clint and he asked me to be nice. I'm willing to do that. I'm willing to try to be your friend. I'm happy to be your teammate. Just so long as we're all clear that you've chosen and last night wasn't a fluke."

Cassie sighed and walked onto the elevator as it opened. "I chose. Yesterday, I chose. Not because I was scared of some robot, not because he showed up in my bedroom while I was vulnerable and sad... but because I like the blunt, forward child of the '70s... the man who knows me, both sides of me, better than I do. And better than you do."

"Then, we're fine. See you at the jet," Natasha turned and walked back toward the lab, putting the file under her arm.

***************

"All right. Heavy hitters, go in first. That's me, Thor and Cap. Red, Hawk and Widow, you pull a stealth entrance and bring up the rear. Banner stays on the jet unless we need a 'Code Green'," Tony ordered.

Everyone nodded and readied themselves to head onto the ship. Cassie nodded to Clint as he started to climb to a vantage height, but she stuck to the shadows on the lower. She could hear the A Team above her, chatting with Ultron and the twins. "I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan!" Ultron shouted, before a series of explosions and hits and thuds were heard above her. She pulled her gun from its holster and snuck to a point still mostly covered, but able to take aim at the Ultronbots suddenly flying above, attacking everyone. Two shots to the head of one put it down a few feet from her, and she managed a bullet into the leg of one of Klaue's men. When Steve knocked the fast enhanced into the boxes she was hiding behind, Cassie came around them. No more hiding.

"Stay down, kid," Steve said, before running off.

Cassie pointed her weapon at the Maximoff. "I know you could be gone before I finished pulling this trigger... and even if I could hit you, I wouldn't want a body on my soul, anyway. So, I'm gonna go this way..." She gestured to her left with the pistol. "...and you can go wherever else you want."

The silver haired enhanced looked up at her, then stood, brushing his clothes off. "You have no bodies on your soul? You are Avenger. Is that not requirement for joining?"

She shook her head. "Sie wissen nicht wovon Sie sprechen. [You don’t know what you’re talking about.] You have a vastly distorted view of the Avengers. Your outdated idea of Tony Stark is the problem. But... me... I'm just one of Strucker's experiments gone right. I'm..." Her head went fuzzy as she spoke, and she turned her head to see the sister and a red mist floating around her head. "Vat did you do?" she whispered, accent heavy on her words as her head went fuzzy.

"Guys, is this a code Green?" came through the comms as Cassie tried to blink away the dizziness in her head.

"Thor! Status?" Steve came through next as Wanda and Pietro disappeared from Cassie's field of vision.

"The girl tried to warp my mind. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty." Thor's voice was muffled by a louder, seemingly omnipresent voice.

"Joanna." Cassie twisted, the sing-song voice sending fear straight to her gut. The ship had been replaced by the lab she used to work in at Stark Tower. She looked down, her super suit replaced by her old lab coat and a light blue blouse... and there he was, inky black hair, blue-green eyes, green and black armor, sitting on the counter between two Bunsen burners on at their highest level. "Clinton, then? You replace me, Asgardian royalty, the son of King Laufey of Jotunheim, with a circus freak?"

She took a step backward, which prompted Loki to jump down and walk toward her. "Loki, I-"

"Don't worry, Joanna. I'm not angry," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her into a kiss. She melted into it, his cold touch forcing shivers throughout her body. "You are my queen, my Red Queen, and I know you love me. I know you love my touch." His long fingers came to her lab coat, pulling it down her arms to drop on the floor.

"That scepter didn't make you scream my name, did it? It didn't leave you dripping your juices down my chin or make you ride my cock like a wench in heat." He turned her, roughly, pushing her chest into the counter and bringing his hands around to unbutton her black work slacks, pushing them down her legs.

"Loki, don't-"

"I know your mind. I know you miss me, Joanna. You refuse to acknowledge it, but I can smell your lies, even the ones you tell yourself. I know how much you long to be in my arms again, how you miss being impaled upon me." His hand slid down her ass and between her legs, rubbing her lips through the thin satin of her panties. He tore the material away and stood, lining his cock up against her and lifting her hips to improve his angle as he rammed his hips forward. "You... are... mine. Only mine... I know your body... such that... I can make... you cum... without even touching... your little bundle of nerves." He hammered his hips forward, causing Cassie to whimper and claw at the slick granite countertop.

He was right. As his hands grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady, an orgasm rushed over her. "Oh, my god," she moaned.

He continued to fuck her past her orgasm, drawing the sensations out longer. "Yes, I am. Do well to remember it, Joanna."

Cassie was suddenly back on the ship, sprawled out on the floor, her body thrumming with arousal. She shuddered and stood. "Natasha, I could really use a lullaby," Tony's voice came over the comm.

"Well, that's not gonna happen. Not for a while. The whole team is down. You got no backup here," Clint answered.

"I'm out... out of it," Cassie whispered. "I can't provide a Brahm's but, do you need help, Stark?"

"Banner's in Johannesburg, I don't know how you'd get there in time. Help Barton corral the rest of the team. I'm calling in VERONICA."

"Good to hear your voice, Red," Clint came over the comms.

"You got a location on the rest of our team?" She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"Cap was swaying in the stairwell, got no clue on the Thunder God."

"Got him," Cassie said, looking up the stairs to the left. She ran up them, coming to a stop in front of Steve. "Steve... Steve. Hey, come back. Come back," she said, snapping her fingers in front of him.

Steve barely moved, so Cassie bent her knees, putting her shoulder against his abdomen and popping up to throw him over her shoulder. "Cap's still out, I'm taking him back to the jet. Grab Widow and meet me there, Barton. We'll take on Thor together."

As she stomped onto the Quinjet, Steve weighing her down, Clint rushed up beside her. "Here, put him down over here." She dropped Steve unceremoniously on one of the jump seats, then rolled her shoulders back. "I'm impressed. Glad for the super strength, huh?"

"Right. Come on. Let's go wrangle an Asgardian," she said, trudging back down the ramp.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Clint asked, following her. "I know the Maximoff chick hit you."

"Clint, can we not? We've just had our asses completely handed to us. You and I are the only ones intact right now, and we've got a God to put on that jet."

"Okay, well... You're gonna tell me what she made you see, right? Later?"

"Sure," she responded, running back up the ramp onto the ship.

*********************************

Clint powered up the jet and flew out as soon as Banner and Stark made it on board. He tried to beckon Cassie to the copilot seat, but she shook her head and took her place on the floor next to the scientist. She didn't say anything or touch the man, just hung her head and listened to the sounds of the Quinjet, all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Maria's voice came from the cockpit. "The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest but it's in the air."

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asked.

"Already on the scene. How's the team?"

Cassie could almost feel Tony scan the jet with his eyes. "Everyone's... we took a hit. We'll shake it off."

Well, that sounded optimistic.

"Well, for now, I'd stay in stealth mode and stay away from here."

"So, run and hide?"

"Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer."

"Neither do we." There was a moment where the screen clicked off, then Stark said, "Hey, do you wanna switch out?"

"No, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, 'cause we're still a few hours out."

"A few hours from where?"

"A safe house."

Cassie watched Stark sit in one of the seats and look down at his phone, so she nodded at him and stood, walking to the cockpit to take the copilot seat. "I don't want to talk about it, now. Maybe never, but definitely not now," she said, quietly. Clint just nodded and reached his right hand out to pat her knee. "Thank you."

"Hey, secret shit is what I do. Speaking of, you remember, in Austria I told you about a farm I go to when I need to get my shit straight?"

Cassie nodded. "That's your safe house?"

"Yeah. And, uh, I'm not the only one who lives there," he whispered.

"What, you got a secret wife or something?" she whispered back, leaning over closer to him.

"No, nothing stupid like that, but... I have a brother, Barney. He's got a wife and kids. He's not always... stable and he's... not around a lot. So, I set her, my niece and nephew up with a stable home. Barney and I never got that, and she's a great woman, deserves it, so... Anyway, only Nat knows, so... Assuming Ultron hasn't found out about it, that's gonna be a surprise."

"Wait... Barney Barton... I know that name... Charles, right? He’s Trick Shot now, right?"

"Uh, yeah. How do you know that?"

Cassie turned away from him and looked out the front of the jet. "Phil brought home files sometimes."

"I... remember seeing you snoop a couple times. You never did anything with them though."

"Curiosity. Always trying to learn."

***********

Cassie fell into a dreamless sleep, which was disturbed only when the Quinjet landed outside a farmhouse situated on a green plot of land. "Wow," she whispered, standing. "Home is green."

"Yeah," Clint said, dropping the ramp to let everyone walk out.

"What is this place?" Thor asked, stepping onto the porch.

"A safe house?" Tony said, questioningly.

"Let's hope," Barton muttered, opening the door for them. "Honey, I'm home," he called.

The brunette woman that walked in from the kitchen was very pregnant. She smiled at them. "Let your brother hear you call me 'honey', you'll have even more issues with each other than you already do."

Clint smiled. "Hi. Company. Sorry I didn't call first."

"Clint, it's your house. Your don't have to call ahead." She smiled brightly at the group. "Hey."

"She's clearly an agent of some kind," Tony mumbled to Thor.

"Gentlemen, Cass, this is my sister-in-law, Laura."

"I know all your names."

"Ooh, incoming," Barton said, pulling away from Laura and kneeling down as a boy and a girl ran into the living room.

"Uncle Clint!" the girl yelled, jumping up into his arms.

"Oh, she's been dying to tell you about this boy at school," Laura said.

The girl nodded, excited. "Do I want to know about the boy at school?" he asked.

The girl jumped down, nodding as Stark said, "These are... smaller agents."

"There's a new boy at school, we share recess, and I'm the only one who can talk to him."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause he's deaf and I'm the only one who knows Sign," she said.

Clint smiled, proudly. "Very cool. Is he cute?" He spoke the words as he signed at her. The girl blushed fiercely and puffed her cheeks out. Clint laughed at her reaction, then signed. "Glad you are getting good practice." At the look of confusion from Cassie, he shrugged. "I was kinda deaf for a while. SHIELD fixed me."

"By 'kinda deaf for a while' he means '80% hearing loss for most of his life'," Laura filled in.

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" the girl interjected as Cassie gave an impressed look.

"Why don't you hug her and find out?" Natasha said, stepping forward. The girl rushed to her and hugged her tightly.

"Sorry for barging in on you," Steve apologized to Laura.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy not knowing you existed," Stark snarked.

"Yeah, well, Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off SHIELD's files, I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low."

"Well, Clint, we missed you," Laura said, with a smile.

"So, I see Barney made his way home," Natasha said, walking up and putting her hands on the woman's belly.

"Yeah. 'Bout seven months ago."

"So... how's little Natasha, huh?" Natasha asked.

"She's... Nathaniel," Laura answered.

"Traitor," Natasha said, leaning down to speak directly at the baby in the woman's belly.

Cassie turned her head as Thor stalked out of the house and Steve followed. "You're Cassie, aren't you?" Laura asked. Cassie turned back to the woman and nodded. "Clint has told me a lot about you."

"Oh, that can't be good."

Laura laughed. "No, it's good, I promise. He couldn't tell me everything, you know, 'classified'." She did air quotes around the word. "...but when you disappeared, he went crazy with worry. He obsessed about finding you. He had all these maps that me and the kids weren't allowed to look at. He'd spend hours pouring over them."

Clint groaned and pulled a knife from his belt. He offered it to Natasha and tapped the back of his skull. "If you could just, please, right here."

"Oh, come on, Clint. I think it's cute. So, where was it that you actually ended up being?" Laura asked, rubbing her hands over her belly.

"Austria."

"Oh. Pretty."

Cassie smiled, awkwardly as her stomach growled. "You mind if I take over your kitchen, Mrs. Barton? I'm feeling a bit... completely famished."

"Oh, sure. I don't mind."

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Tony said.

"Kids' bathroom is upstairs, second door on the left," Clint informed, before following Cassie into the kitchen. "Hey. You all right?"

She opened the fridge and peered in. It was well stocked with produce and meats, three different kinds of fruit juice on the top shelf and a small drawer filled with Lunchables. A twenty-four pack of beer sat on the bottom shelf next to a case of ginger ale. "I wasn't ever... that pregnant. She... looks huge," she whispered. She shook her head and shut the fridge. "Which way to town?"

"What do you mean? What do you need in town?"

"I'm gonna go buy some beer."

"There's beer in the fridge."

She smiled, slightly. "It's so cute that you think that's beer."

"What, you don't like Coors?" he asked, leaning against the oven.

"I have something against a beer that encourages you to drink it cold." Clint raised his eyebrow. "Come on, you've spent enough time in Europe to know that real beer should be warm or, at least, room temp. Why? Because cold dulls the natural flavors of hops and barley and if a beer wants you to drink it cold, they obviously don't want you to actually taste it."

She shrugged. "Farmland, USA, I might be able to find a sixer of Guinness at the 'Five and Dime'. Just point me in the right direction."

"A: It's a dry town. You'd have to go the next county over for a beer. 2: I've got whiskey in the cabinet if you really need a drink, and Charlie: There are a lot of people out there looking for us. You don't need to be going anywhere."

"I'm not an Avenger, not so far as the world knows, Clint. No one is gonna recognize me."

Clint rolled his eyes and switched on the TV set sitting on the counter. BBC World News flicked to life on the screen. "...mysterious young woman carrying Thor onto the Avengers' jet. We apologize for the poor quality of the video. It's from CCTV. It is not clear who this woman is, but what is clear is that she is definitely not human," a petite British newscaster said.

Her co-anchor nodded. "You have to imagine how heavy Thor is, and you can see on that video, she just carries him around like a sack filled with potatoes or flour or something. It's like it takes no effort fer her," the Scottish man said.

"Video's grainy. You can't tell that's me. Look, I'll put on a hoodie and glasses if it'll make you feel better, but I'm going into town and you can't stop me, Hawk. I mean, you're just a human," she said, before sighing and looking down. "I didn't mean for that to be... so rude. I'm sorry. I just... The Maximoff chick got to me and then that... I don't need reminding of what I am. Your sister has some really nice bell peppers in there and I was gonna get some sausage, bratwurst maybe, make us some good ol' Austrian diner food for dinner. I think a hardy meal would help us a lot." She blinked back her tears and shook her head at herself.

"Can you drive?" Clint asked, softly.

Cassie nodded. "Phil taught me. I, also, know how to fly."

"He let you drive LOLA?"

She chuckled. "There was a time when he loved me more than that Corvette. I thought you were watching me. How'd you miss that?"

Clint shrugged. "I knew you weren't going to be doing any shady Hydra stuff with Phil around, so when he came in, I'd take time off. At the beginning, I went home to Bobbi until I got confirmation that Coulson had a new mission. After she... the divorce, I got a cheap apartment in San Luis Obispo that I went to when Phil was around. Mostly just slept and pigged out on sandwiches. Oh, and played PlayStation."

"So, you missed the crash."

"You crashed LOLA?" He looked a mixture of mortified and amused.

"Yeah. First time I got her in the air. Phil was so angry, he couldn't even speak for like 20 minutes after he inspected the damage. Which wasn't a lot, really, just a cracked headlight." She smiled. "It was... three weeks before he let me behind the wheel again, but I never had any other problems. Got my license a few months before I left Cali... Don't really need it in New York. Anyway, closest beer-mart?"

"Why don't I just drive you?" He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"You need to be here. Natasha needs you. Laura and the kids haven't seen you since I've been back from Austria. I'll be fine and I could probably benefit from a little alone time. I deal better in seclusion, remember?"

"Last time you needed seclusion, I spent two months searching for you," he whispered.

"I promise I'll come back. Today, even." She smiled softly and pulled her hand back. "Come on, Hawkeye. Keys?"

Clint sighed and groped behind him, on the counter, for a set of keys. "Take the van. Laura won't mind."

"And where am I going?" she asked, taking the keys with the Planet Fitness key chain and looping them over her first finger.

"Dirt road, take a left on Sycamore, right onto SR107, 20 miles down there's a Wal-Mart Supercenter. Beer, sausages, all that. You better come back. If you don't, I'm gonna have to room with Stark and that'd be torture."

She nodded, looking toward the living room before going on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek. She walked past the Bartons and Natasha out of the house.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

[thestuckylibrary]

Mod’s Reads: April 2018

Here’s the list of everything the Mods have read this past month!

Mod Iamnmbr3

To Never Have Loved At All* by hitlikehammers (complete | 2,839 | T ) *post IW fix-t fic 

Steve will say they had work to do, and a universe to put to rights. They had people to find and hearts to unbreak. They had a mission. There was no time for any of them to mourn.

Steve, as it turns out, says a lot of things that are mostly bullshit.

introducing mister and mister united states by moonythejedi394 (complete | 18,440 | T )

“HE’S BEAUTY HE’S GRACE HE’S MISTER UNITED STATES!” “Bucky, what the [bleeped]…?”

“Following his pardon by the President of the United States, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, former Nazi prisoner of war and brainwashed Hydra agent, took to an unusual method of adapting to the modern world: Twitter. His Twitter handle was tweeted out by Tony Stark, and in the following two days, he gained over ten million followers. Barnes posted only four tweets as well as sharing and retweeting several Vines, but two of his tweets were videos of the famed Steven Rogers, also known as Captain America. The latest of these featured Barnes entering Captain Roger’s bedroom and shouting the line: “He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s mister United States”, just to cause Captain Rogers to fall out of bed before confusedly saying, “Bucky, what the [bleeped]?” The rest of the world seems to agree with Captain Rogers; Barnes, what the hell?”

Your Kind of Idiot by dirtybinary (complete | 4,545 | T )

In which Bucky doesn't fall from the train, Steve has company when he wakes up in the twenty-first century, and neither of them knows how to talk about their feelings unless they're about to die.

things learnt upon reunion by dirtybinary (complete | 2,615 | T )

It is their first day on the run, and their first night spent together in seventy years: part mission, part honeymoon.

Bit by bit, Steve gets the hang of Bucky again.

Or: the CA:CW trailer gave me feelings and then this happened.

What We Asked For From Each Other* by Speranza (complete | 10,701 | E ) *includes one instance of Steve/Tony but is very clearly stucky endgame 

"I don't like pain," he told Banner. "Or assassins. Or boyfriends, actually."

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) bypraximeter (Zimario) (complete | 71,532 | E ) 

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Always 1895 by DarkCaustic (complete | 2,004 | T )

After that, he finds, well.

The good stuff, as he likes to call it.

Stories about before. Before the avengers, before the war, even.

Before, before.

Other lives. All that potential, never reached.

Stories about him, about them about–

Bucky.

Mod Julia

a fighter by his trade by ElisAttack (oneshot | 2,423 | E)

The crowd roars and swells around him, hands reaching, clapping him on the shoulders, shaking him in congratulations, and all Bucky does is wonder if Steve will finally take him home.

Or the one where Bucky boxes, and loves Steve Rogers.

Not the Needle, Nor the Thread by steebadore (oneshot | 2,017 | E)

Bucky wakes to a noise.

No, Bucky wakes to the noise. It's not the hoarse shout of nightmares born of battlefields and blood that so often tear them both from sleep. No, this is smaller. Bitten off. Choked back. A furtive, strangled keen, nearly silent but pitched at a frequency that would raise Bucky from the dead.

Burn your bridges down by Ark (oneshot | 8,610 | E)

Even under the ice, Steve used to dream about this.

He holds onto Bucky, keeps him there, and then Steve is kissing back. Kissing like he’s never kissed before and never will again. Kissing like coming home, like waking up, like returning from the dead.

Above the Rain and Roses Universe by coveryourheads (rsk110), Kellyscams (series | 73,943 | E) - sex work

Steve Rogers has been looking for The One ever since testing as Dominant. True love. Fairytales. Happily ever after with his very own submissive is all he wants. Which might be asking the universe for a little too much, but he'll take a good connection to start with.

But tonight, Steve is visiting The Armory. An exclusive club where unattached Doms can go and enjoy themselves with a good sub for the night. Not exactly the place Steve expects to find his one true love.

Then again, fate might have other plans, and one sub might get in way over his head making assumptions about this Dom.

Mod Blue

The Hero Steals a Kiss by spitandvinegar (restricted, oneshot | 1,084 | T)

We're all in need of comfort.

Better Than To Bend* by silentwalrus (oneshot | 23,494 | M) *polyamory

In which Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is tired, hungry and completely failing at not sticking it in the crazy. Also there’s a war going on or something.

aka world war threesome. Fear these queers.

Part 1 of Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents

If They Haven't Learned Your Name by silentwalrus (complete | 236,499 | M)

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

Part 2 of Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents

"He will live on in our memories (and in our actions, as America’s greatest hero)" by liionne (oneshot |  3,241 | M)

They all think you're dead, you know.”

“And?” Steve asks.

“And you're an American icon. A hero. Don't you think they should know that they're mourning in vain?”

“They thought I was dead before.” He says eventually. “They can cope.”

Or: The world thinks that Steve Rogers was killd by Thanos. Bucky and his friends know better.

Under Paper Skies by InterruptingDinosaur (complete | 18,138 | M)

All Bucky wants is to get back to New York in time for his meeting, but his luck runs out when a blizzard traps him in D.C. It gets even worse when the guy looking like Bucky’s every dirty fantasy come to life catches him giggling at the erotic thrillers in the romance section of the airport bookstore.

So much for making a good first impression.

Through Cities And Churches by Speranza (complete | 37,256 | E) (reread)

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017.

The whole of 4 Minute Window* by Speranza (series | 105,353 | E) (reread) */others, but kissing only

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

[starments]

thunder only happens when it’s raining.

a prompt fill for @kitandkanoodle — starmora - “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

this can also sort of double for starmora week, day 5 (hurt/comfort – just without the comfort). :))))

This is bad.

No, that's an understatement, because this is a fucking disaster.

When things go to shit for the Guardians, they really go to shit, and a simple job suddenly turns into an ambush. The ambush turns into a retreat. The retreat turns into a damned scramble for a place to hide and regroup.

They make it to a cave carved into the slick, rainy rockface of the cliff they'd been chased across, and Gamora ushers Peter inside to get them out of the line of sight of their enemies. The blaster fire died off minutes ago, but she already assured Peter she can still hear them in pursuit, and that means they aren't safe.

"Move, move," she hisses as they rush deeper into the cave. Now, Peter can hear the Kree overhead, pounding footfalls through the layers of rock. He can't help the way he holds his breath, like that might divert them, and Gamora only stops when the Kree do. One of her hands curls around Peter’s upper arm, the other holding the hilt of Godslayer tight. Peter has his blasters at the ready, repeatedly glancing over his shoulder towards the darkened speck of an entrance.

And then the plasma shots start all over again – but instead of coming from the cave’s entrance, the blasts hammer the ceiling above them. Peter and Gamora both nearly jump out of their skins with the sudden thunderous sound filling the cave, and Peter grits his teeth, ready to bolt or—

Fuck, can they get through? Shit, no, the rock’s too thick – Peter knows that much.

But it quickly becomes clear that getting through isn’t going to matter when the stone overhead starts to shake.

And rumble.

And fall.

A rock breaks off above their heads, dropping heavily directly to their left.

“Fuck!” Peter holsters his blasters, and immediately, he and Gamora are tearing towards the entrance. They both seemed to recognize at the same instant that they either had to get out or find themselves buried in that goddamn cave, and when the plasma shots keep coming, the rocks just keep falling.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Another heavy boulder smashes to pieces directly in front of them, a second following, and then—

Before Peter even realizes what’s happening, Gamora is slamming her palms into his chest and half-shoving, half-tossing him clear as a third boulder falls—

—and lands right on Gamora’s head.

Peter hits his back gracelessly, most of the impact saved by his mask protecting the curve of his skull. Dazed as he is, he lifts his head for a desperate scan of the cave, picking out what he can with the infrared filters, trying to figure out where he ended up.

“Gamora!”

His voice comes out on a hoarse croak, terror making his chest tighten as he tries to scramble to his feet, to stumble towards where she’d just been standing.

In a heap on the ground, Gamora lies crumpled, a hand cradling the back of her head. The boulder that hit her apparently broke on impact, smashed off to the side, and finally (fucking finally), the blasts above them have completely stopped.

Where the entrance used to be, Peter can only see a pile of stone.

But, fuck, that doesn’t matter, and he drops immediately to his knees beside Gamora. In the stillness of the cave, he can hear and see the shuddering rise and fall of her shoulders, and— okay, okay, that means she’s alive. Good, because that would have killed any other fucking person, but Gamora is built to hold up to a hell of a lot – apparently including a giant concussion.

“Hey.” Peter’s voice still breaks as he reaches out to carefully pull Gamora’s hand from her head, and with the filters on his mask, he can see the dark smear on her fingers. Fuck, that’s a lot of blood. “Hey, Gamora, let’s sit up, huh?”

Gamora makes a nondescript noise, but he sees movement as she tries to get her other arm underneath her, to push herself up. Her elbows wobble, and then give out, but Peter’s arms are under her before she can completely collapse again.

“Whoa, I got you, it’s— hey, you’re good, c’mon.” He struggles to find a lightness in his voice that he doesn’t feel, but he helps Gamora sit up onto her knees, supporting her upper body almost entirely as he steadies her. “There, see— c’mon, open your eyes for me, okay?”

“Peter…?”

She winces as she tries to speak. Her eyes are heavily-lidded, barely fluttering open as she tries to focus on the glowing red of his mask.

“Yeah, I’m right here. See? I’m here, you’re okay.” Peter reaches out to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. He helps her keep her head up, even as her chin tries to dip towards her chest. “No, no, no, I need you to look right at me, okay?”

But her eyes are sliding closed.

“Gamora. Gamora.”

Whatever strength she managed to keep herself semi-upright seems to fail her, because Peter is suddenly left with the weight of Gamora fully in his arms. He swears under his breath, and fuck, he feels like he can barely breathe, can barely hear over the rush of his own frantic heart hammering in his ears, and no, no, she’s going to be fine. She just needs to hold out for her mods, just has to make it until her body can do something about the fucking head trauma, and— she can fix this. She’ll be fine. She can make it, but—

“Gamora.” The sound of her name is roughened by panic trying to claw into his chest, but he’s trying to be steady for her. He reaches up to quickly hit the trigger for his mask behind his ear, and with a flash of blue light, the metal recedes, taking the unearthly red glow with it. “Gamora, come on. You need—“

Deep breath. God, Quill, fucking pull it together.

“You need to wake up, okay? I— Gamora, you need to wake up, because I can’t do this without you.”

[cbairdash]

David sighed as he watched their cover story try to hold water like a colander.

David sighed as he watched their cover story try to hold water like a colander. Following the group back to the latest DAO approved rolling love child of a Star Destroyer and an energetic Mobile Home, he kept an ear turned toward the conversation. When the talk erupted in speculation about time, event horizons, and tachyon spills he rubbed the sides of his head.

“It’s just plain easier to just jump through the portal to lay the smack down on Dr. McScience-With-No-Morals than understand this stuff.” He muttered under his breath, remembering too late that Bianca could hear him at that level of tone. David’s whiskers picked up and his cheeks tugged back apologetically. Bianca shot a perturbed look then turned her attention back to the RV.

“So, what devices do they have again? What was the last reading taken?” Dr. Diggory’s voice snapped the air behind David.

He twitched, feeling the fur roll up his back. David found down the urge to jump, twist, hiss, throw a haymaker, or any of those other traditional ‘feline’ reactions. Instead, he let his tail swat the air with three sharp pops. When he turned, the doctor eyes were flitting between each member of the group.

Since silence was the first answer she got back, Dr. Diggory arched an eyebrow. In David’s time among the Geek-Set of the world, he understood that expression was tantamount to about a Defcon three, maybe a two, before frustrated nuclear nerdom would commence.

“Yeah, some,” he replied, trying to defuse the moment. When she locked a laser like gaze on him, David realized too late he might have tried to defuse the proverbial bomb by beating on it with a jackhammer. He flinched under her gaze.

“And?”

He pointed over his shoulder at the RV then adjusted his aim to indicate the way they arrived. “We used the scanning tech-thingie from the other RV. The er—” he scratched his chin with a claw “—one that got trashed? I don’t know if anything got uploaded.” He tried for a smile but was afraid it came out more feral than he hoped for. That or he worried he looked like he might have a hairball. “It might have backed up somewhere?”

Dr. Diggory’s mouth pulled into a thin line. David knew exasperation when he saw it. That would be a solid Defcon two.

“Y’know … to the cloud?” He added in an attempt to save the dying explanation.

When her arched eyebrow fell and a frown took over her face, David knew his dying explanation had flatlined on the proverbial table.

Bianca cleared her throat, drawing the doctor’s attention away from David. He let out a small sigh, feeling the tension bleed out from his whiskers to his toes.

“Tech-thingie?” Amy whispered.

“I got nervous!” David whispered back. “It felt like I was being given a pop quiz.”

“I kept a current backup of scans involving both the time portal and skull. I have them here, dated and organized for review.” Bianca held out a black cell phone sized device.

The doctor swiped through the information on the screen with a chorus of hums and the occasional ‘aha’. When she was done, she returned the device.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised all of you made it here at all. Based on those readings, the time portal is very unstable. The skull is having some effect on it, to what end I couldn’t say without more observation. I can’t say for certain, but because the two have been in such close contact that quantum entanglement of their residual event horizon energies is almost a certainty. That would explain the trouble the helicopter is having. Though, they won’t have it for long.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, squinting suspiciously at the doctor.

Diggory shrugged. “The field effect vibrations should harmonize soon. Provided they can manage the shifting graviton effect, the transition is a certainty. They would have possibly already transitioned but not be in synch with our current wave harmonics.”

Alex glanced at the others. “Right. Weapons, I know. Those words? I know them when they’re not all in one sentence together.”

David stared at Diggory and blinked while memories bumped against what the doctor said. When the mental collision was done, he pursed his lips. Instead of blurting out or making a joke to lead into what he wanted to say, David took a different approach. He started to raise his hand, stopped himself, then cleared his throat.

“You’re saying the Kerr ring wasn’t stable,” he said. “It wasn’t when we had the things and they aren’t now. That’s what happened on the road. When a mage hit us with a plasma ball or whatever it was, it excited the Kerr ring causing it to go stable for a moment. When the spell bled out, the ring collapsed taking that Einstein-Rosen bridge with it. Maybe us if we’d been closer to the entrance.”

Even the wind stopped moving when everything around David went cemetery silent. A nervous twitch scaled his spine and ran around his fur for a moment. His whiskers pulled back against his muzzle. He glanced around then shrugged.

“Ok, back home I knew a guy who was into the cross dimensional science. Talked a lot about it. I went a looked a few things up. Some stuck.” When no one replied, he rubbed his nose. “Ok. But I’m pretty sure I’m right in what I said. Anyway, doc, from what you just said, the black helicopter is already here. They flew through a Kerr ring - I mean wormhole - to do it. But it put them dimensionally out of sync temporarily.”

“How ‘temporarily’?” asked Amy.

“Uh, temporary temporary? They could be roaming around right now. They wouldn’t be able to mess with us, or us futz with them. We’d be like ghosts to them. But they’re from this ‘harmonic’ so they’ll start vibrating in synch soon. Which means they’ll appear out of nowhere to us.”

At the mention of ‘ghost’ Bianca’s eyes shot wide. “Like a temporal ghost?” Her voice was hushed.

David shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Alex nodded, rubbing his chin. “So we’re talking about a type of cloaking tech. Right. Let me at the weapons stash. I need to make some mods before we get guests comin’ over for dinner.”

“I still think it’s a whole lot easier to just jump through one to apply the punchy to some Dr. McScience-Without-Morals,” David muttered to Amy. She patted him on the shoulder sympathetically.

David turned to Dr. Diggory. “Doc, at the risk of mangling a movie quote, really you’d better stay with us if you’re wanting to stay safe.”