#rainbowtransformwrites

[rainbowtransform]

The Means to An End

First Part here, or read it on AO3

It’s years down the line before Shuri finally cracks the code in Tony’s game. She’d locked away the phone and didn’t even glance at it until her children pulled it out of its hiding spot and show it to her.

“We can’t crack it,” they told her, staring. Her fingers shake, and she opens the familiar game. The Black Panther comes on screen and it meows like a kitten. Shuri’s eyes fill with tears and she sinks down, cradling the game.

Her children go to find their father.

KuKhanya, May, and Ubomi come running in with Peter. He stares at her, glances at the game and tells their children to go to their rooms. “Umama is just thinking  of someone we used to know. Go.”

“Listen to your father,” Shuri chokes out, and they turn, fleeing. Peter sits next to her, doesn’t glance over, and says, quietly “I still miss him.”

“I know.”

“It feels like he’s still here.”

“Yeah.”

“Did he make that?”

“I got it when I was sixteen. He’d given it to me. Told T’Challa that I would crack it when I’m older. When he died, I…” She swallowed.

“You stowed it away.”

“Yeah.”

“You know Karen?”

“The first suit Tony’d given you?”

“Yeah. You know why I asked you to make me a completely new one and not upgrade my old one?”

“Because you’re a boy.”

“Excuse you,” he shot back in a snooty white voice. “I’m a man.”

Shuri giggles.

“No. It’s because the suit’s the first thing Tony gave me. It… reminds me of him.”

The game feels cold under Shuri’s hands. “I’m suppose to crack it,” she whispers. Peter nods, and offers his own hand. “If you’re going to try, I’m not going to stop you,” he tells her. “But I’m not going to let it mess up your sleep schedule.”

Shuri’s lips curl into a smile. “You sound like my brother,” she says.

“Considering we haven’t heard from him in a few weeks, that’s an improvement.”

“He’s taken a vacation.”

“Yeah, from everything.”

“He deserves it.”

“Always.”

Shuri shrieks, throwing the game away from her. “This is impossible!” She screams. The children are in school, and Peter sighs. “NADĚJE, monitor Shuri’s blood pressure.”

“Monitoring Creator’s states.”

“Ha, ha,” Shuri scowls. “NADĚJE, cancel order.”

“Order canceled.”

“Still haven’t figured out how to get them human-like?”

“Nope.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Do you know?” Shuri asked, jabbing a finger at him from behind, eyes locked on the code streaming steadily from the computer screen.

“It’s Tony’s secret.”

“He took it to the grave,” Shuri smiles grimly. “I would have loved to know it.”

“NADĚJE, could you order some pizza?”

“From where, Creator’s Second?”

“I don’t know, surprise me?”

“I am not programmed for that.”

Peter sighs. Shuri bangs her fist against the computer’s desk. “Hey,” Peter says grabbing it gently. “We’re not hurting the computer; it hasn’t done anything.”

“This is one of the reasons I hate Tony. But the code is beautiful and complex, and it seems just like… something I’ve seen before.”

“Why don’t we try it, together?” Peter suggests.

“I’m smarter than you, Peter.”

“I know, Shuri. But maybe you need a fresh set of eyes. You’ve been working on this as a sixteen-year-old, and,” he checks his watch. “Now it’s been six days, four hours, thirteen minutes, twenty-six seconds. Twenty-seven seconds. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-o”

“I get it!” She says yanking her hands back.

“You’re also running on six hours of sleep, spread across those six days. An hour a day, Shuri. An hour.”

“It isn’t my fault,” she mumbles. “My mind runs through eighty-thousand scenarios per minute.”

“Yes, which is why I want to help.” Peter leans over, pressing his lips gently on Shuri’s. “Let me help you?”

She pushes him away. “Fine, you puppy-dog boy.”

It takes them three months to finally crack the code, and they both are wide-eyed, slack-jawed as they stare at the hologram.

“Hey, Shuri,” Tony Stark says. He’s in his lab, eyes bright and he smiles. “This is going to be pretty weird, huh? But, listen, do you have Peter there? You do remember Peter right?”

The two adults grip each other’s arms. “Ah, you guys are basically inseparable. I’m even sure that you guys are going to get married, too. Maybe have a couple kids. Four, I’d guess. This is for everyone I’d left behind, basically. I’m not going to lie to you guys. I don’t expect to win this fight. I’ve… got something Thanos really wants. Something he’s been craving. But he’ll have to kill me before I reveal anything to him.”

“I’m going to go with Rhodey, because he’s my best friend. Rhodey’s been with me through thick and thin, wouldn’t take my shit or my money. ‘Charity,’ he’d called it. But… he’d invited me to his room, put up with DUM-E for years. I really hope his kids know what a good father he’s going to be.”

(Rhodey’s been dead for three years.)

“Pepper… she’s the love of my life. She couldn’t take me being a hero, and honestly? I never expected her to. She’s different. Doesn’t take my shit, keeps my mind on track, has 12% of my company,” Tony’s smile is thin. “She’s the best thing anyone could ask for. Happy’s being intertwined with her because he’s the best boxing buddy-slash-driver I could ever ask for. He’s the best person to talk to.”

(Both Pepper and Happy left the country. Last Peter and Shuri heard of them, they remet up and had been tanning by the beach together drinking and swapping stories of other places they’d been since the kids took over the company and they’d left.)

“The Avengers,” here Tony’s face darkens just slightly. “They’re following Roger’s lead. I don’t know what they’re doing now. Hopefully some sense has been knocked into them. Scott’s got a daughter, and Clint’s got a whole fucking family. They’ll grow soon.”

(They’re still together. The only difference is that there’s no one to be their scapegoat anymore. It’s rather sad.)

“The New Avengers are the my pride and joy, honestly. They’re the best team anyone can ask for, and they act like a family. They’re teens, but their better together than apart. I’m proud of them, and I hope they know this.”

(They do, they really do. Shuri swallows, hard, and Peter’s arm tightens.)

“Peter’s my first ‘mission’ so to say. Clint’s not the only one to recruit Avengers. I know Peter, and he’s going to do things with or without someone’s permission. I just hope he knows the sacrifices, and how hard it is. Especially if you’re dating a civilian. Pretty sure Shuri’s okay with that, though,” Tony smiled bitterly. “Just know… I’m always going to be proud of you, kid. Anything you do. Except the things I did, and the things I wouldn’t do.”

“Shuri…” Tony huffed. “You’ve either turned forty-seven, which is when the code gets easier, or you’d finally asked for help.” He raises an eyebrow. “What took you so long? The game’s designed to know if you’re working with someone else, and it’s better to figure out… you know. A place. How’s Vision, by the way? The Bots? FRIDAY?”

(Vision disappeared, years ago. Peter heard a rumor, once, about a man with a stone in his forehead who was helping others. When asked, he’d reply “It’s what my grandfather would want,” and turn away. They haven’t heard from FRIDAY since she’d broken the news that Tony was dead, and the bots are still shut down. They’re clean, spick-span even though they aren’t ‘alive’ anymore.)

“Vision’s gone, if I’m really thinking ahead. He’s… upset, probably. Angry, scared. Hopefully he’s going to a therapist. If FRIDAY’s shut down, you just got to rewire her to accept you as her new boss; she’d understand. The bots are different, and you can’t trick them into coming back online. The only ones who can do that is JARVIS. I didn’t have enough time to implement it. She’s learning, and she’ll continue learning.”

“That’s probably it. Um. Oh! Kit-Cat said you liked this one video of me dancing. Welp, here’s a side-by-side of me as sixteen, twenty-five, thirty, and thirty-five doing it. Oh… tell T’Challa that it didn’t matter he’d kept the Exvengers. It was better that they were in Wakanada rather than them loose on the world.”  Tony sighs. “If I survive this, I’m thinking maybe, maybe, I’ll consider going on that date with you.”

And Shuri understands. After Tony died, T’Challa grew distant for a time before coming back. He didn’t marry, despite the councils’ insistence that he “must have a wife, or husband,” and T’Challa had laughed with Shuri.

“They can’t make me,” he tells her. “I can’t, Shuri. For right now, I can’t.” And his eyes were distant, in a place Shuri couldn’t follow.

“Who broke your heart, brother?” Shuri had asked. “Who held your heart tight in their grip, and hurt it?”

“Someone who is longer with us,” T’Challa told her. (And for all her genius, she didn’t ask for help for Tony’s game, and didn’t figure out it was him that T’Challa gave his heart to.)

Shuri and Peter replay the message twenty times over. So much that KuKhanya had come downstairs, and blinked at the sight of her parents watching a strange man. “I’ve seen him,” she said. “On TV. They said he was smart.”

“Not smarter than me,” Shuri jokes.

KuKhanya shrugs. “I don’t know, Umama, he seems smarter than Father.”

Peter mock-gasped and Shuri burst into a round of giggles.

The next time T’Challa visited, Shuri showed him the video. He swallowed, reached out and brushed through the hologram.

“Why didn’t you tell me, before?”

“He must’ve made some last-minute additions to it before he’d died. See? The code of… dancing is decades old, but the one where he’s talking? That’s the day before he died. See? See the difference in color of the code?”

“Yes.”

There’s silence, and then Shuri asks. “Why didn’t you tell me about you and him?”

T’Challa’s smile is bitter, small, and he replies with: “There was no point, sister. Remembering and loving the dead like family is different from a lovers’ death. It’s more painful.”

“Especially since you’re… the Black Panther?”

“Yes, Shuri. Especially since that.”

When they turn and exit the lab, they go to the children sitting around eating dinner. Peter has a Kiss the Cook, He’s Spider-Man apron on and is serving chicken parasame around the table. “Uncle T’Challa!” They all shriek, and he smiles.

“Eat,” Shuri tells them, giving them the mother-eye. KuKhanya sighs, and Shuri looks at her.

“You are the Heir to Wakanda,” she tells her daughter. “You have to do things you don’t like, KuKhanya.”

KuKhanya pokes at her food. “I don’t want it,” she mumbles. “Not if there’s all these rules and things to go with it. Especially making a heir?” She scowls. “Why can’t Ubomi or May do it?”

“If you don’t marry, that’s okay. But that means making a heir falls onto one of your siblings’ shoulder. They’re still young, aren’t they?”

“May’s three years younger, and Ubomi’s a year younger than May.”

“Don’t talk back to your mother,” Peter says from the kitchen.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaad,” she whines playfully.

After dinner, T’Challa asks if the children wish to hear a story. They are excited, elated, because ‘Uncle T’Challa’s stories are the best! Better than Dad’s!’

“There was once a boy, young and full of life. But life was cruel to the boy, and gave him a bad father and a neglectful mother. But, mercy was kind, and gave the boy a nice frien-”

“What’s his name?”

“His name?” T’Challa smiles. “It’s Tony.”

No one notices a spark fizzing from the game they’d left on. No one sees something traveling through wires and electrical places. There’s something in the lab, but no one sees it.

DUM-E, U, and ButterFingers come online, slowly, sensing something unfamiliar yet fatherly. FRIDAY overrides NADĚJE and with a whispery, fluttery, little-girl-meeting-her-father, whispers:

“Boss?”

[rainbowtransform]

Close Your Eyes

Arthur’s let out of the bars three days after Merlin dies. The flower is gone, Uther took it with him and he wouldn’t give it to Gaius.

“Arthur,” Uther greets warmly when he comes by.

“Sire,” Arthur says, eyes straightforward. His mouth tightens when Uther claps a hand onto his shoulder but he doesn’t look over.

“Let us rejoice for the boy who’d given his life to keep my son alive!” Uther says, and the crowds’ murmurs of “what?” “Merlin?” “no,” made Arthur’s eyes tear.

Arthur said nothing else.

“Do you have to go?” Arthur asks, voice quiet like he’s a child again. Gaius stops packing his things, and closes his eyes - fingers gripping his satchel.

“Yes, sire.” He tells Arthur. “I must inform Merlin’s mother.”

“Can I come?”

Gaius sits down next to Arthur. “I know what you’re thinking, Arthur. But you can’t run from this. You are the heir to the throne. If you manage to escape - and I know you can - Uther will tear this world apart just to find you. And when he does, he’ll chain you like he did the Great Dragon, and you won’t be able to leave.”

“Why? Why did he do this, Gaius?” Unshed tears glimmered in Arthur’s eyes.

“Your father… is a horrible, horrible father,” Gaius tells. “He conceived you by magic, believe he was an exempt of the Old Religion’s rules.”

“What?”

Gaius pats Arthur’s shoulder. “I shall explain more when I return.”

“Gaius!”

Uther sits at the table, eating. “So, Arthur, what do you think of your new servant?” He leans forward, eyes bright.

Arthur doesn’t say anything.

“Arthur?” Uther snaps. He narrows his eyes. “Speak.”

Morgana sits across from Arthur, and she leans her hand over. “Are you okay, Arthur?” She asks him and he jerks his hand away quickly. Standing up, he excuses himself with forced politeness (only to the servants in that room) and exit the dining room, the sering boy following behind him like a dog with a master.

“What shall we do?”

“What are we willing to do?”

“Uther did a terrible thing.”

“And he killed our Emrys.”

“Balance is upset.”

“Nimueh did the same. She was the one who poisoned our Emrys.”

“They both must be punished.”

“What shall we do?”

“What can we do?”

Uther’s eyes flicker toward Camelot. “What?” He asked, brows furrowing.

“Sire, the crops have all burned. The water is gone; the Great Dragon has escaped it’s bonds; Camelot is burning.”

“We have some crops stored up, yes?”

“Sire… the… those crops have been eaten.”

“ Eaten ? How?”

“Wild animals. Hawks, eagles, deer, bears.”

“How did a bear get into Camelot, and out?”

“We know not, Sire.”

“We cannot let them all die. The Once and Future King needs to rule Camelot - and the people.”

“The people, the people! Pah! They’d allowed this!”

“They did not. Blame them not.”

“Poor, poor Emrys.”

A hand floats over the sky, and it upturns a beautiful, magic-filled soul. The Old Religion shrieks as the hand plucks it away.

“Mine, mine, mine!” The Old Religion screams, her shrieks louder than her words. Non-magic and magic users clap their hands over their ears as they listen. Only one boy - man - still stands, hands not over his ears, but listening.

“Oh, quiet down. We’re going to give him back.”

“Mine, mine, mine!” She screamed again.

“Quiet her down.”

The hand holds up the Soul, and they all sigh heavily. “Our Emrys,” they sigh.

Nimueh gasped for breath. Something is choking her. She takes a tiny breath, and chants an incantation - a healing spell. Her throat grows tighter and she begins choking.

She wonders what is happening, and voice whispers, deep in the back of her mind:

“This is how My Emrys felt.”

“She’s dying, she’s dying, she’s dying,” the Old Religion cheers. The gods hush her quickly, and are trying to rock the Soul back to sleep.

“There you go, little one,” they whisper. “Back to sleep, Emrys, back to sleep.”

The Soul’s brightness fades just slightly. “There we go, there we go,” they whisper.

“Give him. Mine. Give him.” The Old Religion whispers. “Give him, mine.” She keeps saying.

“Hush. Balance is not right.”

“Balance is wrong.”

“Balance is wrong.”

“Balance is wrong.”

“Balance is wrong.”

“Yes, balance is wrong.”

Merlin opens his eyes.

[rainbowtransform]

Lancetober: Day 7, Water

The late start of Lacetober Prompts for myself! Thanks to @wondere11e for the actually prompts! (I don’t quite like it, but I’m posting it anyway. You can also see it on AO3 right here) Enjoy!

Water, Lance thinks.

Water is weird. He’s staring at liquid dripping from his fingers.

Why is it called water? Lance squints at the liquid, before wiping it off onto his jeans.

It could have been called something else. Like ‘wet’ or ‘blue’ or ‘wooo.’

There’s a purring in his ears. Lance turns around, head tilted listening. There’s someone else in the room with him.

But it’s called water. Why?

Lance pushes himself off the wall he’d suddenly found himself against. The wall is an old friend of his, Lance remembers. Walls don’t have feelings, or judgemental looks. They don’t judge him on his problems, or diagnose him with anything and it just listens.

I don’t know. But you can call it aqua, too.

Lance shrugs before turning around to stumble away from the wall.

Can you remember that, Lancey?

Yes, Lance thinks. He remembers to aqua means water. Should he go get aqua? He doesn’t know yet.

Water is weird, Mama.

Lance turns his head slowly to the side, watching a little boy and his mother walk hand-in-hand down the street.

Yes.

They are eating ice cream cones. Lance misses ice cream; he misses burgers and pizza and everything else Earth has brought him.

I love the water.

The little boy turns to his mother, beaming a smile at her. The mother smiles right back, smile stretching, and she hugs the boy.

You’re drawn to the water. Just like your grandfather.

Lance blinks. “Just like abuelo.” He murmurs before he continues on his way. He makes it outside, and everyone is looking at him. Lance smiles at them, tightly, and Keith rolls his eyes.

“We’ve been waiting,” Keith says. Lance’s fingers are covered in liquid. Hunk is the first to notice.

“Buddy? What’s on your hands?” Hunk asks, coming closer. Lance blinks at him before looking at his hands. They’re red. Oh.

Red. Red it… bad, isn’t it?

“Yeah,” Hunk says, and tries to pry Lance’s hands away from the wound. “Red is bad, Lance.”

Lance makes a distressed noise before slumping against Hunk’s shoulder. With a shout, Hunk catches him and Lance passes out.

[rainbowtransform]

It’s Something (Chapter 2)

Read the first installment here, or go to AO3 here. Enjoy!

When Tony asked FRIDAY to take down every single video of him and Steve Rogers fighting, FRIDAY knew she'd need to do something else. So, instead, she searched for Siberia's footage. 

(Zemo, the old bat, had the cameras running. No doubt planning to go over the footage and cackle evilly.) Scrambling YouTube's page; she searched for Peter's YouTube when he was on. 

(She knew who Quality was. Who didn't? Oh, right. Everyone else.)

[Read more, mobile users]

FRIDAYLOVER345: Hello, Peter

Quality: Friday? What're you doing? What's going on?

FRIDAYLOVER345: I need you to do something for me. Post this video, Peter.

Quality: Why? Friday? Friday, answer me!

FRIDAYLOVER345: YouTube will be reassembled in a few hours. Post the video then. I'm downloading it to your computer. Please don't let me down, Peter Parker.

FRIDAY cut all ties soon after downloading the video. She kept it all on the down-low and kept Tony calm. (Until he finds the video she sent Peter. Her sources say that Peter uploaded it just a few hours ago.)

BOOTEAMCAP: Wait, what? Is that... Bucky? Steve's friend? And did Zemo kill everyone? What???????????????

32 Replies

ArentWeInsane: I think the most important question is: is that Howard and Maria Stark?!

OhKillThem: Is Bucky killing Howard and Maria?!

HelloSteveRogers: I mean, Bucky was brainwashed, so it shouldn't really count as murder. Should it?

579 Replies

KeepItTogether: Hell yes, it should! Even if he was brainwashed, he just killed two people.

KeepDanFit: I get what Rogers meant, but still. Yeah, Bucky was brainwashed but... like... those are the Starks. Tony was just... what? 23 or something when they died? He's still like an almost-adult.

TeamCapAllTheWay: Tony could have calmed down, man. I mean, he didn't have to actually blow Bucky's arm off. That looks like it hurts.

3,420 Replies

Quality: Tony Stark had PTSD. See how he flinched when Barnes practically shoved his hand out to touch the arc reactor? It triggered Tony; and he blasted Barnes's arm off in self-defense.

WeGot$$$: I'D LOVE TO SEE YOUR FACE IF YOU'RE PARENTS GOT MURDERED AND THEIR MURDERER WAS BEHIND YOU! God, the way he looked at Steve.

ManThesePeepsAintGotNothingOnMe: Wait. Did... did Steve try to kill Tony?

340 Replies

CoolAidBro: Yup

ImNotGay: Captain America just up and left Tony? He's practically dying! What the fuck, Rogers?!

678 Replies

ImGay: Look at him. Rogers just took Bucky and left. Tony's dying! HE WAS YOUR FAMILY! WHAT THE -

DontForgetAboutMe: I don't think that he really was.

PeopleIzSpeakin: Steve knew? CAPTAIN AMERICA KNEW BUCKY BARNES AKA WINTER SOLDIER HAD KILLED THE STARKS AND HE TOLD TONY NOTHING?!

26 Replies

BabyWeGotGood: Did you hear Tony's voice when he said "So was I,"? OMG, Steve needs to stop

Peter's followers really took his Support Iron Man to the next level. This morning, Peter got a message (through the grapevine) that everyone should wear red today. Peter yanked on a red Spider-Man shirt and some jeans. Pulling on his bookbag, Peter quickly tried to brush his hair down before running down the steps.

"Peter!" May called, turning around just to catch her nephew eating a forkful of pancakes. He grinned at her and May waved a spatula around. "Go, go! Take some bacon with you! And don't forget to bring some for Harry!" Peter waved back before exciting, eating the bacon quickly.

Everyone was wearing red shirts. Peter studied everyone quietly. He wonders what the ex-Avengers would say if they'd found it out. Especially Wanda Maximoff. Peter grimaced as someone walked past, sporting a Captain America T-shirt. The New Yorkers were whispering behind their hands. "He must be from out of town," they said. "Hopefully, they watch Quality's video soon." Others continued to say.

It took the media two days to get the footage; and showing it on the news. Peter had watched it by himself, and wanted to laugh as the news began their long spew of how Captain America no longer supported the country. Especially with the 117 countries.

Peter sighed. At least, New York was still with them. Peter hoped that the ex-Avengers would see this one day. Because, no matter what, New York protects its own.

[rainbowtransform]

It’s Something

Kept meaning to post this a while ago, never did. Enjoy! (PSSST: Read it on Ao3 here) I’ll post the other chapter, too! 

It was Peter who uploaded the videos on YouTube. He’d hacked into the airport’s security and took the grainy, sometimes-unfocused video and cleaned it up a bit. When the sound got fuzzy Peter attempted to make it sound clearer, when the camera unfocused, Peter tried to zoom and enhance it to help everyone see who really struck first. His YouTube name, Quality, exploded as more and more people watched the video. And no one knew it was tiny Peter Parker who’d done it. Peter was okay with that.

(Read more, mobile users!)

WestSideStory34: Wait, what? I thought they’d resolved this before? Like, the reason Captain America left was because of the Accords, right? Because he didn’t like it. And then he tried to take his friend again????? And Iron Man was trying to help????? But Cap????? Said no???????? and attacked him??????????  

63 Replies

Twerp: Pretty much

KeepHerRunning: Sad day when superheroes turn on each other.

One@ndonly: How do we know ur not lying? U could have altered this crap.

234 Replies

DontTellMe: R u dumb?

Wurrble: It’s a valid question, but I’m pretty sure Quality is correct. They’ve never lied to us before.

R@andom: Wait, wait, wait! Did he… did falcon just swerve to move out of Vision’s hit and let it hit war machine instead?! And he let him fall?!

27 Replies

#TeamIronMan: I mean, he did look back but still. They fought together and Falcon just went onto Captain America’s team without a second thought.

WestPhilidaplia: did you guys see how tony dove after him?? and tony’s cry for him??? that was sad.

$Bucks$: i thought captain america was for us??? but he just… he just left his teammates there??? espeically iron man and war machine.

89 Replies

*Force*: they ain’t teammates anymore

&And&: i hope war machine makes a good recovery!

   Sixteen days passed before Peter relogged on his YouTube account with good news. He plastered it on the Comments section:

Quality: War machine = stable. The doctors say he’s going to make a speedy recovery. Thanks, everyone, for the support and stuff

And Peter logged off before anyone could reply to his comment.

It took the media three of those sixteen days to get Peter’s video on their talk. They showed it and spoke about “some brave person, wanting to set the record straight and help us understand what really went down at the airport.” Aunt May sat and watched the whole thing; and Peter saw tears as leaked down her face as War Machine fell; and Tony zipped after him.

   He watched her suddenly rage in silence, because goddammit, they just wanted them to be accountable! He watched Tony Stark’s dementor change as Peter realized that without the Avengers Tony was free. He didn’t have to act a certain way - not around Peter, Pepper, Bruce (who’d come as soon as he’d heard about what happened), and Rhodey.

   Peter made a trend on Twitter. (As Peter Parker, of course)

SpideySpell @tonystark: tomorrow, everyone draw circles on your palms. As a tribute to Tony Stark that we

SpideySpell @tonystark: believe in him

Peter even cut two circles into his costume’s palms (he’d regret it later). Tony called him a few hours later. “Peter,” he said quietly, warningly. Peter pretended ot be innocent. “What?” He asked before shrugging. “It’s okay, Mr Stark - Tony. We believe in you.” Tony sighed. “I know, kid. But take it off.”

   So Peter did.

 It didn’t stop people from doing it. Peter himself walked out of the house, two large circles drawn in bolt on his palms. Before he left the house, he saw Aunt May’s palms when she handed him his lunchbag. A circle.

   He walked out of his home and practically everyone had drawn circles and some even took it to the next level and made phone cases. (#IronMan was the logo; there was also a We Believe in Iron Man ; Peter bought it.)

   Walking to school, Peter felt like this would help a lot of things. People were helping others. They understood the truth. And Tony Stark was okay. And Peter loved it.

[rainbowtransform]

Innocent

Enjoy the story. Read it on AO3

They find the Unsub outside a gas station. He’s just sitting there, eating peanuts and humming quietly to himself. He stares, uninterested and detached from reality as he looks on. Morgan pulls his gun out, and the rest of the team follows.

“Put your hands up!” Morgan barks, and the Unsub’s eyes catch on Morgan’s. “You are under arrest!” The Unsub seems calm, as he gets out of the car. The packet of peanuts are still in his hands. He is quiet for a moment, before sighing.

“You’re persistent,” he says before setting down the peanuts and putting up his hands. Emily immediately shoves him against the car and cuffs him. They lead him away, reading his rights.

They’re watching him as he watches the mirror. He’s sitting on top of the table, criss-cross style. The hand that is cuffed to the table is behind him, and it has to be hurting him but he’s just sitting there. His hazel eyes are wide and patient.

It’s Rossi who realized this Unsub will wait them out - before they can wait out him.

They decide to send JJ and Emily into the room. Them, together, seem to make him very uncomfortable. JJ watches Emily as she paces the floor next to the Unsub.

“Why’d you do it?” Emily asks suddenly. “Why, in the world, would you start this?”

The Unsub’s eyes narrow and his lips purse. “Henry said it was time.” He said.

“Henry?” JJ asks.

The Unsub’s eyes flick to the right, to the mirror, and then to the left, where the door is. He looks behind him, and seems to search for something.

He beckons JJ over, and leans down to whisper “Henry doesn’t like it when we talk about him when he’s not here.”

“Where is he, now?” Emily asks.

The Unsub’s eyes widen and he swallows, hard. He throws his head back, and lays down on the table. His eyes flicker to the mirror again and he swallows.

“JJ,” he says suddenly. “JJ has a son named Henry, doesn’t she?” He sits upward, and stares at JJ. “Don’t you?” He persists.

JJ doesn’t answer. Emily slams her fist down on the table, and the Unsub jumps. He stares at Emily.

JJ’s eyes widen. The unsub leans back against the table. “Emily ‘die-”

Emily’s face fell slack, and she flew out of the room. The door slammed behind her and the Unsub started. “I think I hit a nerve.” He said quietly. JJ’s hand raised, and moved forward just a half-inch before she, too, walked out of the room. The unsub just tilted his head, like a puppy, before beginning to hum again.

The air smells like fish. He feels like gagging. But he doesn’t. Instead, the person sitting in front of him tells him what it is. Fish hearts. Keeps out the demons.

He sees the camera sitting behind the walls and three computers behind a desk. He doesn’t want to see anything. He closes his eyes, and think of different times.

“Why does he keep looking at the mirror?” JJ asks. Hotch’s eyes narrow.

“It seems like he’s waiting for someone - or some thing .” Rossi says. He blinks, narrowing his eyes at the Unsub.

“Let’s go, Hotch. Me and you.”

He stares at the two men who come in. Brown hair flops downward. He seems to shrink into himself.

“He isn’t comfortable around Alpha males.” Morgan notes. The others nod.

“Well, that’s why he killed those boys, right? And those girls?” JJ says and the others look at each other.

“I mean, yeah,” Emily says. The others frown.

Hotch comes out of the room, ashen-faced and Rossi follows just a few short steps behind. “Hotch-” Rossi begins and Hotch cuts him off.

“He talked about Haley. How could he know?”

“The internet!”

“Okay, how’d he know your wife committed suicide?”

“The news.”

“Rossi. He talked about her disease; and how did he know you’re divorce vows? I didn’t even know you had divorce vows.”

Rossi’s lips pursed. “Hotch, you can’t let him get under your skin.”

“I want to know how he knows.”

“Fine,” Rossi says. “Find Garcia.”

Morgan’s eyes snap toward Hotch’s. “If he knows all of your guys’ stories, what’s to say he doesn’t know Garcia’s? Or mine?”

“Yours has been expunged. Garcia’s was never put out,” Hotch explained calmly. “If he found anything then it’s either on paper or computer. Garcia has been keeping track of everything, quietly, and she already recalled many papers on things that you’d done.” Hotch sighs.

“Let’s get her.” Rossi rubs his eyes.

The Unsub is actually sitting in the chair now, and Garcia and Derek walk in.

“Hey,” Garcia says. The unsub’s mouth turns up slightly. “Want some water?” She asks, holding out a cup. The unsub accepts it, and stares into the liquid.

He takes a tiny, tiny sip. Morgan watches him quietly. The unsub doesn’t look happy with the liquid. “Just water?” He asks, then smiles again.

“I’m being demanding. Sorry.” He takes another, tiny sip. “What do you guys want?” He blinks his large, hazel eyes again and his hair flops in his face.

Morgan pulls out a few crime scene photos. He shows them to the unsub. He blinks, tilts his head again, and just sighs. Leaning back, he takes another sip of water before setting it down.

“It’s bloody,” he says.

“It’s your work.”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you proud?”

“It’s not my work.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You just did.”

“I think you are a liar.”

“We’re not talking about me.”

“How far did you have to dig?” His eyes turned to Garcia and she stammered.

“What?”

“How. Far. Did. You. Have. To. Dig?” He asked again, slowly.

“Very far,” she said softly.

Morgan leaned back against the chair. “How far did you?” He questioned.

The unsub blinked, looking over. “How far did I what?”

“Dig.”

“I didn’t.”

“You must’ve.”

“My mind supplied the answers.”

“You’re lying.”

The unsub’s eyes blinked. “My mind in complicated. Do you want brain scans? You can go search my apartment for them.”

“See, we’ve already done that.” Morgan leaned forward. “And the brain scan that you’ve got? They’ve all been forged.”

He frowned. “No. They haven’t.”

“You know the part where the brain separates reality from fantasy? It’s broken. Unconnected. You’re brain is gone. Done for.”

The unsub narrows his eyes again. “My brain is fine,” he says.

Morgan smiles. “No. You’re crazy.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve gone mad.”

“I haven’t!”

“Just like…”

“Stop.”

“Diana Reid.”

Spencer Reid’s eyes lift and the corner of his mouth lifts up slightly before he suddenly screams, clasping his head into his hands. Garcia stumbles back, not expecting it. Morgan gets up quickly and turns to guide Garcia out.

“Garcia and Kevin, sittin’ in a tree,” Spencer sings out suddenly and Garcia stiffens. “Morgan tryin’ to fix the past.” Morgan’s eye twitched.

“Hotch doesn’t accept; Emily doesn’t trust; Rossi doesn’t let go; Morgan’s upset; JJ wants to go home; Will wants Henry to be happy; Henry wants JJ; Kevin wants Garcia; Garcia wants Kevin; Morgan wants the BAU; Hotch wants the BAU; Emily wants the BAU; Rossi wants the BAU; Garcia wants the BAU.”

Spencer frowned. “None of them need or want Spencer Reid.” He says quietly.

“Oh.” Spencer says.

“ Oh ,” he repeats.

“What are we doing with him?” Morgan asks.

“Send him to the mental institution.” Hotch replies. “He’s way too…”

“Crazy.” Emily said.

“To be in prison.”

Spencer goes quietly. He doesn’t make a scene; or scream. He just sits there and hums quietly. The BAU visits him time to time, tries to get him to speak with them. To tell them how he’d managed to kill those victims. Spencer doesn’t answer, except saying: “They don’t need you in this Universe. If they don’t need me, why am I here?” And he’s fiddling with a Rubix cube.

Morgan took it from him, once, and he blinked. “Four minutes, ten seconds, five point one millisecond.”

“What?”

“That’s how long it took me the last time.” Spencer says and then Morgan gives it back.

They stop visiting him. They talk about it every couple of days. Why did they go? Because of Spencer’s hazel eyes? Because of his baby-like expression? Because it suddenly felt wrongwhen Spencer went away? Why? When did the kid worm his way into their hearts? And how ?

Spencer doesn’t write to them - not anymore. Maybe it’s for the best.

Dear BAU Team,

This is my last letter. Don’t ask. I have to go away for a while. I don’t think I’m going to come back. I’ve… done a lot. But I’m going to tell you something: I didn’t kill those people. I didn’t. Orion Le Guiel did. But he’s gone now. Dead.

No I didn’t kill him. He overdosed on drugs. Too little, too late, right? Anyway, I’m going to stop writing now. It’s almost time for me to go.

See you in another place,

Spencer Reid

Spencer takes one more look at the place he’d called home for so many days.

“It’s time to go now.” The Universe says.

“Just a few more minutes?”

“Spencer.”

“I know.”

Spencer places six finished Rubix cubes on the desk. There’s a seventh one, hidden away, not finished. If they bother searching for it, maybe they’d finish it. Then, Spencer would know it’s time for him to go back. But right here - right now - the BAU team works well. They don’t need a seventh member; and Spencer’s happy to keep going with the plans.

“Come.” The Universe beckons him, quickly, and opens a small portal. Spencer steps through, his eyes closed and fingers lax on his messenger bag. He doesn’t know where he’ll end up. Maybe in an universe where they actually need Spencer. He doesn’t open his eyes for a long time, and when he does, he’s still falling.

They find the unfinished cube in the air ducts. Who knows how it ended up in there. But they find it, and they try to finish it. But it’s impossible. The colors change; and the Cube itself rotates by itself like it’s built for something else.

The closer they got to the finish, the more the Cube seemed to stop. But the next day, the cube would be back at its original condition. It’s something they try to do on days off; or when there isn’t any cases. Try to fix the Cube.

Then they retire.

The Cube is still there. Derek, Emily, Rossi, Hotch, Garcia, and JJ all moves on and retired. Grew old and died. But, somewhere along the line, something happened. Something wronghappened somewhere, and the “original” BAU team came back, just as they were before, only different now.

They are part of a show now. “Criminal Minds” is what they’re called. They finish the cube (somehow) and, before the first episode aired, they found Matthew (or Spencer). Emily and Rossi aren’t there for a while; they can’t be. They haven’t been hired yet. There’s still Gideon and Elle, and Spencer loves them because even though they haven’t stayed, they can’t. The Universe won’t allow it.

Spencer keeps their pictures in his wallet. He misses them sometimes. Misses Elle’s laugh and Gideon’s chess strategy. But he’s got the others now. (Though, he doesn’t think the Universe will be kind and leave them be. He knows one of them will leave, and another family member will take their place.)

He doesn’t tell them the truth. He can’t. He wishes he could but he can’t. Spencer hopes, beyond hope, he’ll have good memories from this place before he leaves. He thinks he would, but good memories sometimes fade over time.

Spencer will fight for his family. He will try to protect them as much as possible. Just until he has to leave - because then he’d have done what the Universe asked of him.

[rainbowtransform]

It’s Something (Chapter 3, Final)

Read the first and second installment, or read it on AO3. Could be read apart, I guess. 

Peter’s there when Tony breaks. He sees it when Tony’s hands fist in his hair and Tony looks like he wants to scream. The glowing light of the arc reactor (replaced Peter notices) makes Tony seems even more angry than he’d usually be.

Peter’s there when Tony’s pen is crossing out the Accord’s rules, and how he’s rewriting it, over and over again.

Peter’s there when the pen is snapped, and the pencil’s are gone and Dum-E is trying to keep Tony calm.

Peter’s there when FRIDAY asks Tony if he wants another pen, or coffee.

Peter’s there when Tony just glances up, before muttering “No. Thanks, FRI.”

Peter’s there when Tony breaks. 

Peter’s there with his father figure. And, no matter what, Peter knows he won't leave Tony.

(Read more, mobile users)

Tony’s there when Peter’s injured. Tony keeps Peter safe, and Peter, in turn, tries to help Tony with the Accords.

Peter doesn’t understand some things in there, but Tony explains it with detail.

Tony’s there when Peter’s Aunt is in an accident and isn’t allowed to have Peter in the house. “Unfit Guardian,” Tony almost snorted. May’s a perfect guardian for Peter, but Tony takes Peter in anyway.

“We’ll fight it.” Tony tells Peter. “I’m not going to let them think May’s an unfit guardian just for one accident.”

So Tony’s there for Peter. (Just like a father, Peter thinks.) (Tony hopes that he doesn’t turn out like Howard.)

Loki joins them once and only as an enemy to see what had happened. When he’d realized what the ex-Avengers did to Tony, to Rhodey, and to a child. It was understanding he was angry.

(Peter asks Loki to stop using his magic so much. It scares Tony, and Peter’s worried he might relapsed into a flashback.)

(Loki stops, but he also tells Tony that if Tony wants help to get over his fear Loki will help.)

(Tony takes him up on his offer, but a little too late a week before the ex-Avengers come back.)

(Loki doesn’t mind. Loki would help Tony as long as it takes little by little because Tony’s the only one who was nice-ish to him.) (He did offer Loki a drink.)

It’s when the ex-Avengers come back is when Peter gets really worried. Tony hasn’t slept in three days since the news came back that they were pardoned. He’s been scribbling in the Accords like mad, muttering things like “Can’t do that. That’s a deal breaker if Cap sees it,” and even, once, “I’m so dumb. So dumb.”

He forgets that Peter has enhanced hearing. Tony forgets that Peter is in the room when he’s scribbling. He’s always so surprised when he sees him, like he’d expected Peter to leave him.

There are empty coffee cups scattered around Tony’s desk (and his trimmed goatee has turned into an almost-beard) his hair is wild and unruly. Peter asked FRIDAY how many cups of coffee Tony’d drank and she replied around thirty-six.

Peter manages to coax Tony out of his office, and into the couch. Tony’s almost drowning in papers and his eyes are red. He looks like he’s about to fall over and Peter doesn’t want to make Tony worse. Tony looks just like Death himself, and Peter’s fingers twitch.

Peter saw death once in his uncle. He wasn’t going to allow it to take someone else he’d gotten attached to. Peter didn’t want Tony’s body to start shutting down to rest, because Tony might not wake up again. So, he tries to coax Tony to sleep, but it doesn’t work out. He ends up calling Pepper and Rhodey. Pepper got Tony into sleep clothes; and Rhodey got him to actually lay in bed.

Tony only falls asleep when Pepper assures him that she will still be here when he wakes up; and No, Tony, none of us are going anywhere, I promise.

Peter and Rhodey finishes off the Accords. Quickly and quietly while Tony sleeps (dead to the world for a full sixteen hours, no nightmares - yet). When Tony wakes up, they present it with a flourish and Tony blinks in confusion and reads it over.

He nods and smiles at them both before he turns it into Ross (who waits until an hour before the ex-Avengers arrive) to tell them the 117 countries have decided that the New Accords were okay and signed them.

The ex-Avengers and the New Avengers sit at a long table. Pepper slid the New Accords over to Team Cap and waits until Steve’s done reading.

“They aren’t perfect,” Rogers said. “And I’d rather not have the government doing this. But I’ll sign.” He pulls a pen with a flourish and scribbles his signature.

Pushing it toward his teammates, they all begin to sign and Rogers smirks at Tony. “Guess we’re all good,” he says, stretching. Wanda signs last before smiling ‘sweetly’ and using her magic to push it back. Peter snatches it out of air before it reaches Tony, who had stiffened.

“No powers, witch.” Peter snaps, and Wanda’s eyes narrow. Loki appears next to Wanda and Clint jumps, snatching his bow.

“She’s the witch?” Loki asked, eyes narrowed. He kneels down to Wanda’s eye level and hisses “You’re the one who messed with everyone’s head? And, yet you are a child.”

Loki tilts his head. “A child, yes, Rogers? But this child has fought with the Avengers? And this child had inflicted damage upon your teammates’ mind. But yet this child is allowed on the team?” Loki glances up.

“I never agreed to Stark using Peter.” Loki’s jaw clenches. “But at least Stark told Peter to try to stay out of the way. Yet you dropped a jetway onto Peter and left him struggling with it.”

Loki purses his lips and rises up before turning to Wanda. “You are not a innocent child. Your brother would be ashamed of you.” And Wanda jumps up, angry before Team Iron Man exits the room quickly.

There is a crowd (a huge crowd) outside the building. They are chanting “Team Tony, Team Tony,” over and over again. There is a different crowd (a very small crowd) chanting “Captain America, Captain America.”

The small crowd is overpowered by the larger one screaming for “Tony.” Not “Iron Man,” but “Tony.”

Tony’s smile seems to light up the area, even thought it’s already daytime. Peter thinks that things are going to be okay for a good portion of time.

[rainbowtransform]

Lancetober: Day 9, Sharpshooter

Day Nine guys! You can read Day Seven and Day Eight. Thanks to @wondere11e for the prompts!

Lance is precise, Keith realizes one day when they’re going to a planet taken over by the Galra years earlier.

Lance is the first person to get there, and is listening to Coran explain some things. “They basically worshipped Voltron; not surprising. They’d been the first to be informed of Voltron’s birth, and the first to realize the Lions could bond together.”

Lance interjects with “What year was that?”

They all pause. “It’s been lost to time, Lance,” Allura says. Her eye twitches.

“What happened to the people?”

“The Galra enslaved them.”

“Why did they enslave them?”

“Why do you keep asking questions?”

Lance blinks. “I’m inter-”

“Stop,” Allura puts up a hand and Lance’s mouth closes. “Please, Lance. I… I cannot think about this too much.

Keith knows it isn’t Lance’s fault. But that doesn't mean Keith won’t be angry. Lance pries way too much.

Lance is too precise sometimes.

Lance has sharp eyes. Pidge notices this when they land on a planet. Lance is looking around, eyeing things as if they were enemies. Then he turns and grins at everyone.

“There’s a lot of things people did here,” Coran says in Pidge’s ear. “Swimming, hunting, fighting, sacrificing, weaving, farming-”

“Wait, what?!” Hunk says. “Go back a few?”

“Weaving?”

“No, back further.”

“Swimming?”

“Up just a little.”

“Sacrificing?”

“That’s the one.”

Pidge sees Lance stiffen, immediately, eyes scanning the horizon again. “Don’t worry,” Coran says pleasantly. “The people have long since stopped sacrificing on this planet. Why, the only people who still do it are the ones who’ve tried to rebel against the Galra!”

“Aren’t those the people we need to see?” Lance says, reaching for his weapon.

“No,” Allura’s crisp voice calls from over the coms. “We aren’t here to see them.”

Shiro relaxes just a fraction. Allura sound honest, but they can’t see her face.

“Liar,” comes a whispered voice. “She’s lying, she’s lying!” The voice jeers. “You shouldn’t lie, Princess,” the voice croons, joined by multiplies now.

Pidge only has a split second to look around before something shoots off to her right. She hears a shriek of something dying and looks up at Lance who’s face is unreadable. He takes her hand and yanks her upward before turning around and shooting into a shadow. Pidge hears another shriek and the other Paladins all reach for their weapons again.

Something creeps forward into the light, and Pidge very nearly screams. It’s ears are flat against its head and it’s prowling around them.

“Such a good eye for a two-legger.” It growls softly. “Able to see my brethren sitting in the dark.” It sits down, and grins. “Join us,” it says and trots off. “The Queen should be informed he is expecting guests.” One of the things suddenly tear through the undergrowth, and Lance’s gun stays pointed at it. It runs off in a different direction, and the Paladins begin moving forward.

Pidge notices Lance’s fidgety movements and how his eyes dart left to right. She thinks he’s looking at the things that are walking (or running) next to them. He still hasn’t lowered his rifle, though it’s now resting on his chest instead of pointed at one of the tiger-look-alikes.

His eyes keep darting, and Pidge’s do the same. She can’t see anything, though. She wonders how Lance does it.

Shiro glances upward at the things sitting next to them. It looks like a tiger, Shiro knows. He’s seen pictures of it. The only difference is the tiger couldn’t speak, nor did they have Queens that are male.

“Our Queen is most excited,” the tiger says, eyes gleaming. “She’s been waiting for thousands of years!” Another one pipes up. “She’s outlived all our parents!” A cub squeaks from behind Shiro’s foot and he jumps. The cub flashes out of his sight and something else dashes into the light to grab it and jerks away.

Lance’s head is tilted, eyes closed, and he’s looks like he’s listening to something. His Bayard has already been reverted back into its original form and his eyes are still closed as he walks quietly through the dense forest.

He’s breathing quietly and Shiro thought he was asleep for a moment. But then he opened his eyes and grinned at Shiro. Shiro smiled back just slightly before he turns around.

The tiger’s smile turns feral as he growls “The Queen loves to entertain guests.” Shiro glances at the tiger and narrows his eyes. The tiger-look-alike laughed and said it was a joke. “The Queen doesn’t hate guests, but he doesn’t love them either.”

Shiro turns around again for his team, only to count three other heads. He nods and turns around again before whirling around. Lance is missing. Lance is gone. Shiro turns around again and calls out to Hunk “Where’s Lance?”

Hunk shrugs. “He was like this in the Garrison, too.” Shiro turns around to the tiger-thing and it sniffs the air. “He’s… mmmm… I can’t smell him.” Shiro furrows his brows and asks “How?”

“Because I’ve been trained,” Lance says next to Shiro. He jumps and turns around to stare at Lance.

“How can you be so quiet?” Shiro asks.

Lance shrugs.

Lance is a sharpshooter. He can be quiet or loud; precise or detail-free; and able to see things from far away. He’s not the very best, but he hits his targets and he finishes his orders. (Maybe not the way Shiro or them want, but he gets his orders done.)

Lance loves his Bayard, and his rifle is always just a hairbreadth away. Lance pulls away from the tiger Queen and the Queen leans closer to Lance.

“Aren’t you just a pretty thing?” Queen purrs, and Lance shrugs. “I am pretty.” He says. The Queen laughs, loudly, his head thrown back and everything. Lance’s fingers twitch and feels like he’s going to shoot the Queen in the face soon.

Just get past this. Lance thinks before placing a fake smile on his face.

As a sharpshooter, he needs to pretend.

[rainbowtransform]

Alexander Hamilton

Just a few connected story oneshots that I’m writing. It’s about people’s thoughts as they see Alexander for the first time or more. The usual things. Enjoy 

Tip: This story is historically inaccurate

James meets Alexander after Rachel has fallen asleep. He’s holding him, cradling him, and Alexander’s eyes are wide and open and full of life.

James knows Alexander’s going to do a great thing one day. His violet eyes burn bright in the sun.

Alexander’s one when he picks up James’s quill. James takes it back with a tight-lipped smile before turning back, ready to continue writing before he feels a tug on his pants. Looking down, he sees Alexander making grabby motions.

“Up. Up.” Alexander stresses and James sighs. He picks him up, and already knows he is not going to finish his work today. Alexander pulls James’s paper toward him, dips his fingers in the ink, and then begins drawing. James stiffens, and Alexander studied the paper. With a final flair, he draws something before turning away.

He jumps off of James’s lap and then toddles around outside to his brother. James looks at the ruined drawing, only to discover a large number listened. It didn’t seem intention but the 45 dollars written there made James swallow, hard.

Alexander is two when James tries to pay off his debt. They take his 45 dollars, but tell him that he had interest.

“Just three dollars more,” they say, polishing their nails. “Of course, it’s three more dollars each day you don’t pay. New rules. Began a few days ago.” Ruthless smiles grow upon their faces as they watch James’s face drain of color. “So, three times two is six dollars. So, tomorrow, it’ll be nine dollars. The next, twelve.”

James swallows and nods, drained. He gets home and Alexander’s yelling “Papa! Papa!” He’s sitting with James Jr on the floor and James Senior smiles. Rachel turns to look at him, before her own smile drops off. James shakes his head at her. A quick shake, but Alexander’s watching carefully.

When they get into bed, Rachel whispers “What’s wrong?”

“They’ve added interest.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll pay them.”

“Yeah.”

Alexander is three when James throws the money (plus interest) into the sharks’ face. They take the money, and leave James alone. James needed to watch Alexander (Rachel taking James to a doctor) and the sharks all looked unapologetic.

“Pleasure doing business,” they say and walk away. Alexander is watching and asks James “Daddy, who were those people?”

James pats his head. “No one you need to worry about.”

James takes up gambling when Alexander is four years old. He’s already paying off old debts, and now new ones but he’s addicted. He can’t stop, not even when Rachel manages to drag him home. Not when James Jr yells at him that he’s a drunk, stupid, debt-ridden fool.

Alexander stays quiet and when the shouting matches are done, he walks by James and climbs into his lap. His violet eyes burn and stare into James’s soul. “Please don’t do it again.” Alexander says and James nods.

“I won’t,” he lies.

Alexander is five when James gets beaten half to death. Rachel’s crying, screaming; James Jr is quiet and withdrawn; Alexander doesn’t understand what is happening and is trying to get his brother to play with him.

“I don’t want to, you stupid idiot!” James Jr yells and Alexander is taken back. James Senior rises up from his half-sitting state on the couch and tries to yell something back, but he can’t quite make it out.

He falls back onto their bed and lets out a quiet whimper. James Jr shuts up, runs toward his father and Alexander’s left in the dust.

Alexander’s six when James finally gets up the courage to tell his family that he might have to do away for a while. James Jr is nodding, because he knew all along; Rachel keeps giving little snorts and shakes of her head, and Alexander’s eyes are brightly lit.

“Adventure?” He asks and then turns, grinning at his mother. “Mom, we’re going on an adventure!” He’s smiling and James pats his head.

“Not you, Alexander. Just me.” James states, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Alexander looks hurt before James Jr takes him away, talking his ear off about cars and things he’d build. Alexander looks back in confusion, and James sees the hurt in his eyes.

Alexander’s seven and James has constantly been accumulating debt. He’s fiddling with his wedding band, wondering how much it’d cost if he just sold it now. Rachel comes out, and leans against his shoulder.

“What’re we going to do, James?” Rachel asks, tears springing to life in her eyes. “Alexander’s so smart already, he’s surpassed three grades. Jam has already almost finished his schooling, and Alexander’s so close.” Rachel sighs. “We can’t put both of them through college.”

James nods. Alexander is the most likely candidate, but Jam has potential, too. “We’ll just have to choose.” James says, and Rachel blinks.

“Choose? We can’t.”

“We must.”

“We can’t. We have to give them equal opportunities in this world.”

“Send Jam. He’s the oldest; he’ll get his job done.”

“James Hamilton!” Rachel jumps up. “How could you even say that?! Both of them could get the job done!”

“What are we supposed to do, Rachel?!” James roars back. “We can’t just split up the money! Half goes to Jam, half to Alexander! They’d never finish school.” James points a finger at the house. “I’m trying to help my children reach a good education. If Jam is the oldest, then he’s going to college. Alexander’s going to have to find someone else to pay for his tuition!”

Rachel is seething, pulling her lips back from her teeth. “How dare you,” she spits. “Are you a father, or a warden? ‘Alexander is going to have to find someone else,’” she sneers. “You are not the man I married.”

She turns and walks off. James sits back down, slipping his wedding ring off and pocketing it.

“You’ve got no idea,” James mutters, thinking of people who’d like to buy something.

Alexander sits on the window sill, staring at his father with eyes full of disappointment, and hurt. James doesn’t notice.

Alexander is eight and James is selling off small things Rachel wouldn’t notice to help his debt. To help their debt. James sells off his wedding ring (Rachel hasn’t noticed), he sells off his engagement ring (he becomes $50 dollars richer), a couch Rachel didn’t want anymore ($10), a kitchen utensil nobody uses ($5), and tons of other things.

He sells Alexander’s old baby toys, James’s old schoolwork. He erases James’s answers and sells it good-as-new. Alexander’s toys become a big hit and James steals a few of his little toys from now to help them.

He manages to even snag Rachel’s engagement ring (a whopping $75). He almost managed to steal the wedding ring, but instead he backs away just slightly. Rachel thought she’d lost her engagement ring and cried into James’s shoulder, begging for forgiveness. James strokes her hair, and tells her there’s nothing to forgive.

Rachel cries harder.

Alexander stands in the kitchen, watching the exchange with burning eyes. James thinks he knows something.

Alexander is nine, and Rachel is angry. Very, very angry.

“You sold our things.” She says, eyes burning.

“To help our debt.” James tries to explain.

“Our debt?” Rachel asks, eyes staring deep into James’s.

“My debt.” James murmurs.

Rachel puts her head in her hands and slides down onto their bed. “I just don’t understand.” she finally mutters.

Alexander is sitting on the edge of the bed, saying nothing, and staring at his father with burning anger in his violet eyes. James feels uncomfortable and leans closer to Alex.

“Why don’t you go play with your brother, huh?” James asks and Alexander shakes his head. “Go, Alexander.” James says, voice hardening.

“Jam is in college.” Alexander says. James is taken back before he swallows. “Go read something.” He says.

“I’ve read everything.”

James sighs before turning to Rachel. “I’m sorry, Rachel. But I needed to pay off the debt, somehow.”

“Oh, you did pay it off,” Rachel laughs bitterly. “And you’ve been making the debt’s depth deeper and deeper and you try to pay it off.” She begins laughing her head off.

James swallows and turns to the doorway. He turns back to Alexander, once, and his violet eyes, so full of life and emotion, hold nothing. No remorse, no sadness, no disappointment. Alexander is a blank slate, waiting for something.

James walks away.

Alexander is ten, and James leaves. He doesn’t attempt to say goodbye to his family. Jam is home from college, and James is packing his things when Jam comes upon him.

Instead of saying anything, Jam helps him pack. James turns his head to notice Alexander peeking his head in the doorway before turning away quickly. James runs his fingers through his hair and Jam sighs.

“He’s not angry or disappointed. He’s upset.” Jam says, placing the last of James’s shirts into his bag before giving it to his father. “He wanted a good father.” Jam says and walks out the door.

James walks into the living room, and then to the front door before he hears Alexander.

“Please, don’t leave.”

“I have to go.”

“Please.”

“Alexander.”

“We can change.”

“No.”

“Daddy, ple-”

“No.”

James turns around, one final look at his youngest. Alexander has tears in his eyes; the tears making his eye color darker and James thinks he sees a simmer of anger buried deep within them before Alexander’s tears spill over.

“We… can… help,” Alexander hiccups.

“No.” James says and walks out of the house without another look at Alexander.

[rainbowtransform]

What Am I?

S U F F E R 

(Read it on A03 here)

Logan isn’t different from the other sides. He’s Logic, and he has just as much say as Virgil, Patton, and Roman.

Right?

He might not have as many feeling as the others, but does that mean he doesn’t feel? Of course not! He does!

Doesn’t he?

The first hint that Logan wasn’t… normal came from when Thomas was six. Virgil had just barely been born, he stayed in his own room half the time. Roman was everywhere, a hyperactive six-year-old, and Patton always followed his lead.

Logan… didn’t. He was Logic, he wasn’t meant to be there until later - when Thomas was eight at the very least. But Logan was always there; ever since Thomas was born. (And perhaps, that added to his downfall.)

Patton was first, the heart is always first. Logan was second, Roman third, and Virgil (though they didn’t know his true name then) was the “baby” of the little family they’d gathered.

Patton and Roman just ran around, playing, and begging Logan to join them.

“This doesn’t fit the function of logic. How can we have fun if we’re just sitting there?” Logan had said. Patton raised himself up, slightly, and frowned.

“It’s fun, Logan. C’mon, join us!”

Logan did.

(It wasn’t as fun as Patton and Roman were having.)

When Thomas was ten, Logan’s second hint came forward. The Sides were having a movie night (Virgil had “moved” out when Thomas was nine. They didn’t see much of him anymore.) Creativity, and the Heart, sitting side-by-side, watching a movie.

They cried. Logan didn’t.

“I just don’t understand. Why is it upsetting?”

“Logan, because-”

“Oh, don’t explain it. He’s emotionless.”

(He wasn’t.)

(Was he?)

He withdrew himself from the others. Kept himself separated, and threw himself straight into just being Logic. Not Logan, just Logic. He kept himself with hard, cold facts. He’d throw them around his room and keep writing because if he didn’t…

He’d lose himself.

Years later, Thomas began doing the Vines. He’d use Patton, Roman, and (sometimes) Logan in them. Thomas would dress Patton up as a teacher to make it “silly” and “fun” and other times, it’d be Logan.

Logan always forgot which one was which. Patton played him perfectly. Logan laughed with everyone else, but he felt his own heart (self?) being torn to shreds and everyone else laughed. Logan just shrugged it off, withdrew himself further away, and stayed out of the way.

Perhaps he’d become too afflicted with facts. They don’t seem to always work with everyone else.

When “Vine” shut down, Thomas began doing more and more on his YouTube channel. He’d even began the “Sanders Sides” videos and Logan had begun to love them. They were beautiful, someplace where he can stay and say his facts, and people liked him. (Even if nobody else did.)

He smiled more, helped just a bit, and thought about bonding more with Patton.

He moves toward the hallway, making room for Anxiety by the stairs. He isn’t upset by it; he’s thrilled. Anxiety needs more people to see he’s not bad, that he’s a good person. (Even if it took it away from Logan.)

But then everything changed. Logan didn’t mind that Anxiety got the attention - he loved it. Yet, Logan’s mind always supplied the worst possible situations.

They hate you now. It’d laugh cruelly. Isn’t this just perfect? Poor, poor Logic. Just sitting there, without anyone else to help.

Logan always helped keep Thomas in check. But… maybe he should leave that to Virgil for right now.

They do different things; help Virgil feel welcome; make songs. Do rap battles, help Roman. But right here - right now - this is not the place for Logan to be. He is not feelings, that is Patton. He is not a good thinker, that is Roman. He is not smart, that is Virgil. He’s just… an emotionless robot.

And he’s here with Virgil. Virgil’s worried, and Logan’s heart immediately tugs to help him. Logan pushes it away, and the others pop up. Logan suggests Nostalgia and both of Patton and Virgirl’s broken “Can they?” Made Logan’s voice go softer.

He explains they can. Give facts. And pushes Patton to let them into his room. Patton doesn’t push back; and Logan is worried. But he’s got sixteen other million things, including helping Thomas get over this breakup. (He doesn’t blame Patton. Patton isn’t to blame.)

They arrive in Patton’s room and everything is great. The air looks alive with Christmas lights, and Roman, Patton, and Thomas are so happy.

Virgil is not.

He tries to fix his mistake. Virgil’s on the edge of a panic attack and Logan tries to fix it. But no one’s listening, and Logan lashes out. He calls out Patton, and Patton pushes back.

“Can you stop?” He asks, voice raised slightly. “Please?” He adds on the end, voice cracking slightly.

And Logan?

Logan is struggling not to show he’s not trying to cry.

He’s so wrapped up in these stupid emotions - only amplified by Patton’s room - and leaves. Forgetting Virgil in the process.

He goes back to his room, and screams. Loudly. He sinks into his bed, and he feels tears pricking at his eyes. Logan rubs them, but they just… keep… coming. Logan is tired. He’s tired of screwing up; tired of fixing screwed up things.

He’s tired of being emotionless.

He goes back, once, to grab Virgil’s arm and disappear. The other sides don’t notice them leaving and Logan isn’t going to announce his presence. They leave, and Virgil is crying. Logan hugs him, and just says quietly “Let it out, Virgil. Just… let it out.”

It takes a while for Virgil to calm, and when he does he sniffles and asks “Where are we?”

“My room.”

“Will they… find us?”

“No. No, I’ve blocked them.”

“Logan?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think you’re bad.”

“Thank you, Virg.”

Logan and Virgil stay in Logan’s room just a bit longer before Virgil pulls away. “I’ve got to go.”

“You can stay.”

“I know. But I’m going to go back to my room. It’s more comfortable.” Virgil shrugs.

“Be careful,” Logan says. Virgil nods, and he leaves. Logan’s feet drift toward his own couch and slides down onto it. His eyes stare at nothing, and he feel numb. 

(He doesn’t want to get up.)

He stays that way for a long, long time.

[rainbowtransform]

Fools Rush In

Listen, okay, blame @fanfictiongreenirises okay? She asked for it.

1

His name is Victor, in this life, and Yuri’s his partner’s name. Victor loves Yuri, and Yuri loves Victor. He knows it. Yuri’s a figure skater, just like Victor.

And he’s absolutely breathtaking . When he moves, it’s like the Earth and Sky come together. And it’s absolutely perfect - if Yuri can just forget himself when he is dancing. (Victor knows he can; and he does.)

And then… then they get married. Victor can only live in Victor’s life for so long, and Yuri can only stay for so long. Victor promised himself, he did, that he wouldn’t get too attached. He’s already attached to his pet, and he thinks Yuri is, too.

“Victor,” Yuri murmurs. “Come to bed, please?”

“In a minute, Yuri.” Victor replies. Yuri huffs, and leaves into their bedroom. Victor watches him go, before signing his name and the time date onto his letter.

They adopt four children. Two boys, two girls. The girls are identical twins, and the boys are cousin that were separated. Victor loses himself into fatherhood and spouse hood. He loves Yuri like he loves his mothers from past lives, perhaps more.

Victor’s little girls grow up, and marry men. His two boys grow up, one marries a man, and one doesn’t marry at all. They (the parents) don’t try to get him to “go out and get a woman”. Why should he?

If he wants a spouse, he’s capable to get his own; they aren’t going to push him.

Yuri grows older, and Victor lets himself grow older, too. He has to keep up his ruse. Their children are gone, grown-up and beautiful. And their pet, his dog, his too young puppy , dies.

They get grandchildren. Plenty of them. Victor teaches them sewing; Yuri teaches them the concept of being accepting.

Victor watches as Yuri grows even older.

And he watches Yuri’s breath leave his body.

And Victor mourns.

(Read more, mobile users)

2

The next time Victor (now named Adam) saw Yuri (or Saturday) was three thousand years later. Victor saw Yuri’s hair - Victor always remembers his hair - and quickly goes up.

“Adam,” he says smoothly, trying to cover his bases and examine Yuri’s face. “Saturday.” Yuri - Saturday - says.

“That’s a pretty name,” Victor says. Saturday doesn’t look up; and Victor’s eyebrows raise. “Thanks,” Saturday says, before thrusting something into Victor’s hands.

It’s a little scrap of paper. “That’s my boyfriend’s number,” Saturday says. “Call him if you want to fight with him over me. I don’t care.” She flips her hair, and Victor watches. He reads the number off the paper, and pulls out his phone. She rolls her eyes and walks away. The phone’s ringing and a gruff voice mail picks up. “This is Peter Meltive. If you’re calling for my girl, you ain’t getting her. Leave a time and place, and I’ll find you, little bitch .”

Victor quickly pulls the phone away and hangs up the call. He looks up at Saturday and says quietly “You know he could kill you.” His eyes are searching Saturday’s and she only glares.

“He loves me. And he loves our baby.” She places a hand against her own stomach and Victor’s drawn to it. The life form growing inside Saturday - inside Yuri . Victor feels rage wash over him. Why is he feeling this way? He’s had plenty of wives and husbands across the years.

Why now? Why at this particular moment, to Yuri is he feeling this? He’s the only one that came back. The Voice whispers and Victor pushes it away. He watches Saturday walk away, speaking on the phone to one of her friends.

He sees it on the news. Someone’s videotaped it. He sees Saturday screaming, being slammed into walls the floor windows. Everything. He sees her husband - boyfriend? - behind her, screaming something. Someone’s places subtitles.

“GET RID OF IT!”

“Please…”

“GET… RID… OF… IT! YOU FILTHY WHORE!”

He watches as Saturday - and his Yuri - crawls out of her home, screaming. Blood is matted into her hair; eyes are dull. She’s screaming and there’s blood everywhere. Victor’s eyes begin tearing up as he watches her boyfriend following her, pulling out a gun. He shoots her. Victor watches.

The next day, Victor’s found dead in his apartment.

3

He doesn’t see Yuri until almost a billion years later. He’s a boy this time, and Victor’s so glad to see him he hugs him straight away. Yuri is rigid, before he pushes Victor away, brow furrowed and angry. Victor begins babbling, and talking about how great it is that he’s here with Yuri before Yuri stops him.

He begins using American sign language. Victor’s picked up a lot of things, but why is he using sign language?

“I’m deaf. Why did you hug me?”

“I’m… sorry. I thought you were someone I knew.”

Victor stand aside, and watches as Yuri walks up to the airport. Victor follows (he’s heading to America to study). He overhears conversation with Yuri about different things - and learn other things. He learns that Yuri’s American in this one, and he was born deaf. He also realized that today was the day Yuri’s going home.

“I can’t wait to see my mom again! She always has the best food, and she’s not going easy. That’s what she said!” Yuri signs and Victor reads. Yuri’s eyes lit up as he keeps talking and Victor’s heart begins to wring itself.

“Mine, mine, mine,” it whispers and Victor gently tries to guide it away. “Not now.” He murmurs quietly.

His heart’s crying, Victor can tell. But for right now, he needs to board the plane for America. He sits down, places earbuds into his ears, and he begins blasting his music. The plane begins to take off, gathering speed, and Victor’s staring out the window. Everyone else is clutching their seats because the plane is lifting off soon. Victor keeps looking at the patches of grass; and he turns his head, just slightly, to stare at Yuri’s face just inches behind him.

“Lloyd!” One of Yuri’s friends scream, and Victor turns around. Lloyd? It doesn’t fit, Victor knows. Nothing ever fits quite right besides ‘Yuri’ on Victor’s tongue.

The plane’s flying over the ocean and Victor is watching the ocean below. It’s a huge thing and Victor wonders how it’d survived all this time. But, then again, he’s sure the ocean wonders that about Victor too. Victor gently places a finger against the cold glass of the window, and the plane begins falling.

“I’m sorry, passengers, there seems to be a problem,” someone’s saying over the intercom. Victor sighs. Is this what he gets for meeting Yuri? They’re killing him now?

“Victor…” the Voice says warningly but Victor shrugs it off. He’s going to die anyway, it’s okay. He turns around, and yanks Yuri - Llyod - into the biggest, sexiest kiss of his life before the plane smacks into water, and Victor watches as Yuri and his friends die from the impact. Then, Victor himself dies.

4

He meets Yuri, now called Marissa, sitting next to her friend. She’s laughing, flipping her long hair behind her shoulder. Victor (called Sam), is staring but Marissa just smirks at him. She’s the “popular” girl at school, and Victor - Sam - is a nerd . It’s only natural that the nerd likes the popular girls; and the popular girls date the jocks.

Victor - Sam - tries to get Yuri - Marissa - to go out with him. Just one date. Perhaps Victor - Sam? - could get them to remember Yuri’s first life. But Marissa just shrugs him off, yanks his flowers’ petals off and laughs in Victor’s face.

And Victor still loves her.

Maybe it’s because, buried deep underneath Marissa’s “life” is three other lives that Victor was there for. In this decade, Yuri’s hair is blond and his - her - eyes are this brownish-blueish color. Victor loves that color.

Marissa’s dating this one guy - he’s a jerk - but Victor knows it’s because he’s a child. Barely even past sixteen, and this is his first life. Victor isn’t the kind of jealous husband - ex husband - especially since Yuri’s been “dead” for more than three billion years.

Victor’s hair is dyed brown; and he’s still got his blue eyes. He watches Marissa work, and he knows he’s probably going to get beat up after school. He can take them, he’s confident enough. He’s got the brawn of “Adam”; the skill of Victor; the moves of Allison; and the love of his husband. He’s sitting at the library when he realizes that not one person has come by.

A party. A drunken, drunken party. Yuri’s going to be there. Yuri’s going to die. The Voice says, emotionless. Victor keeps a straight face, and nods. He’s used to it by now. They’re going to say he was driving. They’re going to force the blame onto him. What’re we going to do? Nothing! The Voice cackled. Victor’s eyed the book next to him. He wonders if it’s too late to see if he’d be able to sneak in.

He grabs his keys, texts his “mother”, and goes into his car. He starts it up, and pulls it out smoothly - he’s had years of practice. He begins driving toward the house where the parties are usually at - Susan McBride’s - and another car suddenly appears right in front of him. Victor tries to slam on the brakes, and the person in the other car tries, too.

Victor’s car crashes into the other’s. The crash sound makes Victor’s head hurt and his neck snaps forward and back. Breaking and fixing it. They must be watching and laughing as Victor whimpers, bringing his hand up to his bloody head. He coughs, and the passenger car gets out and stumbles.

“What the fuck!?” He screams before he turns to the car. “Marissa? MARISSA?” And Victor only has a moment to process which Marissa they’re speaking about before he blacks out.

5

The last time Victor sees Yuri die comes when Yuri’s a transgender boy, and he’d just gotten divorced from his wife. They had three kids that Yuri - naturally - tried to get joint custody of, but was refused when the court learned he was transgender.

Victor has seethed, and ranted, and threw things. But nobody would change their mind and Victor can’t exactly go support Yuri in court. If he’d do that, Yuri would die, and Victor would be left wondering if they would be cruel and send him back to reincarnation; or if they’d be kind and finally place Yuri’s restless spirit to peace.

He’s practically vibrating when Yuri comes onto the television. Yuri begins talking about how much he’d lived and how his life was dictated by him trying to be Yuri - or Luke, in this case - and how Samantha wasn’t him.

And Victor’s heart, this human human heart, began hurting. Breaking. Flipping inside his chest; fighting to break out because it yearns for a boy who’d never come back to him. Victor stares at Yuri, looking so much like his old self - the only difference is his face. His nose looks broken; eyes are too sunken; hair is limp, lanky and red.

Victor can stare at Yuri for hours - if he could. But, right now, he’s too busy trying to figure out exactly how to fix this curse. This curse for Yuri. Victor’s lived with this “curse” or “blessing” depending on how you’d feel about it for decades - but he can remember. Yuri can’t.

Maybe it’s something emotional? Perhaps Yuri had suffered great loss beforehand? In his second life that prevented him from remembering? Victor flips through pages and pages of the book he’d picked up long ago. The pages are yellowed, and dirty in spots where the oil on Victor’s fingers rubbed off spots. There’s letters, pages, and even whole texts missing from this book but the most important is the thing Victor has memorized. Pushing pages of notes out of his way, Victor begins to read it again. The words began to mix together (again) and Victor almost screamed.

“I can deal with this curse!” He screams at Them. “He can’t !”

“He doesn’t even remember. How can he deal with something he can’t remember?” They ask. Victor’s eyes are hard as he threatens, begs, and even tries to bargain. They refuse.

The next day, the news says that Luke - Yuri - died in a gang beating. They’d ganged up on him, calling him “faggot” and “little girl” and beat him to death.

+1

Yuri didn’t quite remember anything before his twenty-third birthday. He’d just walked into a bar and he’d noticed a silver-haired man who was drinking away his life.

“Hey,” Yuri had said, pulling his brother’s arm. “Is he familiar?” His brother just looks at him, laughs loudly, and claps him on the back.

“Every silver-haired man looks familiar to you!” He yells, and the man-who-drinks turns around to stare at Yuri with utter confidence in his eyes. A soft smile pulls up the the corner of his mouth, and Yuri’s mouth pulls up in response.  The man-who-drinks gets up, places a few bills on the bar, and walks by Yuri.

He doesn’t stumble, which means he’s either not drunk enough or can hold his liquor surprising well. He walks past Yuri, and just gave him a quick glance - a once-over - and walks out the bar. Yuri’s mouth turns down his smile and - is he pouting? Yuri sighs deeply and shoves his hands into his pocket when he feels a scrap of paper. He opens it and almost blacks out.

Hi ;)

Here’s my number. Call me if you want to hang out, or something.

-Victor

Yuri calls him straightaway. Victor sounds like he’s laughing and Yuri’s blushing but he’s not backing down.

“Come meet me at the cafe across the bar,” Victor’s voice is smooth. And like he’s trying not to cry. It’s an odd combination - but Victor’s voice does it justice quite well.

Yuri escapes from his brother’s side and crosses the street. Victor’s sitting at a table, drinking a cup of coffee and holding a pastry. He turns, and grins up at Yuri who smiles back.

“Victor.”

“I know. I mean - I’m - I’m - I’m Yuri. I am. Me. Yuri. I.”

Victor laughs, a rich sound and Yuri wants to hear it again. He sits down next to Victor, and his eyes are bright and large. Can’t Victor just laugh one more time? He keeps looking left and right; as if something’s going to jump out and attack them.

“Victor?” Yuri asks.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course,” a smile and Yuri can’t help but do it either. “Just checking some things.”

“Okay.”

They smile and a waitress comes over. Yuri asks for a hot chocolate, and she smiles before going away. There’s a flash of movement in Yuri’s peripheral vision; it’s a flash of silver? He turns his head, and gets a face-full of gun.

“Turn over pockets,” the woman says in a thick accent. The man next to her looks proud, in a fatherly-kind-of-way.

“Turn over pockets,” she demands. Yuri shows her his wallet, and give it to her; then his watch, and that was everything that he had.

“More,” the man demanded. Yuri flinched before trying to explain that he doesn’t have anything else.

“Il n’a rien d’autre?”

“Non.”

“Tirez sur l’homme à côté de lui.”

The woman turns the gun on Victor, and pulls the trigger. Yuri screams, and Victor’s bleeding. Yuri’s cradling Victor’s head in his arms already (why is he doing it?) and he’s crying.

Victor grips Yuri’s hand and smiles. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

His grip goes slack and his eyes glaze over and Yuri screams.

[rainbowtransform]

Snapshots

(Read on AO3 here.)

Chat Noir begins documenting. 

The person holding the camera is flying through the air. In front of the camera, is Ladybug. Ladybug’s yo-yo is flying through the air, gripping anything and everything.

“My lady,” Chat Noir begins and Ladybug’s head turns, just slightly. “When I’m with you, I’m feline good.”

Ladybug stops and turns around to glare at Chat. The video ends there.

There is giggling coming from the camera, as if focuses on Marinette Dupain-Cheng sitting in her room sewing something.

“That’s Marinette,” Chat Noir whispers. “She’s a good person. Crazy. But good. She always took my head off once.”

Marinette turns to glance out the window and pauses, seeing Chat sitting on the balcony. Her eyes narrow and Chat says “We’re spotted. Run.” before jumping off the edge.

The camera opens to a picture of Chat and Ladybug. Chat’s tongue is out and his fingers are in a claw position. Ladybug doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

The next picture shows Chat’s mischievous-filled eyes as he glances up at Ladybug. The caption reads “Dare me to lick her?”

The third picture is of both of them again, Chat is just inches away from Ladybug and she still doesn’t seem to notice. “Ready?” The caption says.

The fourth is Chat’s tongue out again, inches away from Ladybug’s cheek. She has her head turned, and a confused look in her eyes. “Set.”

The fifth is a video of Chat licking Ladybug’s cheek. She looks furious as she scrubs it away, and Chat’s laughing before Ladybug gets up. The caption reads: “Go!”

The video it opens up to is an angry Ladybug chasing an equally-scared-slash-upset Chat Noir. “Can’t we talk about this My Lady?” Chat begs.

“No! No we can’t!” Ladybug screams, her yo-yo in her hands before Chat suddenly squeaks and jumps up.

“The people wanted it!”

“Turn the phone off!”

“No!”

The video opens to Chat Noir falling into an alley, and Ladybug follows soon after.

“Turn off the phone, Chat.” Ladybug says. Chat shakes his head.

“This is evidence for when you murder me!” Chat screams. “The police shall find you!” (Unfortunately, for Chat, the police were currently laughing their butts off in their station after watching his videos.)

Green eyes fills the screen, and Chat Noir whispers “Hey. We’re here at Marinette’s house. Hope she feeds me.”

“You’re not a stray!” Marinette’s voice screams from the window. Chat’s nose wrinkles up and he sighs.

“Marinette is in denial.”

“I am not!”

“She doesn’t understand that I’m hungry!”

“Go buy some food!”

Chat’s quiet for a moment before he grins. “But, Princess, this is a catastrophe !”

The camera turns around to face Marinette, who is pressed against her window. She mouths the words “Fuck you.” to Chat before turning away.

“That hurt, Princess.”

Marinette’s eyes glare at Chat.

“Please come back. I knead you.” Chat howls and Marinette’s eyes darken before she comes closer to the window. Chat’s quiet for a moment.

Marinette opens the window and the camera turns back to Chat, eyes wide. “Gotta go!” He exclaims before turning a fleeing into the night.

Marinette’s voice follows him: “Come back here, you cat! I’m telling Ladybug!”

Chat’s wide-eyes is more than an answer.

“Not only did you go and bother a girl, now you’ve just went and became a nuisance by telling her puns! Honestly, Chat. Leave her alone.” Ladybug ranted, the camera filming her at an odd angle.

The caption reads: “Thanks for a whole lotta nothin’, Princess. Now I know who to trust.”

The camera opens to just Chat, sitting on the roof of a home in broad daylight. “I’m bored,” he states to the camera.

“Paris is fun and all, but I’m bored. And angry at Princess so I can’t go to her house anymore.”

“Okay, so the reason I’m not going to Princess’s house anymore is because a) I’d apparently driven a bunch of fangirls to represent her? Weird. And b) she told Ladybug I used puns, and videotaped her. And, apparently, Ladybug forbade me from going to her home anymore. So, I’m not going, and I’m angry. Don’t send her death threats.”

“But, on the bright side, her parents sent me a message saying business is booming so that’s good.”

Chat pulls a bakery bag out of (seemingly) nowhere and takes out a cookie. “Her parents make good cookies.” He says through a mouthful. “Go there and buy cookies.”

Chat’s face is series (though cookie crumbs litter his face and mouth) “Chat Noir commands you.”

The video opens to an Akuma attacking the mayor’s home. Chat is sitting next to a gargoyle, in exactly the same pose. The caption reads: “Just hanging around,” while an explosion rocks the ground and Ladybug flies in above Chat.

She’s screaming, “Damn it, Chat! Fucki-” and the video cuts off.

A slightly angry and disgruntled Chat Noir is sitting in the corner, pouting. The caption on the picture reads: “Just because I didn’t ‘go in there before Ladybug got there’ now I’m grounded.”

Chat Noir stares at the camera, and his lip curls back in a tiny smirk.

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck!” Chat Noir chants as the camera opens. He’s running through rooftops, girls underneath him screaming.

“See, here are some problems with fangirls,” Chat says. “Is that they keep trying to climb up and here and can get hurt.”

The camera pans to the girls underneath him, some trying to claw their way up. The camera suddenly settles on Marinette, walking through the sidewalk. She smirks at Chat, and her smile drops.

The camera pans back to Chat who’s head is turned away. “I’m still mad at her,” he says as a way of explaining before he turns and bounds off.

“You shouldn’t be mad at Marinette,” Ladybug says. The camera flickers to Chat who is pointedly ignoring the name.

“Oh. Did she tell you that?” Chat says.

“Chat,” Ladybug says.

“Ladybug,” Chat mimiks.

Ladybug’s lips purse. “She did what she thought was right.”

“She should have asked me. I mean, if she was ready to fight me for saying a pun, you’d think she would have told me to stop. Right, Internet?” Chat asks the camera.

“Chat, put down the camera,” Ladybug says. The video cuts off.

A grumpy Chat Noir is sitting on steps, shivering. His hair is plastered to his face and the rain pouring down isn’t helping.

The caption reads: “First, I take a dive in a river. Now it’s raining. Great!”

The camera opens, shakingly, at Marinette’s home. They can see her downstairs eating dinner with her parents. The camera turns to Chat Noir, who is sitting on her balcony, not looking down at the family. Instead, he’s looking at the sky.

“The sky’s weird.” Chat says. “It’s so many different colors. So many different things. But it’s always there. It’s weird. But pretty.”

The video cuts off.

The camera opens to Chat sitting in a nest of butterflies.

“It’s Papillon’s lair.” Chat says, voice tight. There’s something in his eyes that makes everyone watching it look to each other.

“He uses the butterflies.” Chat says. “Ha.”

Chat smiles gently at the camera.

“I think this is my last video.” Chat says. His eyes are holding secrets; deep green eyes that look far beyond their years.

“I’m not sure I can keep doing it.” Chat continues.

“Everything’s going crazy. You know?” Chat smiles.

“I don’t think Ladybug’s coming. She’s too caught up in her own things. Don’t worry, though, I’m going to be fine.” Chat smiles, and his smile is sweet and clear.

It’s an: nothing-will-help-me smile.

“I’ll see you guys. Maybe.” Chat says, and the video cuts off.

[rainbowtransform]

Lancetober: Day 8, Blue

Day Eight of Lancetober! Enjoy, guys gals and non-binary pals! (Again, credit to @wondere11e for said prompts.) (You can read Day Seven’s here.)

There’s something sitting at the edge of the town. It’s huge but it doesn’t hurt anyone. It just stands there, waiting for something.

The women gossip about it. “They say it never leaves,” one of them say.

“I heard it hates having people near it.”

“I’ve heard it’s been there for years.”

They are all uneasy about it, giving it a wide berth. It doesn’t say anything, it doesn’t do anything. It just stands there and watches the townspeople go about their work. It’s eyes are dull, and it’s metal outer body doesn’t gleam like it used to.

The government came. People in helicopters, airplanes, soldiers, SWAT, everyone. They told the townspeople that the thing was just meant for an experiment and they’d all passed. They also told them that they shouldn’t talk about this to anyone ever again.

They take away the thing, and everyone sighs a bit of relief.

It is back the next day, and everyone ignores it again. “The government will come and take it away,” a  girl states with a smile. She wants to see them again. They looked cool.

Her little brother looks at her and then back to the thing. “They won’t.” He says, as if his word is law.

(They don’t come back.)

It’s said that the thing was once beautiful. That it shined and it’s eyes were bright. Now it wasn’t like that, and nobody knew why.

It is said that the thing once flew and could run faster than a cheetah. It just sits and lies in wait now. For what, no one knows.

They say that it once had someone with it, but he is long gone by now. They say that it’s dangerous, that it should be taken away. That it can’t stay, it’ll hurt the children.

A boy says that it should stay. “She’s just lonely,” he protests.

Nobody goes near the boy anymore.

It’s gone the next day. Just like that. And the boy who’d protected it was gone, too.

“Good riddance,” the townspeople say.

“He was good little bugger,” someone says, fondly.

“He was a problem-fixer,” another says.

“He was a good boy,” they all say.

Maybe they’ll find him someday.

There are stories about everything and everyone. But there is nothing more interesting (or mysterious) as the tale of the thing that sat outside their town, watching them, only to disappear with a child.

If they look up, some people swear they can see gleaming metal and bright eyes. They say the thing has a red thing around it’s back, and it has the color blue all over it. Others say that it looked like a lion, and yet others say it looked like a cat.

People say they can hear purring in the middle of the night. Others state they can hear a Lion roaring and a boy laughing with delight. 

But those are just stories. They aren’t real. 

Or are they?

[rainbowtransform]

A Breath Of Life

I’m tired. I tried. Enjoy it. Give it to Mark as a gift; or as a torture device. I don’t know. 

This is just a joke, he chanted as he ran through rooms.

“DAMIEN? CELINE?” He called as he ran through the rooms. They didn’t answer. “Come now! It’s not a game, anymore!” He’s screaming.

He’s searching for them. They’re still here! They have to be! The other one came back! That must mean that Damien and Celine are okay! Right?

The house seems to be laughing at him, but he’s still going. They’re okay. They are okay!

Right?

What can I go by? I cannot go by Damien. Not anymore. I am not Celine. I am not… them. He’s walking, slowly. He doesn’t know where exactly he is going. But he’s walking, brushing his hands on everything he can touch.

He hears William screaming. William? Curse this body’s desperate need to help, protect, see. No, no, he chastises himself. This body’s not to blame. It’s their fault for giving them his emotions; the body simply does what it always did. It has a natural sense of curiosity, and he cracks his neck again. It will be difficult to beat into submission; but he can’t always get what he wants. The house groans, and cries, as if it’s crying for something.

“Damien?” Celine calls, and he turns his eyes toward her Spirit. It’s walking next to him. “Damine, where are they?”  He gestures behind him, at the mirror, and Celine turns. She stares at the person, watching, waiting. Her hands cover her mouth, and her eyes burn.

“Damine, what are you doing?” She asks, annoyed. He pauses and turns to the Spirit. “I do not know.” He says, voice grave. She tries to touch him, but her hand goes through. “Are you okay? Does the body feel right?” He shrugs, and William cries again. Calling for his friends. “William. Oh, William.” Celine says, and he can see tears gently pouring from her eyes.

“Damine. Do just one last favor. As old friends,” Celine asks. He doesn’t say anything, but she knows he’s listening. “Take care of William, Damine - or whoever you will be going by now. He doesn’t know what is happening. He doesn’t understand.” Her Spirit’s eyes glow with anger.

“We will find Mark, and make him pay for what he’s done to us!” She growls. He nods. She sighs, gently. “I… I cannot hold this form much longer. I’ll try to get out friend out of the mirror. I’ve given you almost all my energy. Don’t disappoint us. Do whatever it takes.”

He watches her appearance begin to fade. She pauses, bites her lips, and before she leaves says “Damine? Please come visit me…”

He takes Celine’s promise to heart and keep William - Wilford - with him. Wilford has come to call him “Dark” and he does like the word. They search the world, for years, just to find the one person they needed to. The one person who needed to pay Hell.

They found him in a YouTuber; who didn’t seem to know what exactly he possessed inside of him. Dark and Wilford joined, and the world flipped. This Mark was joyful; this Mark didn’t know what he did. This Mark wasn’t their Mark. Until Dark appeared, and his eyes just showed recognition.

“How’d you get out?” He asks, voice trembling. Dark smiles.

“I got help… from an old friend.” Dark says. “And, this time, Mark, I don’t think we’re going to play easy.”

Mark doesn’t scream. He just narrows his eyes.

“Bring it on,” he challenges. Dark chuckles, and Mark’s Egos appear behind him.

“Let’s play,” Dark says.

He visits Celine. She’s long gone by now. Her Spirit energy has faded out, and now she’s stuck in an empty abyss. Joined only by the people who died in this house; this cursed house. But he still visits her.

He walked around the edges of tables, the dust sitting around. The home is gone now, hidden from everyone except Dark and Wilford. The mirror’s are all intact, dust on their surface and Dark pulls a finger down. He gathers the dust on his finger and examines it. The house is creaking, like it always was.

Then, he turns to the only mirror which is cracked. The person sitting in the mirror stares back at Dark with trusting eyes. Betrayed eyes. Eyes that once held the entire world. Dark sighs and sits down.

“Don’t look at me like that, old friend.” He says. “I’m not hurting anyone. Just the man who’d hurt us.”

They don’t say anything. Dark cracks his neck. “You should thank me. I kept you here, in the mirror. See, the mirror reflects your energy back to you, see? So, your Spirit is always here.” Dark can feel the questions, burrowed deep into those eyes that aren’t trusting anymore.

“Celine wouldn’t go. I tried. Trust me, I tried. But she wouldn’t let me. Instead, she’d rather rot in Mark’s corpse.” Dark picks up his cane, and shrugs on his blazer. “I’ll return at a later time, old friend. We can discuss more next time.”

The eyes are pleading. Pleading for Dark to stay; pleading to be let out. They know. How can they know? Dark doesn’t care.

Dark walks out.

The eyes close.

The house, for the first time in it’s long, long life…

Is silent.

[rainbowtransform]

What Comes Next

Thomas Jefferson (Plus, mention of James Madison)

Thomas sees him, wandering aimlessly across the streets, staring up at the snow with a fascinated expression. He looks like he hasn’t seen snow and Thomas almost snorts. Someone living in New York City, and not seeing snow? Impossible .

Though, perhaps, he’s visiting from someplace. Thomas doesn’t think so. If he’s visiting, then how is his mother not with him? Or, better yet, why isn’t he wearing shoes? Thomas’s lip curls up in disgust. He must be a street rat, Thomas decides. But he’s pretty, Thomas thinks, in a certain way.

His hair is long, floppy and in his face. But he glances toward Thomas and Thomas nearly has a heart attack. His eyes . Thomas doesn’t know what else to do except just stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. His eyes are different from his body.

The boy’s body is thin, scrawny, weak. His hair is greasy; and his clothes are dirty and he’s shoeless. (“He will get sick,” Thomas’s mother says later when Thomas tells her). But his eyes are different. They seem to hold fire, to hold hope. Warmth. Something Thomas misses.

The boy turns his head to the side, and then turns to look at Thomas once more. Thomas tilts his head, just slightly, curls bouncing. The boy’s mouth curves up in a small smile before he turns and disappears before Thomas can blink.

His father gets back in the carriage and throws sweets at Thomas. “Got these for you,” he says and smiles over his paper. Thomas thanks him before grabbing one of the sweets and popping them into his mouth. They start their way home, and Thomas makes a small note to ask his father if he’s going to New York any other time.

Thomas wants to see the boy again. He sees something glittering on the carriage floor and blinks, confused. He picks them up and stares at it for a solid moment before slipping one onto his wrist. The other one he’ll give to Jemmy. (He hides it from his father.)

(Read more, mobile users)

Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy Schuyler

Eliza sees him staring at the surface of a pond she likes to go to. She doesn’t want to scare him, but this is her pond. Sure, it’s in the middle of a park but it’s hers. Her sisters and her always go to that pond and it’s theirs until they die. The boy’s scrawny, big, and he looks sad and angry.

Angelica and Peggy are standing next to her and they gasp as the boy suddenly throws himself into the water. He comes up, sputtering, but grinning happily. Philip takes one look at the boy before ushering his girls away.

“Don’t go there if he’s there,” Philip says and Eliza looks back. The boy is laughing, hard, and he’s doubling over in the water.

“Papa, he might drown.” Peggy points out and Philip’s lip curls.

“Good.”

Philip doesn’t let them go back to the pond for a week afterwards. He doesn’t want the ‘street-rat’ to contaminated Angelica, Eliza, or Peggy. Angelica raves and rages for days but Philip doesn’t give in and Angelica stops.

The next time they go to the pond, the boy’s gone. A small part of Eliza hoped he’d stayed, but when she looked at the pond, she saw something glittering in the sand. She plunges her hand into it, cold sweeping up her hand and soaking her dress sleeves but she manages to yank out three chains.

They are necklaces. Eliza holds them, delicately, and shows it to her siblings. They wonder if it’s for them, and Angelica shrugs.

“We found them.” She says, and takes one of the chains and holds it out to Eliza. “May I?” She puts one the necklace on Eliza and one on Peggy. Eliza places the chain on Angelica and they all grin at each other.

(They hide the necklaces from their parents.)

John Laurens

John meets the kid just days after he’s gone to New York. The kid’s running around shoeless and John Laurens is the only kid who gets to do that. So, he is very interested in what the boy is doing and decides to follow him.

He gets lost, and loses his jacket in the process. The kid took so many turns and twists that John got confused before he’d stumbled back to the place where he started. The kid’s sitting on the edge of the stairs that John had been sitting on.

The kid pulls a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and John realizes that the jacket is his. The kid lights it, puffs, and blows out the smoke. He holds it out to John, a silent invitation. John sits next to him, and takes the cigarette, taking a puff. The kid pulls off John’s jacket and lays it down next to him.

He takes the cigarette, takes a long drag, then turns and walks away. John’s left alone. He chuckles, pulls another drag of the cigarette, takes the jacket, and goes inside his house.

He doesn’t realize he’s got a ring in his pocket.

Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette

Lafayette is in France, thinking about America. He wants to see how America is like, what Americans do, what they want to do.

But he sees a boy, barely sixteen, picking his way past the crowds like he’s done it a million times. Lafayette watches him, slowly, eyes narrowed as the boy comes closer to him.

“Est-ce que quelque chose vous dérange?” His sister asks, sitting down next to time.

“Le garçon. Il est étrange, n'est-ce pas?"

“Qui?”

Lafayette turns to look at her head tilted like a lost puppy.

“Le garçon? Devant nous?”

“Lafayette, vous sentez-vous bien?”

Lafayette turns around to stare at the boy again - but he’s gone. He turns around to see behind him, but there’s nothing but bricks.

“Lafayette?”

“Ce n’est rien. Ça ne fait rien.”

(He finds a hair tie that isn’t his in his pocket. It glimmers and is very stretchy. It also doesn’t break when Lafayette pulls his hair up.)

Hercules Mulligan

Hercules is just closing up shop when a boy, age sixteen, runs in. He’s out-of-breath, and his eyes are wide and fearful.

“Uh… kid?” Hercules says and the boy’s eyes snap to his. “We’re closing.”

The boy makes urgent hand motions, not speaking a word.

“I don’t know what you want,” Hercules says before blinking at the boy’s tattered shirt and pants. “Do you want me to… fix those?” Hercules says and the boy frowns, blinks, then looks down at his shirt and pants. With shaky fingers, the boy pull the shirt off his chest.

Hercules can count the kid’s ribs. He shudders before turning to the sewing and beginning to stitch up the clothing. He doesn’t talk, and the kid doesn’t either. He finishes the shirt and the boy’s fingers take it back almost instantly. He quickly shoves it over his head and Hercules swallows and looks away.

He doesn’t think he can stand the silence for much longer before the boy turns and darts out the door. Hercules blinks before falling onto his chair, sighing. He looks over at his supplies before blinking at the glittering sewing needle sitting innocently among Hercules’s things.

He thinks it’s a mistake but if he looks closer, he can see an ‘H’ and ‘M’ on it. He blinks in amazement but also wonderment, before packing his things up again.

(He sews with it only when he’s working on his friends’ clothing.)

+1 Alexander Hamilton

Alexander is taking a shot when the kid walks in. He makes a beeline right to where Alex is sitting and slides next to him. Alexander doesn’t look at him but asks “Is it done?”

The boy nods. Alexander smiles slightly before taking a shot. “Washington?”

“He has his things.” The boy replies.

“Martha has hers?”

“Yes.”

Alexander sighs before ruffling the boy’s hair. “You did good, kid. Don’t do that I did, alright?”

The kid grins. “You know I won’t, Alexander.”

He disappears and Alexander is left alone.

“Yeah, sure.” Alexander says, taking another shot.

“Just remember to take care, Alex.”

[rainbowtransform]

Stories, of Long Ago

Read it on A03, if you want. THERE AREN’T ENOUGH FICS WITH CHUCK/SAM FRIENDSHIP SO I MADE MY OWN!

“Do you want to know some stories, Sam?” Chuck asks, sitting next to the half-asleep Winchester. He didn’t reply and Chuck gently brushed His fingers through Sam’s hair. Dean was out buying food and medication, new sigils burning into his ribs. Chuck didn’t dare try it on Sam, yet.

Chuck sits down next to the younger Winchester, and begins to weave a tale.

There was once a place, up high in the clouds. It was a beautiful place, a perfect place where no one felt pain, and Angels littered it, helping people and things. But there was a tiny Angel, named Gabriel (here, Chuck paused gauging Sam’s reactions, and seeing his eyebrows smooth, Chuck continued)

Gabriel was a tricky person, always causing trouble and learning it from his brother, Lucifer. (Sam whimpered, Chuck swallowed hard) His father called Gabriel “my little Trickster” and the nickname stuck. Whenever his father saw Gabriel if it wasn’t serious he was always greeted with “my little Trickster.”

(There was a slight shift as Sam moved)

Gabriel was happy, just until his Father decided that the Earth must be filled with something. ‘Make something’ Gabriel’s father told each of his children and they did. Gabriel was very upset since he didn’t want to disappoint his father. So, he’d stolen his brother’s creations and placed different things on them: bunnies with five legs, horses with a horn right in the middle. ‘Gabriel,’ his father told him. ‘You can’t use your brother’s creations. You must make your own.’

So, Gabriel did. It was very, very ugly. Gabriel loved it, and called it a “platypus” and he’d played with it. He made many other creations. Dinosaurs, dragons, many things. His father sighed and told him ‘No, Gabriel. Something that my creations would love and cherish,’ and sent him away. ‘Don’t send them to Earth,’ his father told him. ‘They won’t like them.’

Gabriel chucked (Chuck scowled as he’d realized his joke) them to Earth anyway.

Chuck heard Sam’s slow breathing and smiled, getting up and going to the kitchen. Sam’s sleep won’t have nightmares tonight.

Chuck made sure of it.