#stop me from level grinding in there and turning it into another WIP | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

Text

Rooftop Rendezvous

watch me ignore my wips challenge!

Timminette Oneshot 1.8K words

Summary: Red Robin finds the new criminal, Karma, on a roof.

His only response is to make out with her.” contains sexual content

without further ado

She stuck to the shadows, tucked away between two AC units. She made use of her small stature and remained out of sight, hoping her prey would stop by soon. He should any minute now. He was meticulous and methodical such that he became painfully predictable. It led to a fun game of tag though, so she wasn’t complaining too much. Her little tweety bird was so fun to chase.

The sounds of a grappling wire sings through the night’s silence and alerts her to her new rooftop companion. She pushes further back into the shadows, watching the expanses of a black cape flow through the soft wind. Her attention zeroes in on the yellow belts that snugly frame the figure’s chest as he turns to survey the roof. He completely looks past her and faces the skyline again.

“No signs of Karma, but she couldn’t have gotten far.” His voice was sturdy and confident. Assured that he would find her before the night was over. How right he was. “Oracle said she spotted her in the Fashion District. She should still be here.”

He was about to leave the roof and continue his search. She let him. He wouldn’t get far though. She didn’t want the night to end just yet nor did she want to drag out this little game. Patience wasn’t her best virtue after all. She crouched poised and waited until he leapt off the building heading to the west. Immediately, she sprung from her hidden spot and made a dash across the roof, running in the opposite direction. Loudly. Red Robin’s curse at her sudden appearance was music to her ears. Her delighted cackles rang out into the night as she lunged and landed on the nearest building. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she knew he wasn’t far behind. He was predictable like that after all.

She makes it another three blocks before a body is slamming into her. They fall into a roll and she lands above the red vigilante. She’s about to run away to prolong the chase but he has a firm grasp on her forearms and his legs lock into place behind her. Trapping her in the space between his thighs and pressing her weight into him. He reaches behind him and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. She couldn’t resist teasing him; he made it too easy.

“A bit early for kink exploration, wouldn’t you agree, tweety bird?” She peers up at him and flutters her lashes. He ignores her but his pretty pink blush tells her everything she needs to know. He drags them up to stand and pulls her to some overhead pipes belonging to the building’s plumbing system. He links one end of the handcuffs to her wrist and the other to a low hanging pipe. Red Robin tries to back away, about to abandon her but she won’t allow it. She takes her free hand and grabs at one of his belts on his chest. She yanks him until he’s pressed flush against her.

“Don’t ignore me, tweety. That’s rude.” Her tone is light and playful. She smirks at him but he can’t see it behind her mask. Hopefully her intentions are conveyed in her still visible eyes.

“I don’t plan on playing your games, Karma.” He sounds exasperated but his arms haven’t left her hips yet. They wound up there from her earlier aggression and she quite likes the weight of them. They’re steadying and heavy; a daunting pressure. “You’re a criminal and It’s my job to bring you to justice.”

“So what? That means you can’t have a little fun while doing it?” Her knee was slowly edging up the lines along his right leg, her ankle hooking him behind his knee. “Must get boring. The whole performance of being such a dutiful civil servant.”

“We do what we must in the name of the greater good. Something you could try emulating.” He leaned in closer to drive his point but all she did was lean further into the wall and tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes of his mask. His hair curtained his face and darkened his expression. She quite liked the looming appearance of him over her like this.

“Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years.” She tilted her head further back, stretching out her neck and staring up at the sky. She could still feel his gaze burn into her exposed throat. She adored the attention. It lit a simmering fire under her skin. “Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,” she continued. “Something you could try emulating.”

He releases one of his hands to reach up to unclasp her mask, while the other snakes around her waist, eliminating all space between them. His gloved fingers brush against her back, gracing the thin slivers of exposed skin. The texture felt lovely and sparked shivers down her spine. He threw her mask behind him and the clatter of it against the roof went ignored. His hand returned to her chin and gripped her daintily. It was almost sweet. Tender even. Her hand that was still firmly grasping his belt slowly traced up his chest. She pressed firmly at his exposed neck and slid her hand into his hair at his nape, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp and tugged at the strands. His body pushed into her more, wedging his trapped leg further between hers. Someone likes having his hair pulled apparently. Delightful.

His lips parted, caught on an inhale, and he looks like he has something to say. He doesn’t speak though, just hold their position as the seconds ticked by. Her already thin patience was waning and her frustrations shone through.

“What? Waiting on Daddy Bats to give you more orders like a good little soldier?” She made her intentions clear by rolling her hips up into his and pulling more insistently on his hair. He hissed at the stimulation and his hips betrayed his already crumbling facade of professionalism. “Or are you going to finish what you start—”

He cut her off in the best way possible. His lips were forceful and his teeth nipped at her lips but this was exactly what she wanted. His tongue came out to play and she was more than willing to entertain. The kiss was wet and messy and absolutely perfect. The hand around her waist traveled further down her body and grabbed a handful of her ass. He groped further until he reached her thigh and his hand cradling her face reached for the other one. He lifted her so their heads were leveled and her leather clad legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. Her vice-like grip kept him just where she wanted him. The heat that was simmering earlier reached a light broil. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes but she relents her sight to sharpen her other senses. He felt solid and firm against her soft edges. He smelt like fresh aftershave. He tasted divine.

The hand in his hair guided him to her exposed neck. He lavished at the expanses of skin and went to work painting a mural of pink and red bruises. She was particularly tender at one spot, just below her jaw and she hissed at his sharp bites and kittenish licks.

“Just like that. Oh, fuck,” she had no control over what she was saying, her body giving into the ministrations. Her tweety bird hummed in response and it sent a sweet tingle down her body, curling her toes in response. He used his hold on her thighs to pull her hips into his, setting a controlled grind, slow and sensual. She was completely at his mercy. When he grew tired of sucking a dark bruise into her neck he travelled further down to the curves of her bust. She arched into his lips, body asking for more pressure. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled him to pay attention to her other side. That’s how they were, getting acquainted with each other.

Her free hand left the back of his head and went to join her cuffed one. She slid the pick she kept up her sleeve out and fiddled with the lock, quietly. She paused every now and again to focus on the worship of kisses being left on her chest. He moved back up to her lips, leaving a trail of soft pecks on her overheating skin. She whimpers at the gentleness and he chuckles at her. He’s all too pleased with himself for her liking. She bites at his lip and soothes it with a soft swipe of her tongue. She presses her oversensitive chest into his, keeping his attention just where she wants it. Their hips haven’t stopped and the pleasure is blindingly distracting. He pants and moans into their kiss and she responds in kind. The heat has turned into flames under her skin and she could get addicted to this. She feels strung up like a live wire but it’s not enough. Her partner shares her sentiments, evident by the whispered babbles of ‘more’ and ‘so good’ punctuating the caresses of his kisses.

His hands roam around her body, one going down to her knee, the other up her back and this changes the angle in which they fit together. It’s exactly what was needed to bring that extra edge to their rooftop tryst. The pleasure is blinding and she feels every muscle tense as she’s brought to the long awaited precipice. Her tweety bird is throwing his head back, breaking their kiss, and their rhythm stutters as he convulses against her. His sighs of ecstasy flow into the night air as they come down from their highs together.

He rests his head on her shoulder, chest heaving and limbs weak. She slowly extracts herself from his hold to stand on unsteady legs. Her breathing evens out and slows to match his own, sharing each other’s oxygen in their own secluded bubble. With both arms free she reaches up to caress the slight stubble on his jaw, committing his structure to memory. The silence is peaceful and she creeps around him to go for her discarded mask. Behind her, Red Robin braces against the wall, staring up at the night sky. He makes no move to accost her so she takes this as her cue to leave.

“We should do this again sometime,” her voice is touched with a hint of exhaustion, raw with emotion. She doesn’t look back at him. “You’re quite something, tweety bird.”

She doesn’t wait for a response but as she leaps across to the next building she hears his following remarks echo into the night.

“Negative, Batman. She got away. Maybe next time.”

Next time indeed, Red Robin.

#timinette #mlb x dc #maribat #self-indulgent #oneshot #tumblr dont fucking try me #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #hornknee hours #timari

186 notes · View notes

allmightluver · 4 years ago

Text

First lines meme

Ooo! 😲 thank you for the tag @justanotherfoolhere !!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines. Tag 10 authors!

I’m incredibly shy so if you would like to do this, I tag you!!

Ah I have some old stories from old fandoms (or side fandoms I should say), but as for MHA, most of my stories are just wips right now. I have approximately 5-6 stories in the works right now, however 3 are just thoughts yet, not written out, 1-2 are RP’s with another person that I’m not sure if I have the ability to share yet 😅, 1 is....extremely, well...NSFW 🙈 even the first line asfkgkka I’m not going to do that one, you’ll just have to read it on ao3 when it’s done 😖

However! I do have a massive story that’s been in the works for over a year now (atm it’s around 57,800 words), I’ve actually gotten stuck on it half way through and a friend is helping me by rping those parts with me. If anyone remembers from forever ago, I talked about writing a story about Toshinori actually becoming addicted to his painkillers, and overdosing during class, that’s this story. I have a good chunk of this written, so to make up for my lack of stories, I’ll post a few paragraphs of the beginning! (I hope that’s ok! 🙈)

((I should note, I don’t normally rp, the ones I’ve done are just with a close friend or two))

So, here’s a few paragraphs of what I’ve been calling “Painkiller” under the read more...

Eyelids sluggishly rise. Each blink seems to be getting slower and slower. And he’s still talking. How the soft furred mammal at the front of their table can speak for hours at a time without so much as a break is a superhuman feat. Of course, the principal isn’t human at all, which probably is how he can accomplish it.

Black eyes glance at the clock on the wall across from him. 1:50 p.m. This was supposed to be a short meeting. A quick briefing on the school’s protection and security upgrades. This is also the time to give feedback on how the procedures seem to be working. It had started during their lunch break at 12:30 p.m., and it’s still dragging on. Snipe as well as a few other teachers that have classes to teach at this time are absent, but the rest of the available staff are present.

Shota massages his eyelids, refraining from gritting his teeth against the stinging, and promptly tipping his head back to apply his eye drops. They’re almost gone, he’ll have to get a refill from Recovery Girl. Shota lowers his head once again, black locks falling back over his face.

He’s exhausted. A full night on patrol and then the morning teaching at UA. He’s done for the day after this, and all he wants is to sleep. He’ll still have to check in with Eri to be sure she’s been ok throughout the day, before he can collapse on his bed.

Eri was still adjusting to living at UA, but seemed to be doing well so far. When he couldn’t be with her, she had another teacher or staff member watching her. Thankfully, there hasn’t been an instance with her quirk going out of control. Yet. He hopes to keep it that way. She’s just starting school, but slowly. She has a lot of learning in just living before she can worry much about academic intelligence. But Shota has no concerns of her being able to catch up to her age and grade level. Eri’s proven to be smarter than they’ve given her credit for. Perhaps wiser in some ways than a kid her age should have to be.

Shota usually teachers her in his spare time. His hero work has decreased due to his stacking responsibilities. Last night was the first in close to a month, and he can feel in his sore muscles that it’s been too long. Thankfully, he can rest tonight, but if Nezu didn’t hurry this conference up he’s going to be pulling another all-nighter. The temptation to pull out his sleeping bag and snooze in the chair he sits is becoming harder to resist.

Shota’s gaze moves across the room at the other occupants.

Mic sits to his right, closest to Nezu. The man’s listening, but one can see the bored expression on his face as he picks at his painted nails.

Midnight across the table seems a bit more focused. Her arms rest on her lap as she listens to the white animal, adding in her thoughts every now and then.

Cementoss and Ectoplasm sit next to her, both relatively silent.

Shota’s eyes flick to the chair next to his left before moving to the closed door at the room’s entrance.

Yagi had been here as well. A few minutes ago, he had politely excused himself from the room and had yet to reappear.

Maybe he made a break for it, Shota thinks with envy. Though he knows it’s a lie.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Number One Hero to duck out of meetings and public places for short periods of time. No one questioned him on it, assuming he had business calls or the like. He was All Might after all, and surely a very busy man.

But now the Symbol of Peace is dead, and still the brief intermissions continue. In fact, they’re increasing in frequency. Shota has high doubts about the possibility of impromptu hero phone calls from the man’s agency, but doesn’t dwell on it.

Everyone, even All Might, has secrets. It isn’t Shota’s job to nose his way into everyone’s personal life.

His sore eyes blink in mild surprise when the door he had been focusing on slides open, and the man in his thoughts shyly stoops his head under the doorway to enter back into the room. Yagi closes the door again and takes his place beside Shota, moving quietly to attempt not to draw attention to himself. But it’s a wasted effort; whenever he’s present, all eyes immediately are drawn to him. Plus, it’s hard to ignore a 7 foot man.

Shota turns away, attempting to refocus on whatever their eccentric principal is speaking about.

For a while, the meeting draws on as usual, Nezu doing most of the talking and the other teachers providing input as they see fit. The way the conversation is leading, it seems like things are starting to wrap up. Finally. The last class of the day starts at 2:20 p.m. and that doesn’t leave much leeway room for any teachers that need prep time.

Shota leans back with a silent sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go check on Eri back at the dorms, and the sooner he can crash. Thinking about anything other is too hard to concentrate on.

Through his sleepy fog, something moves in his peripheral vision. Instinctually looking over to his left, he notices the lanky man next to him has wilted in posture, much like a plant with no water. The haze in Shota’s brain clears only slightly, having something more interesting to observe.

Now actually taking the time to study the other, Shota notices the haphazard blonde mane looks messier than normal. Yagi’s long, sinewy hands are placed comfortably on his lap, though a subtle tremble is running through his frame. A sheen of sweat is starting to form above his brow. Though his eyes remain fixed on the principal, the unfocused haze in the cyan pools gives Shota the impression Yagi isn’t paying attention. The normally bright irises are dull and almost completely hidden in the surrounding black sclera.

He looks pale. Must be sick. Shota lets his attention drift back to Nezu. Toshinori Yagi is a grown adult; he can take care of himself. If he doesn’t feel well, he’ll go home. These thoughts stubbornly go through Shota’s mind just before another pushes itself in.

He remembers the tall man entering the teacher’s lounge only two days after the Kamino incident. Yagi had been completely wrapped in bandages, bruises and stitched up cuts littering his body, and one arm was in a sling. Everyone had expected him to still be in the hospital, and not back to UA for at least a week, maybe two.

Shota recalls the other teachers chastising the ex-hero and trying to convince him to go home, to rest. Yagi had politely smiled, one that made Shota’s teeth grind at the obvious artificial gesture. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, only present to soothe their worries. But Yagi thanked them for their concern. Even then, their coworkers had tried to assist him in any way possible. He had always insisted he was fine, respectfully refusing their help. It became hard for their colleagues to accept when it was obvious the injured man was struggling with even the simplest tasks.

Recovery Girl had made frequent appearances, much to Yagi’s dismay. It was unfortunate his body couldn’t handle her quirk, and he had to heal naturally, so she made it her job to monitor him. She didn’t even try to deny she was only there to check in on him, to make sure he was behaving himself, at least to the miniscule level she could except from Toshinori. She was always disappointed, and expressed so outright. But she could do little to sway him in his own self-care habits, and he always waved her off with another deceptive smile.

If he had forced his straining, overworked, body to comply during that time, what’s stopping him from teaching his class in 15 minutes?

More movement next to him puts Shota’s thoughts on pause. Dark eyes flick over to the older man, being as inconspicuous about his spying as possible. With the black hair covering his face, most people probably can’t tell where he’s looking anyway, and he’s not moving his head at all.

One of Yagi’s arms slowly lifts to his face, resting his sharp elbow on the table. The large and scarred hand covers his mouth, baring his bony wrist and too-thin arm as his sleeve slides down a few inches. The pose might be meant to look like he’s simply resting his chin, gaze still locked on Nezu like he’s listening intently. But sitting this close to him, Shota can see how the tremors in his body have increased, sweat starting to run down the deep crevices of his face in tiny rivers. The glazed over look in those black eyes has been replaced by one subtly emitting a fight or flight expression.

Shota frowns. He’s gonna barf. The pro briefly wonders if he should use his capture weapon to grab the trash can in the corner of the room to prevent a mess on the carpet, or worse, the table.

Before he can act, Yagi’s chair abruptly slides backwards as the retired hero wrenches his body up, fumbles with the door handle, and rushes out of the room as quickly as his unstable limbs can carry him. He barely manages to slam the sliding door shut behind him before he’s out of everyone’s sight, the hasty squeaks of his shoes on the tile floor growing more and more distant.

Nezu pauses at the sudden outburst, all the room’s occupants staring at where All Might had disappeared. The feel of concern weighs heavily in the atmosphere.

Although Yagi had often left before, he always excused himself quietly or snuck away when the attention wasn’t on him. Something this dramatic has never happened.

-----

And we’ll leave it there for now! This is still a wip remember, so things may be changed here and there, but I hope this makes up for my lack of other stories!

27 notes · View notes

reinersbrauns · 3 years ago

Note

Please tell us about "oh my god i hate myself"

WIP Ask Game of No-Shame Support

lmao.....oh boy.......

thank you for asking! i will apologize ahead of time

oh my god i hate myself

context: i'm gonna try to make this as succinct as possible. as addilyn wasn't allowed to participate in the retaking of wall maria, when the Truth Comes Out about the Titans and Marley, she goes to levi and demands to be allowed to go undercover to gather info about marley and reiner (there is precedence for her ability to do this in the plot trust me). reminding levi that she owes her (also something that is plot relevant), he agrees, but decides that the information will be kept between him, hange, jean, and addie. addilyn gets her wish and is in marley for awhile, makes contact with reiner, and. well. things happen. eren is unaware that this plan was in motion, and his rampage in marley upends everything addie had done and managed with her time there, and she decides to confront him on it when they get back to paradis

Addilyn didn't let him finish, pushing past him as she shoved the heavy wooden door open, deaf to his panicked protests as she entered the cell block. Another guard stood at the opposite end, right beside an open cell door. His eyes went wide upon seeing her stride forward, his mouth open as he prepared to send her away—but she paid him no mind, especially as a figure came sauntering out from the cell he stood watch over. Eren Jaeger's gaze immediately slid toward her as he stepped into the narrow hall, his face a carefully crafted mask of disinterest. It almost made her steps falter, his demeanor the antithesis of the bright eyed boy she had trained with years ago. "Leave us," she said to the guard, never once taking her eyes off of Eren. When the guard made no move to leave, she repeated the demand, her voice sharp and commanding, "I said leave us." "I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am—" "It's fine," Eren cut in, the corner of his mouth curving upward slightly. The smirk seemed snide, cruel, and Addilyn found herself grinding her teeth in irritation. He continued, a derisive lilt to his voice. "We have some catching up to do, after all." If she could have punched him right then and there, she would have. Her muscles pulled taut beneath her skin with the effort to keep her still, to keep her from surging forward and going for his throat. If she didn’t know any better, she would swear Eren could see how she fought to maintain her cool, as there was just the slightest flicker of amusement in his green eyes. Oh, this was not going to go well at all. After a moment's hesitation, looking between the two of them with no small amount of trepidation, the guard nodded, heading for the door. Addilyn counted his steps, listened for the loud creak and slam of the door to the cell block closing behind him. And when the sound of the knob turning resounded throughout the room, Addilyn made to close the distance between them, the fury she had kept at bay for days curdling the blood in her veins. "I was wondering if you'd ever stop by," Eren said smoothly, shoving his hands into the pockets of the long, black coat he wore. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long." "No one would tell me where you were being kept," she bit out. He arched a single eyebrow, his smirk dipping downward. "They didn't trust you?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Our own homegrown spy? I'm shocked. Truly." "Oh, fuck off, Eren," she spat. "You're just pissed that Levi decided not to let you in on our plans." "There was a plan involved?" He leaned back against bars of what had been his cell, the picture of boredom. The urge to scream began to overtake her. "I'd love to know what it was seeing as you were gone for nearly two years. You must've accomplished something during your time there, right?" "I did," she snarled. "But thanks to you, it’s all gone up in smoke, along with the city you practically leveled." He simply shrugged. "Between the two of us, it looks like I have more to show for my time in Marley than you." His eyes darkened, and a bizarre dread coiled within her chest. "Funny thing, that." "What's that supposed to mean?" Addilyn felt herself tense beneath his gaze.

#rosenkow #answered #my writing #my wip #oc | Addilyn Theron

3 notes · View notes

keirangoldenwatch · 4 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday, BECAUSE

I’ve been working on this chapter for too long, and why the fuck not. Here’s a passage from the next (WIP) chapter of Surprisingly Good Judge of Character, because it’s taking me ages to write a certain part of it and I wanna get something out here. =w=;;

Rezhek finished her motion to stand, her head, and thus her “gaze” trained to the three of them. There was silence in the room for three seconds at most. Then she turned away and towards the exit without another word. Aric’s light lingered just a moment longer before following suit, but at the speed of her stride he was out of her range of detailed sight before he started after her. Rezhek was in the hallway outside the meeting room in what felt like too few steps. “Hallway” was perhaps the wrong term--it was more like a balcony, overlooking the wide open atrium that was the Senate Tower’s main hall. Flooded with sunlight from the windows above, and bursting with little individual lights from the people below. Everywhere Rezhek wanted to look was bright and blinding.

“I gave them the answers they needed, I gave them the facts, and in return they kept from me the explanation I deserve! What do they think I’m going to take away from that?! It’s only going to tell me that Tavus might have been right. It shows me that you’re not going to extend the same trust to me that I gave to you. Do they not see the thin ice they’re walking all over, here?? What the karking hell!?”

She inhaled sharply, and only then realized that what she’d meant to be thinking to herself, she’d instead been muttering furiously through her clenched teeth. Rezhek swore quietly. She didn’t need to turn around to see Aric was standing there, staring at her intensely with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You heard that.” She stated, also realizing that her hands were gripping the railing in front of her hard enough that the gauntlet and her knuckles were grinding into each other. Aric was silent. He nodded, slowly, eyes staying stuck to the back of her head.

They were, by some miracle, alone on this side of the balcony. Rezhek gave one more small swear and forced her hands to release the railing. “Ridiculous. Kriffing ridiculous. I thought Garza was the one in the wrong for hiding shit, but no, all sides are acting like this. I can’t believe...no, I can believe, but I expected better. Am I stupid for believing that? Am I wrong?”

Aric kept silent, and kept staring, for a couple more seconds before he slowly shook his head.

Rezhek sighed loudly and turned about-face towards him. “Sergeant, stop with the silence. I’ve had enough of it for one morning.”

“You didn’t mention me.” He stated in a similar tone as her own a moment ago, and Rezhek leveled her mask with his eyes. It was strange that she felt taller in her armor than without, even without much lift to the boots. Looking up at him now felt different than doing so last night in the hotel hallway. But she was also full of anger right now, so that probably affected things.

She nodded, slowly.

“Why?”

“Because...” she paused, then found the words. “Yes, you worked with them. You might have noticed something in their behaviour change. But you were in the middle of a war zone.” Rezhek found a steadier breathing pattern and attempted to stick to it. “When it’s us versus them, we can’t start picking apart the ‘us’. You trust the men besides you--the men leading you. Being unable to trust your own people puts everybody in danger. That doesn’t mean being blind to their behavior,” the tenseness in her posture weakened slightly. Urgh, that turn of phrase. “But if nothing they did was amoral, or illegal, then...you would just trust them to be on your side, because you have to. Because they’re ‘us’. Or should be...”

They know it, too, she corrected herself, But they’re keeping secrets from their own--just like Tavus was from me, and from Aric, and the entire Republic.

Rezhek drew in a deep breath, and shook her head. “We both know his defection wasn’t your fault.”

Can I go back to shooting Imperials? Separatists? Gangsters? Hell, I would take a practice dummy right now.

#wip wednesday #swtor #swtor fic #aric jorgan #republic trooper #rezhek iaseed #swtor fanfiction #rezhek would rather shoot things than handle politics #fuckin' senate and their bs #at least she has cat husband

1 note · View note

jacklyn-flynn · 5 years ago

Text

Sneak peek Sunday! Space Trash!

Sorry everyone! Yesterday was bonkers and I never got around to posting this. Here is the first ever sneak peek of my brand new project, Space Trash. It might be a little long for a WIP teaser (hence the cut), but it’s my favorite part of the first chapter I think. Hopefully you enjoy it! I’m so excited to finally be getting this out after months of obsessive planning. h

Special thanks to @sarenkascrawls, @kemvee, @ranawaytothedas, @cornfedcryptid, @faerieavalon and @kittimau for all your support and title help! For anyone else that I missed, I’m so sorry but I love you too! 💖

“How does everything look?” He asked her curiously.

“Like I worked on it all yesterday. There are no signs of neglect anywhere, let alone 60 years of it. There’s not a thing wrong with them. They’re just sleeping right now.” He was surprised at the drastic change in her confidence when she spoke of the ship. It was rather endearing, as if she spoke of a beloved pet.

The Commander nodded. “Well, that's something anyway.” He said with a slight smile.

“Did your friend depart already?” She asked, stuffing the tool into one of her jumpsuit pockets.

“Yes. She had to head down to the shuttle hanger with two others. We need to get up to the Temple and determine what happened.” He explained. “We were hoping you could help us, actually.” He broached carefully.

As if on cue, his comm chirped softly and she recognized Cassandra’s accent.

“To anybody available near the valley, we need reinforcements. Now! A rift has opened and we're under attack. Pinned down.” They could hear the sounds of battle in the background and the horrible screeching of demons.

“I need to go.” He said immediately.

“Wait. Do you have a vehicle?” He shook his head grimly. Walking, in retrospect, was a terrible idea. “How far is the valley?” She asked, walking to a large panel on the wall. It brightened at her approach and a map of the terrain around Haven appeared. He didn’t question how she got such up to date information, he just pointed to the location.

“You’ll never get there in time if you have to run back to Haven first. It’s in the opposite direction.” He was surprised to find her staring into his eyes. She’d hardly made eye contact the entire day. It was like she was trying to see something in his eyes, or perhaps his soul. Whatever she was looking for, she found. “Follow me.” She sprinted toward the engine room doors.

He found it difficult to keep up. Maker, she was quick. No wonder he and Cassandra hadn’t been able to catch up to her. She took a sharp right turn and he hesitated. “The garage is to the left!” He called after her.

She stopped and turned. “I know! Please, trust me!” Jules pleaded. She saw the hesitation in his eyes, but it was only momentary.

She led him to a large, heavy bulkhead. ARMORY was painted on it. She laid her hand on the glowing panel by the door but it made a dull thumping noise back at her, the panel dimming and then returning again.

She immediately took a few steps back down the hallway, bent and pulled a metal panel off the wall near the floor. She tossed it aside and stuck her hand inside. “Cover your ears.” She said, her voice flat and emotionless.

“Why?” He asked, though he raised his hands anyway.

“I’m going to make her think we’ve been boarded by hostiles. When her security protocols are in place I have access to more places.” She said pulling out a bundle of wires and quickly sifting them through her fingers. They were impossibly small and though there were dozens of colors and even patterns, many of them were repeated. There must have been hundreds in the wrist sized bundle. He noticed as she touched them, dim blue points of light glowed from the fingertips of her right hand.

She separated one, then after a moment of searching, two more. With a small tool from one of the pockets of her jumpsuit, she cut the two in half and cross connected them. Immediately, a klaxon blared through the hallway. She’d been right. It was incredibly loud. A red light flashed in intervals along the ceiling of the hallway. He covered his ears and watched as she ripped the other single wire out completely. It resisted at first but she wrapped it around one hand and gave it a vicious yank.

The alarm stopped but the red lights continued to strobe. She dropped the wire on the floor and sprinted back to the armory door and touched the panel. “Take what you need. Quickly!” She told him, standing aside as the door slid open with the occasional scrape of metal against metal.

He wasted no time selecting a pistol, strapping the holster around his waist and thigh. He snatched up a hydrogen blade and met her back at the door. Without word, she started sprinting toward the garage and he once again struggled to keep up. Luckily he was confident he could get back himself if she got too far ahead.

She shot through the door into the garage, grabbing the frame to swing herself around quickly. Her hand slapped on a panel and the ramp started to descend. “Take vehicle two!” She made it to the vehicle far before he did and released the cables securing it to the deck. They wound back into the floor.

He looked inside. “I don't know how to drive this.” The Commander's words made her heart sink. She stared at him, frozen. She would have to leave the ship, she realized. Then, once again, her steely determination took over.

“Fine.” She said simply, climbing behind the wheel.

He knew he was wrong to let her do this. She didn’t know him, any of them, beyond her experience in the Chantry cell. He had seen her fear, her utter terror. Worse, he knew that horror and still he got in the other side and pulled the door closed.

The vehicle seemed to respond to her thoughts alone. The engine rumbled to life and then purred contentedly while displays lit up in the cabin. Jules was pulling two straps over her shoulders, buckling them into the strap she’d secured over her lap.

“Buckle.” She reminded absently. He did so as well.

“We need to head south of Haven. There's a route through the forest.” He told her, securing his own belts. She slammed the vehicle into gear and jerked forward, shooting out of the Herald and onto the snowy terrain.

She took a sharp turn away from the town of Haven and found the path he was indicating. Cullen wished that he had something to hold onto. She seemed to be a competent driver, but the breakneck speed had him concerned.

He questioned, perhaps belatedly, how she had learned to drive so well never leaving the Herald . He glanced over but her face was determined, both hands on the wheel of the vehicle. She wasn’t paying any attention to him, her entire focus on moving forward.

The road ran along a ridge overlooking the valley. “That must be it.” Cullen said. “Outside your window.” She chanced a look and saw green crackling mass in air above the valley. It was nearly at eye level. Crystalline formations jutting out, exploding and returning into itself.

She could see the fight down below against creatures she couldn't imagine in her worst nightmares. They still had to make it to the far side of the valley and down the water-worn slope. A shift of her foot and hand pushed the vehicle even faster.

“The turn is just ahead.” Cullen said. He waited a moment and then glanced over at her. “You need to slow down, there’s a turn up ahead.” He warned, trying to hide his alarm.

Still, she didn’t respond. Not even a look in his direction. Her hand moved between them, grabbing a horizontal lever. He didn’t know what it did, but he knew he was going to wish he had something to hold onto.

“Maker’s breath.” He let out, reaching behind him to grab the headrest of his seat, his other arm bracing against the dash in front of him.

When he was sure they were going to die, she spun the wheel and a mere moment later, lifted the lever. He was thrown against the side of the vehicle and for a time, it seemed like they were going lift off the ground on the driver’s side and slam into the wall.

Cullen had always believed that if you couldn’t trust someone completely, you couldn’t trust them at all. The only thing that he trusted in that moment was that his death would be instantaneous if that happened. But if she made this turn, he would absolutely trust her with his life for however long that would be.

She slammed the lever back down and cut the wheel. Amazingly, the vehicle straightened out and regained it’s momentum. They tore down the deep embankment and she belatedly realized that the valley floor was a frozen lake when the back end started to slide to the right. She hit a button on the dash in front of her and the vehicle corrected itself with a jerk. He could hear ice crunching and grinding under the wheels now.

She slowed when she saw a bald elf with a staff. Energy just seemed to erupt from both his hand and his weapon. As they drew closer, she saw the dark-haired woman again, hydrogen blade cutting at a hunched demon that lumbered toward her, sending a screech through the air that she could hear in the cabin, even from that distance.

The vehicle skittered to a stop, throwing up ice. Cullen threw open the door and was gone. Jules gripped the steering wheel and focused on not hyperventilating. She didn’t plan on getting out of the vehicle. She just wanted him to be able to help his friends. She could feel her hands shaking so she gripped the steering wheel tighter, until her knuckles turned white.

Jules peeler her eyes from the dash and looked at the chaos in front of her. The dark haired woman she remembered as the Seeker, was facing away from her, engaging one demon. She glanced over and saw another approaching from behind. It’s odd, gangly gait made her shiver with disgust. She managed to release her iron grip on the wheel and laid on the horn.

The sound echoed through the frozen valley, but the woman wasn’t able to disengage from her current enemy. The demon drew closer and closer, the entirety of its focus on the woman. Unaware, or perhaps uncaring that the opposite door was still open, she released the clutch and slammed down the accelerator. The tire studs had a hard time finding their grip, but when they did she shot forward.

She managed to gain a considerable amount of speed and momentum in a very short distance. The Seeker dispatched her enemy and spun. She didn’t see the demon that was nearly upon her, she only saw Jules hurtling toward her. There was no time to move or react, but she didn’t have to. She wasn’t the vehicles target.

She slammed into the demon and heard it roll over the roof of the vehicle. It landed in a heap near the stunned Seeker, screeching and scrambling to stand. She finished it quickly and sprinted to the still open passenger side door.

Jules gaze was straight ahead and when the Seeker spoke, her head turned, startled. “Thank you.” The Seeker said with an appreciative nod. Her voice was grave and apologetic. There was weight behind her words and Jules was sure she meant it. She nodded in response and swallowed hard.

#cullen can't drive stick #space trash #sneak peek #Jules Trevelyan #cassandra pentaghast #solas #demons are the devil #sneaky bastards #i just hope this isn't actual trash #my new baby #what am i getting myself into

16 notes · View notes

kitten-keith · 5 years ago

Text

Liquid Glitter

Here, have a tiny thing (and I do mean tiny) while I go through my wips and see what I can hand off to you guys. And fair warning, all it really has is some kissing and grabbing. Implied more after but mehhh.

Heavily inspired by the bar fight in Lucifer’s last season. Probably wrote the first two pages of this while watching the episode lbr.

Word count- 1498 (I told you. Tiny.) Rating- T for kinda intense make outs? Heckie idk. Oh! And some vague homophobia for like two seconds. Ship- Klance, as usual.

---

It’s been years since the war and Keith and Lance can be found sitting at a private booth in a bar reminiscing, eating shit, drinking, maybe even getting a little playful with each other. Lance shoves Keith in their little booth and Keith laughs and turns to do it right back but gets a little lost staring into Lance’s face, a small smile on his lips until he asks...

“Hey, why didn’t we ever hook up?”

Lance blinks and chokes out a “What?” Though his cheeks start to darken almost immediately, proof he knew exactly what Keith meant.

Keith goes on anyway.

“Like… just… I mean, we’re soldiers, two very hot soldiers, we know each other better than anyone else in the known universe, got each other’s back… you’ve got a nice back… I mean. With all the times we got locked in rooms together, side missions, stranded on planets, just— you’d think we’d have hooked up by now.”

“Keith I dunno how to tell you this bud, I mean you’re definitely like— unholy levels of— well— beautiful— but like. I’m not. I’ve never been…uh...Gosh this is a really good drink. You wanna try it?”

Keith glances at the cup in Lances hand, it’s purple and kind of glitters, a little like Lance’s lips.

Keith has been ordering ales. Not adventurous and pretty much a light weight. Lance had been ordering all these strong colorful things, two for every one of Keith’s and barely getting fuzzy around the edges. Clearly more seasoned. He told Keith he’s been drinking since he was sixteen and was “good at it.”

Keith meanwhile felt hot in the face.

In the face and in the chest and Lance’s lips sparkled…

“What’s...what’s it taste like?” Keith murmured aloud.

Lance blinked and took a long drought from his cup. He very clearly swished his tongue around his mouth to get a good solid taste of his own drink so he can explain the taste properly, but Keith gets impatient.

Or opportunistic.

Thinking about the way Lance’s pupils dilated when he looked at Keith and stumbled out the word “beautiful”

Staring at the liquid glitter on Lance’s beautiful lips.

So, he slips his hand behind Lance’s neck and pulls him in until his lips are a breath away from his own.

And despite his earlier renouncement of his interest he comes without a fuss, his lips even part in just the most inviting way…

His eye lids slip down and his hand slides around Keith’s waist and pulls him in just a bit closer and—

And someone nearby makes a particularly improper comment and Keith sees red.

And despite Lance— beautiful and perfect and right within his grasp— being so, so willing, Keith has to pull away and remove that horrific stain on that perfect moment.

Because if he’s going to kiss Lance, really, finally kiss Lance, then it isn’t going to be to the backdrop of some loathsome ingrate whose brain is stuck so far in the past his immediate ancestors were possibly fish.

It’s unfortunate that a whole brawl broke out when Keith took that first guy down, but is it really his fault someone didn’t recognize the leader of the Paladins of Voltron?

Besides, Keith’s had just enough to drink to stop being too cautious about his own strength and skill and he crushes the minor riot in a few quick flips and well-aimed kicks.

He imagines it could have been a nice little warm up if he still had the Altean castles training room to work out in later.

Marmora missions aren’t nearly as hands on anymore and Keith is signing up for them less and less to help Lance and the others at the garrison.

So, getting in some actual hand to hand? Using the muscle he’d built up for years and had no excuses for anymore? Just feels good to stretch his legs like that. Release some of that tension.

By the time he turns back to Lance who’d since returned to their table to sip at his drink again and watch him take care of the stragglers, Lance is looking at him funny.

Not funny haha but funny weird.

Weird in the way it kinda settles as this warmth in the pit of his stomach and his face gets even hotter than it was previously and his voice may be a little shrill when he speaks as opposed to the cool and aloof demeanor he’d displayed while kicking bar rioter ass.

But it makes Lance smile so screw aloofness.

“L-Lance?”

Lance lifts his glass and holds it out to the ex-red Paladin as he walks over on legs that are far shakier than they need to be.

“Still wanna try?” He chuckles a little.

And Keith is disappointed by his wasted opportunity but nods, reaching for the glass.

Except, Lance retrieves it, presses the glass to his lips and downs the rest.

Keith eyes the shimmer on his lips again. The way Lance leisurely places the cup back down on the table behind him and tilts his head forward as he taps the corner of his lips.

“You better act fast or you’ll miss it.”

It may come as a surprise, but Keith really and truly… couldn’t give a damn about the drink.

It was good, sugary sweet like candy. Keith would have wondered if it was even alcoholic if it wasn’t for the fact that the moment Keith’s lips touched Lance’s it felt like something bursting in his chest. The culmination of years of want. Of questioning Lance’s sincerity, of wishing to just take this one step—

Lance’s lips part invitingly, and Keith can’t even be bothered to care that they’re surrounded by groaning and or knocked out men laying on the floor of a bar in the outskirts of town.

Keith takes that invitation and his tongue finds more of that sweetness in Lance’s mouth but it’s not what he wants.

He pushes deeper, stands on his toes in an effort to tower over Lance and push him against their all but forgotten table. Lance chuckles instead, holding his ground as his hands go around Keith’s waist again. He grips his sides as he presses their bodies together, the strength in his hands causing Keith to sigh into the kiss that’s finally starting to taste like it’s just Lance.

It fills him with renewed vigor, and he moans into the kiss, the noise startling Lance just enough for him to land back into their booth.

By the time they finally part Lance is on his back on the booths seat with Keith’s knees straddle his waist. Keith wants to go right back to it, but Lance looks like he’s catching his breath to say something, so he waits.

Because contrary to popular belief, he loves every ridiculous word that comes out of his mouth.

He listens to Lance slowly start to chuckle, so he waits.

Because even if it’s some stupid joke, this is Lance’s response to their first kiss, and he knows he’ll want to remember it all.

He feels Lance’s hands as they start to come around him, one up the side of his face and into his hair, the other around his waist and squeezing; and still Keith fights every instinct in him to kiss him again because Lance’s eyes are gleaming.

Keith squirms instead, because he’s impatient and he needs Lance to know without a doubt how much he’s struggling. Lance’s breath hitches at the movement and he almost loses his cool, instead he tugs on Keith’s hair and dips his other arm just low enough to grip Keith’s ass cheek through his pants.

Keith’s lips fall open on a silent moan and he’s seconds away from begging Lance to let him kiss him again when Lance laughs.

“Oh man… definitely unholy.”

And Keith loves it, because Lance is smiling and breathy and beautiful, but also, “Is that it?!”

Lance grins and tugs him down by his hair, eliciting another questionable sound from Keith before their lips meet again.

It’s a few moments of grinding their hips together and memorizing the feel of each other’s mouths, completely ignoring the bar and the rest of the world around them, when Keith finally pulls away.

“Take me home.”

He pulls off Lance completely and grabs him by the hand, pulling him out of the booth and tugging him to step right over the unconscious body of one of Keith’s many victims this evening.

Lance makes a face at the carnage, probably having forgotten all about it, that looks somewhere between embarrassed and proud before he squeezes Keith’s hand and follows him briskly out of the bar.

“Yup, I’m probably in love with a demon.”

Keith paused and looked back at him, unsure if he’d heard correctly. Lance’s face reddens but once again, he holds his ground, staring him right in the face and taking nothing back.

So, Keith laughs instead.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

#kitten writes #ficlet #bar fight #it's puny cause I can't write fights lmao #making out #oh whoops #first kiss #drunk kisses #sort of?#I feel like Keith came back from kicking ass like yooo I'm good ya know?#Idk #have fun #klance #klance ficlet #limey?#hi my name is Kitten and I hate tagging

45 notes · View notes

dragonnan · 5 years ago

Text

In-Progress Fics (Multifandom)

These are the stories I’m actively working on. If there are WIPs not on this list it means they’re on long term hiatus. I’ve included links (where applicable) and small teasers for each story. This is a bot long so I’ve included a cut. Fandoms include: Sherlock, Doctor Strange, Avengers, and Psych

Psych:

Painted Wings and Giant Rings (rape/noncon warning) Current chapter in development: epilogue Words in chapter so far: 309 Teaser: The dragonflies were reluctant to lift off from the sidewalk – even with three pairs of feet headed their way. A lazy last second hover relocated one of the bright green insects to the bumper of a blue car – though not out of danger. Pudgy fingers reached to grasp it – only to be denied their prize as the child they came with was lifted high out of reach. “Sorry, Phin, mom said no bugs today.” Squirming, face furious, the baby struggled to get back to the ground – a tiny hard shoe kicking wild and impacting a sensitive belly. “Hey -ow! C'mon Son, don't be the Snuffleupagus that only Big Bird can see.” Still wriggling, the toddler grabbed two fistfuls of his father's short beard instead – cackling at the wincing face his actions triggered. “Snuff-up-gus!” he chortled. Behind them both, Juliet giggled – unable to hold her stern expression towards the wayward child. “Shawn, did you just say c'mon son... to your son?” Twisting out of the clutching fingers – surely leaving behind several pieces of beard – Shawn flipped the youngster upside-down – holding him tight by the waist. “I am the father of irony, babe.” Further back, protecting his dollar cup of mini donuts, Gus snorted. “Father of bullsh... uh... baloney, you mean.” “Boney!” Phin chortled – waving his arms. Gently spinning the tiny terror right-side up, again, Shawn rubbed his beard against a petal soft cheek – nearly losing his hearing at the piercing shriek that followed. “Jesus, Spencer, do I need to write you up for disturbing the peace?” Shawn spun on his heels and pressed a broad hand against Phin's left ear; mashing the right one against his chest as he glared at the approaching detective and his family. “Dude, no bad language in front of the kinder!”

OOMPA LOOMPA DO BA DE DIE - Virtual Season 9, Episode 5 (unpublished) Current chapter in development: 2 (of 4) Words in chapter so far: 7,496 Teaser: “Alright, everyone! Are you ready for the first stop?” Shawn gave the room a swift back and forth scan. “I… thought this was the first stop?” Veronica grinned. “Haha! Not exactly, Mr…?” “Spencer, Shawn. And this is my partner, Fannie May ‘Spanx’ Nicoletti. I call him ‘Gummi Bear’ for short.” “Bouncin’ here and there and everywhere.” Gus shared a fist bump with Shawn - toning down his typical come hither leer to a neutral grin. He was, after all, a taken man. “Uh huh,” addressing the group as a whole, Veronica stepped towards a set of plain gray double doors. “So then, if you would please follow me, it’s time to see some magic!” A press of the thumb against the green button next to the doors, and they began to swing apart. Shawn and Gus pushed and wriggled their way to the front - Gus keeping just ahead of his friend with a wicked hip check that sent his buddy plowing into a set of cooling racks. Metal clattering and a round of grousing followed as Shawn disentangled from the rolling racks - almost wobbling into a blue cabinet on the far wall before he got his bearings again. “Dude, cheap shot!” Glares all around from the better mannered members of the tour - the small girl leveling a kick to Shawn’s ankle as he shuffled past her and her grandpop. “Ow! Hey!” Her tiny nose wrinkled at him - her elderly backup pushing up a sleeve in mild threat. “I’d avoid any geese that lay the golden eggs if I were you.” He muttered before moving on to rejoin Gus near the front of the group. But all dreams of technicolor vengeance vanished at the vista that opened before him. Color - like a thousand pixies had just waged battle with a thousand unicorns; their glorious war leaving their brilliant hues across every surface. Bright blue walls, orange ceiling, green floor, blazing yellow packing crates… even the uniforms of the factory works were splashes of rich lavender vibrance. Veronica was nearby; expounding on the factory and the management of blah blah. Shawn, however, was locked in on the source of all that was right with the world. A glorious, gushing masterpiece of culinary and engineering mastery. “Gus!” His hand latched to the right, gripping with fervor at the same moment that Gus snatched his arm right back. A hard swallow, and they both spoke with the awed wonder of two supplicants meeting their Master. “The Cocoa Cascade!”

Sherlock:

The Tiger and the Shark (rape/noncon warning) Current chapter in development: 21 Words in chapter so far: 2,349 Teaser: While Sherlock was settling, once more, John pressed the button on the control pad, next to Sherlock's bed, to alert the nursing staff. With Sherlock awake they'd want to do a vitals check now rather than have to wake him later. “Any pain?” Sherlock opened his mouth and John lifted his chin. “Don't lie.” Grimacing, the detective pushed out his lower lip. “Some. Shoulder, mostly.” “How about the arm?” Sherlock rotated his right hand and jerked with a hard flinch. “Tender.” “Yeah, I'll bet. Maybe try not to move it next time, ta.” Another touch to Sherlock's brow; concern when Sherlock didn't so much as roll his eyes this time. The numbers on the monitor hadn't changed in the last ten minutes and John rubbed his fingers across his lips. “Is it bad?” His eyes may be glazed over but Sherlock's perception was still sharp. John dropped his hand back to his lap where he rolled a loose thread from his jumper. “Well, it's not good. Fever hasn't gone down, yet. We can change out your ice packs, however, and your nurse should be...” The smart knock finished his sentence as a young man eased open the door and popped his head in. “Oh, hey, look who's awake, then.” He smiled through his thick Welsh. “Now then, Mr. Holmes, I understand you'll be needing a top off.” Clearly less than thrilled by the affable man, Sherlock pulled his right arm towards himself, in spite of the wince it caused. “Go away.”

Unpublished Molly-centric story fill set between TRF and TFP - eventual Sherlolly (domestic violence warning) Teaser: “I just wanted to let you know that... well, Dennis is scheduled to be released this afternoon. I didn't find out myself until twenty minutes ago. I know he was meant to be in longer but... well we both know the justice system is a joke. Listen... call me, alright? Let me know... well, I'm here if you need me, yeah. Christ. Just, look after yourself, Molly. I'll talk to you soon.” Molly hung over her sink long after Greg's message had ended.

MCU:

Avengers: New Beginnings (not Avengers Endgame compliant) Current chapter in development: 3 Words in chapter so far: 1,415 Teaser: His head was throbbing. Anxiety wasn't new to him. Since The Bite he'd felt various degrees of nervous energy plucking at the back of his skull. Those first weeks, while trying to make sense of sticking to everything and breaking way too many glasses in a suddenly astounding grip, he'd also been trying to get a grip on the flood of adrenalin surging through his blood on a regular basis. But this... since coming back from the Dusting, he couldn't stop the feeling like... like his senses were going crazy. Like, at first he'd just thought it was because he'd come back in time to see Mr. Stark collapse; arm charred and body starting to seize. He'd thought Thanos had been terrifying but to stand there and helplessly watch Tony just... dying... But then Doctor Strange had opened one of his spin-y portals and Mr. Stark had been carried through and Peter had raced after them and then he was in a hospital and everything had gotten blurry in his memory but he remembered sitting next to Happy and eating Kettle chips until he'd suddenly had to throw up and then he couldn't stop throwing up and for some reason Happy had been holding his head and then Peter had been crying... But Mr. Stark had survived. They'd had to cut off his arm but he'd survived. And Peter had... well he'd smiled at him, when he'd started to wake up and was all groggy and Tony had made a joke and Peter had smiled. But then... but then he'd... cried. Just cried and rubbed his eyes and it wouldn't stop and Mr. Stark and grabbed his sleeve with one hand and pulled him across his chest... It had been nice. Weird and sad and happy but... nice.

“What Did You Do?” Stephen Strange 2019 Bingo Prompt (unpublished) Teaser: “I groveled. I groveled my ass off. And then I made sure that I followed through on every single promise that I made to her.” Was the answer to the question that Stephen had never, actually, asked. Was there something on his face that screamed “single guy in desperate need of dating advice”? “What?” Tony smirked. “You have been ogling the pretty lady doctor for five minutes. Either you are more of a creeper than I'd pegged you for or there's a history with you two that resulted in the lost puppy face you've been sporting.” Stephen crossed his arms. “I'm not ogling Doctor Palmer. I'm making sure she doesn't just pass me off to; shit...” Tony lifted an eyebrow as a slender young man, pushing at least seventeen, toyed with his Harry Potter rims before angling their way through the soup of damaged, disgruntled, and one seriously put out Doctor.

“Whump” Stephen Strange 2019 Bingo Prompt (unpublished) Teaser: The corded straps tightened over his wrists with every turn of the of the bar; corkscrewing the restraints until the joints in his wrists popped under the pressure. Stephen grunted through his teeth and rocked his head back against the wooden headrest. Muscles twitched in his cheek from the grinding movement of his molars. Zings of pain lanced through his fingers in a steady heartbeat; sharp and electric. The turning bar was locked into place; his hands purpling under the crushing pressure. Too much longer and he'd start to experience tissue death. He couldn't even appreciate the spreading numb as circulation was pinched off – the pain of crushed tissues firing a throbbing ache all the way to his elbows. “There, now. Lovely, yes? You have such beautiful hands, Doctor. A shame about the scars.” A touch traced across the back of his fingers; feather light across darkened scar tissue and Stephen locked his arms around the impulse to flinch. A backlog of remarks sat, wasted, on the back of his tongue – locked behind his teeth with a wad of blue silk. The fabric carried the traces of expensive cologne and sweat; a nauseating blend of sour and bitter that caught in his sinuses. His eyes, alone, remained free to observe; though what there was to see was limited in the darkened space. A bedroom; that much was clear; a large bed layered in heavy quilts, several lamps; all dark save for the one with the shade tilted towards his face. The floor, however, was bare wood; though it wasn't too dark to note the rust dark stains overlapping and soaked into the grain. A simple grocery run. No other worldly battles, no inter-dimensional carnivorous slugs, no maniacal purple aliens, not so much as a flerken in a tree. In fact, his purchases currently resided in a corner of the room – milk warm, by now, the deli meat likely a total loss. No robes, no cloak, no Eye of Agamotto. His sling ring was currently worn by his unwelcome companion – though it was a tight fit on his thick fingers. The ring, along with the rest of his possessions, had been pocketed sometime after the heavy blow had stolen his consciousness. His skull still throbbed and he could feel the tickle of blood on the back of his neck. Unclear how long he'd been out but concussion was almost a certainty. The larger figure circled the modified chair to which he was bound – much like a heavy-duty school desk with restraints bolted at every joint as well as his waist and throat. He could curl his toes and roll his eyes but even his head was held face forward by a clamp surrounding his skull – preventing him from following the movement of his captor as he moved out of sight. He could hear him, however; a gait marred by the drag of his disfigured right foot; an impediment that had certainly not hindered him in abducting the Master of the New York Sanctum. Yes, the thought carried all of the sarcastic weight he'd been prevented from expressing. “I've watched you. Oh, for years, now.” The drag-step moved to his left side and this time Stephen did flinch as heavy fingers brushed across his cheekbone; mortified at the muffled grunt that pushed against the mouthful of smooth fabric. The hand dropped away and then the man was before him, once again. “They never truly, appreciated you, did they; your peers. All of those miracles... all of those lives saved... only to throw you away when they no longer thought they could use you.” The touch returned to his scars and Stephen swallowed – hand jerking against his manacles. “All because of an accident.”

Untitled Irondad and Spiderson fic (unethical medical experimentation and torture warning) (unpublished) Teaser: Tony had, by now, moved from the roof to the sidewalk and it was, pun regretfully employed, child's play to enter – alarms disabled with a flick of his AI. His last visit, an hour earlier, had been a more restrained affair due to the warehouse being in operation. In fact, he hadn't even entered – keeping his surveillance covert (in spite of Nat's assertions otherwise, yes, he could do subtle). The first red flag had arisen upon noting the level of security wrapping the building like a Christmas present. On paper, the place was a manufacturing plant for the military. Nothing weaponizable; more along the lines of meal trays, pop up buildings, carabiners, and the like. The second red flag was location. Why would the military have a contract with a small manufacturing warehouse in the middle of the suburbs? “Interior scan.” The recording had continued to play as he walked; mostly the sound of idle chatting as Peter explored the warehouse. “... I mean it isn't like she can't grow things; she raised me, right? Maybe we just need better fertaliz... what was that?” “I am not detecting anything.” “No – no there was... it wasn't a sound it...” A piercing throb blasted through the speakers; though not as ear-splitting as his first time hearing it. “...en? Karen! Shit! What was... Oh crap, oh crap! Karen! Karen – Mr. Stark! I, ow! Mr. Stark I don't... I don't know if you're still getting this but... but... No!” A flurry of sounds – clangs and what sounded like an electrical hum followed by Peter giving a sharp cry and, most disturbing, a damp CRACK and a scream. There were several seconds of silence. Then... “It's coded to the suit! Mr. Stark, it's code-” And that was it.

“Sed Diabolus” (unpublished - massive multi-chaptered story conceived with the brilliant assistance of @kitcat992) There is very little actual story text at this point - the current development stage is outlining this beast. However, I can share a smidgen of what this fic will entail. This is yet another “fix-it” for endgame. Without giving too much away it involves a a villain from Stephen Strange’s past along with a terrifying and malevolent being from the comics. There will be crossing between universe’s, threats of world domination, death and destruction, fire, explosions...

I have just a small little teaser below but I promise more once the story goes into full production!

Stephen gaped as the floor peeled away from the massive form; pointed ears and red skin; cliché devil it may be the utter horror it projected swallowed any quip he may have conjured. Searing heat baked from its flesh and reddened through his own ghostly form in a way that should have been impossible!

“Sorcerer...” The voice rattled from its throat like a plague of locusts and it grinned with bladed teeth. Without further comment it thrust a clawed hand through Stephen's form... and he screamed as he was engulfed in fire.

#fanfic #wips #multifandom #Sherlock #Doctor Strange #irondad and spiderson #Psych

1 note · View note

juju-on-that-yeet · 6 years ago

Text

Close Call

@spookyscarydarky remember like eight years ago when I posted a paragraph from a WIP and told you I was writing about Yan and Chrome finally? And how you probably thought it was a fun happy fic about them hanging out together? Well...sorry in advance ;w;

Heed the warnings, my friends. I’m honestly a little surprised at how abhorrent I was able to make some of this.

Summary: Yandere dragged Chrome to the club expecting a fun night out, but it ends in almost the worst way imaginable.

Warnings: Sexual assault, threat of rape/non-con, blood, violence, death of an oc

Chrome hates places like this.

Nightclubs are always filled with the absolute worst mankind has to offer, and this club is no exception. Chrome is surrounded by loud, sweaty humans, forced to watch them interact. His heightened senses pick up everything; the too-loud music, the shrieking giggles of female humans, the boisterous shouts of male humans, the smell of sweat and alcohol heavy in the air, the flashing lights. At the bar sit humans getting way too drunk and spilling beer all over the floor, out on the dance floor are humans flailing around with reckless abandon and shamelessly grinding on each other, not caring who sees. And when their lust gets to be too much, they drag each other off to the bathroom. Chrome has no doubt about what goes on in there, given that he’s been propositioned by several people himself so far. As if Chrome would ever want to get that close to a disgusting, stupid human. As if Chrome wouldn’t rather be back at Ego, Inc. instead of here. He hates people, doesn’t want to dance, and, because he’s an android, can’t even get drunk to attempt enjoying himself. Normally the bartender is a respite in these places: The one person who has to stay sober and level-headed to keep the place from burning down. But Chrome doesn’t even have that tonight. The bartender, despite being rather handsome by human standards, is as bad as every other human in here. He serves people past their limits and leers at attractive patrons while Chrome looks on in disgust. Why the hell is Chrome even here again?

“Aka-kun! Hey!”

Oh, right.

Chrome doesn’t go out with Yandereplier that often, for all the reasons previously stated. Occasionally, though, Yandere will beg for his company, complaining that it’s not as fun to go alone. Chrome can’t see how Yandere gets any enjoyment out of it at all, truthfully, but he finds him hard to say no to. Besides, Yandere’s prone to getting into trouble in places like this, and there’s no such thing as having too much backup. Especially now, when he’s more than a little drunk and stumbling over with yet another cocktail. Chrome wonders if a decent bartender would still be serving him at all.

“Yandere, haven’t you had enough?” Chrome asks him. He has to talk louder than normal over the music.

“Aww, don’t be a party pooper!” Yandere giggles, taking a long sip of his drink. He shivers but grins as the alcohol burn travels down his throat and into his chest. “It’s a strawberry daiquiri, but I told the bartender to use vodka instead of rum. Or maybe it was both? Anyway, it’s soooo good, Aka-kun! Try it!” He thrusts the drink forward, spilling a little. Chrome leans away, disgust clear on his face.

“No.”

“C’mon Aka-kun, it’s not like you’ll get drunk!”

“I’d almost prefer it if I could.” Chrome sighs. “Maybe then I might be able to tolerate this place.” Yandere pouts, but quickly recovers.

“More for me then~!” he laughs, taking another sip. After leaning so far forward he’s unsteady on his feet, and takes a step back to compensate. But he overcorrects and nearly trips. Chrome grabs his arm, the one holding his daiquiri, to steady him.

“Aka-kun, don’t spiiiill it!” Yandere whines, even as he flops forward into Chrome’s chest.

“You already spilled it earlier,” Chrome mutters, “It’s time to go home. You’re way too drunk to stay here.”

“I don’t wanna go home yet!” Yandere yells, so loud a few people turn to look, “It’s only two in the morning! I’m havin’ fun!!”

“You won’t be having fun when you’re hungover tomorrow, and it’ll only be worse if you stay here all night.” Chrome moves to lead him away and out the door.

“You’re not my dad, Aka-kun!”

“I am one hundred percent certain that Dr. Iplier would’ve made you go home hours ago.”

“Aka-kuuuuuun…”

“Begging is not going to work on me right now.” Chrome continues to guide Yandere towards the club’s exit. “I’m taking you home, end of story.” Yandere’s expression suddenly becomes mischievous, and he grins.

“You’ll have to catch me first~!”

In a blink of an eye, Yandere pulls away from Chrome and dashes off back into the crowd, laughing all the while.

“Get back here!!” Chrome yells after him, giving chase.

Although Yandere is much physically weaker than Chrome, one thing he does have over him is speed. Even drunk like this, Yandere somehow runs faster than most humans. He’s certainly faster than Chrome, especially since he’s small enough to weave through the crowd. Chrome goes as fast as he can, shoving past those in his way, but he quickly loses track of Yandere.

“Fucking great,” he mutters to himself. He prepares to do a room scan. It may not help much with all the bodies in the room, but it’s his best chance of spotting Yandere. The initialization process is nearly done when–

“Heyyy, cutie, you from around here?”

Chrome somehow manages not to groan externally as he’s swarmed by three human women. What little clothing they’re wearing is too tight and the stench of alcohol coming off them almost covers up their noxious perfume.

“I don’t have time for this,” Chrome mutters. He tries to step away, but the women circle him and whine in protest.

��Oh, come on, cutie, you have time for a–” The woman pauses to hiccup. “–dance, dontcha?”

“Yeah, dance with us~!” giggles another woman, “We’re, like, really good dancers.”

“Really good,” insists the third woman, trying and failing to seductively waggle her eyebrows.

“I’m not interested,” Chrome says trying to push through, but the women practically cling to him. As much as he’d like to deck them all, he knows doing so would cause a scene and likely get him thrown out, making it that much harder to find Yandere and get him home. He swallows his anger as the women start cooing over him.

“You’re super-cute,” one of them giggles. Chrome doesn’t care which. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business.”

“My name’s Cindy–”

“I’m Jenny–”

“I’m Tiffany–” She hiccups. “You look like my ex, but he was hot!”

“…Charming.”

“He was a piece of shit, but I bet you’re awesome!”

“Dance with us already!”

“Yeah, dance!”

Chrome tries to run a room scan as the women chatter at him, but it’s hard to do with them hanging off him. It takes five minutes for them to give up and stumble off to bother someone else, but it feels like much longer.

“Christ,” Chrome mutters to himself, “I am never coming with Yandere to one of these places again.”

He finally runs the room scan. His eyes sweep over the room, looking over every person, analyzing their chemical and genetic makeup and determining species. Human, human, human, human, human…

Chrome finishes the scan without finding a single figment.

Where the hell is Yandere?

He wonders if he has a poor vantage point. It’s certainly possible; the club has multiple rooms, and though the one he’s in now is the largest, he can’t see the entire interior from here. Yandere could’ve snuck into a VIP room or went back to the bar. It’s also very likely that he’s in the bathroom puking up all his cocktails. Chrome decides to check there first.

He keeps his eyes peeled for Yandere on the way, but doesn’t see him anywhere. Once he makes it to the bathroom, he does a quick scan to see into the closed stalls. There’s someone snorting coke off the toilet lid in one stall and a man and woman pulling each other’s clothes off in another, but Yandere is nowhere to be found.

He leaves the bathroom and passes by the VIP rooms, x-ray scanning through the walls. No Yandere. He goes back to the bar and scans. No Yandere. He tries the front of the club where he lost him in the first place. No Yandere.

Where the fuck is he??

For once in his life, Chrome is stumped. Where could Yandere have gone? He wouldn’t have gone home without him, would he? Where else could he be? How could he have disappeared so fast? Chrome decides to talk to the bartender. Although he seemed to be an unsavory character from what Chrome saw of him, he might be able to tell Chrome where Yandere went. It’s hard to miss a drunk guy in a skirt, after all, and there’s a chance Yandere went back for another drink while Chrome was being harassed by the group of women. He doubles back to the bar and stands by the counter, looking for the bartender.

It only takes him a moment to see the bartender, but it’s not the same guy. He looks a little older, and seems more focused on making drinks than eyeing pretty girls. After he finishes someone’s cocktail, he approaches Chrome.

“What can I get ya?” he asks.

“I’m looking for the other bartender that was here earlier,” Chrome says.

“Ya must mean Tony,” he replies, “He just clocked out. He was heading out with someone, probably helping them home. They were pretty drunk.”

A kernel of an idea forms in Chrome’s mind. An idea he hopes isn’t the right one.

“Who?” he asks anyway.

“I dunno, some guy,” the bartender answers. He pauses. “Or maybe a girl? Couldn’t tell, to be honest, but I’m not here to judge. They were wearing a skirt, though. Why?”

A wave of anger hits Chrome hard enough to make him see red.

He gets up from the bar and storms away, ignoring the bartender’s questioning calls.

~~~

Not a minute after Yandere ran away from Chrome and back into the club, he knew something was wrong.

Vertigo hit him almost as soon as he stopped running, making him drop his nearly-gone daiquiri and stumble into the person next to him. Said person yelled at him to watch it, as did nearly every other person he bumped into as he tried to get somewhere less crowded. His body suddenly felt heavy, and part of him wanted to sit at the bar, put his head down and take a nap. He knew how ridiculous that idea was, but his wobbly legs carried him to the bar anyway, where he sat on a stool and tried to get his scrambled mind in order.

He’d drank a lot over the night, sure. More than usual, since he had Chrome with him as a sober helping hand – “had” being the operative word, as Yandere had already run away from him and was too exhausted to go back and find him. But he shouldn’t be this tired. He could hardly keep his eyes open, and he couldn’t make his voice work to ask if anyone had seen Chrome.

He blacked out for a while–maybe a moment, maybe a minute or two–and woke to someone pulling him up and guiding him away from the bar. Someone who wasn’t Chrome.

“Wha…”

“Easy, easy, I gotcha.”

“Nn…”

“Just relax, don’t fight me.”

The bartender.

Yandere still can’t remember if he’d had the bartender switch rum with vodka in his strawberry daiquiri or add both, but he definitely added something. Something to dull Yandere’s senses, something to make him sleepy and dazed, something to render him boneless and quiet in his captor’s arms.

He can hardly struggle as he’s pulled out the side door of the club and dragged through the parking lot, and he can’t manage more than a whimper to people passing by. The bartender (Tony, was that his name?) easily explains it away:

“He just had too much to drink; he’s feeling pretty miserable right about now.” A laugh. “I’m taking him home, don’t worry.”

He’s lying! Don’t believe him! Can’t you see how upset I am? Help me! Get him away from me! Don’t let him take me, please…

Some people accept his explanation, some look doubtful, but everyone keeps walking as Tony guides Yandere through the parking lot.

“I’m glad you came by for so many drinks,” Tony whispers to him, “I figured you’d notice me drugging your drink if you were sober.”

Yandere sobs.

“Shh, you’ll be fine. How are you even still awake? I thought I’d gotten the good stuff.”

Tony has a point, Yandere supposes. If Yandere were a human, he has no doubt that he’d be unconscious by now. He wonders if that’d be preferable. He starts to shiver.

How could this happen? I’m usually so much more careful, I usually don’t have people trying to drug me in the first place. I have to get away, somehow, I have to stop him. But I still can’t move! I’m so tired. God, I’m so tired. Don’t do this to me, let me go, please…

After what feels like an hour, Tony stops walking, and Yandere hears the beep of a car unlocking. He’s unceremoniously tossed into the backseat before Tony comes in after him. The sudden movement sends Yandere’s head spinning. He only barely hears the door shut and the lock click over the blood rushing through his ears. He snaps back into awareness as Tony climbs on top of him, running his hands over his sides.

Don’t touch me! You’re not allowed to touch me! Yami’s the only one who gets to touch me like that, and you’re nothing compared to him! You’re less than nothing! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t–

“There’s no way you weren’t looking to get lucky in this getup,” Tony breathes, voice heavy with lust, “I bet you already know how great that skirt makes your ass look.”

Yandere tries to sob, but he’s cut off by Tony’s lips over his and his tongue pushing into Yandere’s mouth. Tony’s hands wander under Yandere’s shirt to rub his chest and pinch his nipples. Yandere tries desperately to push him off, but his body won’t cooperate. The adrenaline coursing through him only makes it harder to focus on moving his limbs, and it heightens his fear until he’s panicking too much to struggle.

Oh god oh god oh god stop it stop it get away from me please stop no no please get away get away don’t touch me stop it oh god why why why why why–

“Good boy,” Tony croons as Yandere goes limp, “The sooner you relax and let it happen, the more fun it’ll be for both of us.”

Yandere’s stomach churns, but he doesn’t have the strength to throw up. Not even when Tony presses closer, grinding his erection against Yandere’s crotch.

GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME–

“I almost couldn’t wait,” Tony says, panting into Yandere’s ear, “I almost said “screw it” and went to the bathroom to think of you and jerk off. But I’m glad I didn’t.”

Yandere sobs again, trembling ever harder underneath him. He feels a moment of relief when Tony gets off him, but it immediately fades when Tony flips him over onto his stomach, pulling him closer by his legs. The motion sends a wave of dizziness rushing through Yandere’s mind. Fatigue pulls at him ever harder, but he knows how dangerous it would be to pass out now. Once again, Tony’s next action pulls him to full alertness: He grabs Yandere by the hips and pulls his bottom half up, before moving his hands under Yandere’s skirt to grope him.

“I said it already, but your ass is fantastic,” Tony says, squeezing it roughly. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.”

Yandere is too panicked and weak and tired to even sob anymore, but his heart is still racing in his chest, fear still pulses through him with every heartbeat, spiking when he hears the ripping of a condom wrapper.

Oh god, this is happening, this is really happening. He’s going to rape me in the back of his car. Is he going to keep me here all night? Is he going to kill me after so I can’t tell? And even if he doesn’t, what am I going to do? What happens when I get home? What am I going to tell the others? God, what am I going to tell Yami?? And Aka-kun, oh god, he’s probably still looking for me! Why did I run away from him? Why didn’t I just agree to go home!? I shouldn’t have drank so much, I should’ve been more careful, I should’ve stayed with Aka-kun…Let me go back, let me do it over, please, please, I don’t want this, I can’t do this, please…

Yandere feels Tony push his skirt up and grab the hem of his underwear when the car suddenly rocks.

“What the hell?” Tony mutters, pausing his hands.

Next is the screeching of metal, and all at once, Yandere can feel the cool night air at his back.

“Woah, hey, who’re–”

Tony’s weight suddenly disappears from Yandere’s legs, and he scrambles to turn back over and see what’s happening. Meanwhile, he can hear Tony struggling against whatever–or whoever–pulled him away from Yandere.

“Look, we don’t need to tell anybody about this, alright? I can share if it’ll keep you quiet. I–wait, fuck, STO–”

Tony’s agonized screams are quickly cut off by the loud crunch of bone, followed by a heavy thud.

Yandere’s drugged and addled mind can barely keep up with what’s happening, so he panics even further when new arms scoop him up and out of the car. His limbs feel like jelly, so all he can do is squeeze his eyes shut and whimper.

“Calm down, Yan,” says a familiar voice, “It’s just me.”

Yandere’s eyes pop open to look up at the person holding him. It may be a pitch-black night with only the light from inside the car to see by, but the glowing red eyes staring down at him are unmistakable.

“Aka…” he gasps, relief crashing over him in a wave.

It’s Chrome, of course it’s Chrome. He wouldn’t have just left without Yandere, he’s probably been looking for him since he ran off. Yandere wonders what happened to Tony, and gets his answer when he looks down. Tony’s body is sprawled on the ground, like a doll carelessly thrown. His face is unrecognizable; bloody and meaty and misshapen, as if Chrome simply grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed. Knowing Chrome, he probably did just that.

“Did he hurt you?” Chrome asks. Yandere knows what he’s really asking.

“No…” Yandere answers, struggling to speak through the drug’s effects, “You…stopped him…”

Yandere can practically feel Chrome’s relief as his viselike hold on Yandere loosens ever-so-slightly. Despite this, Yandere can still feel the tightness in his muscles, still see the bright angry glow of his eyes. It’s clear he’s still enraged over Tony, even though the man’s already dead. Chrome is still seething, and his body is tense in a way that suggests he wants to keep killing, wants to destroy something, anything. Yandere knows him well enough to know that in any other situation, Chrome would be doing just that. But instead, he holds Yandere to his chest with a gentleness Yandere didn’t know he was capable of.

“We’re going home,” Chrome says.

Yandere can only nod.

The walk back to Ego, Inc. is mostly silent, with Chrome walking his typical brisk walk at a slightly faster clip than normal, and Yandere holding onto him tight. Every once in a while Chrome’s hold on Yandere tightens as well when they pass people on the sidewalk that give the pair strange looks. A few people try to approach them, but Chrome’s low, growled-out warnings and cutting glare send them back the way they came.

Yandere, meanwhile, is only barely aware of what other people are doing around him. He’s still working through exactly what happened, processing how he almost experienced something too horrible for words–hell, he already did; despite Chrome’s arms holding him tight, Yandere can still almost feel Tony’s hands crawling over his body. He can’t bear to imagine what he’d be experiencing right now if Chrome hadn’t come to the club with him, but he can’t stop thinking about how much better off he’d be if he’d just listened to Chrome in the first place instead of running off. He’d probably be crying if he wasn’t so tired.

Now that the panic and adrenaline has worn off, Yandere is more exhausted than ever. Whatever drug Tony had given him is still in his system, and he can only keep his eyes half-open. Not to mention he’s almost positive that Chrome has intentionally turned up the heat of his core to keep Yandere warm against the night’s chill. As tired and sluggish as he is, he doesn’t want to fall asleep yet.

“Aka-kun,” he whispers.

“What?” Chrome asks.

“’M sorry,” Yandere mumbles, “For…runnin’ off…”

“Are you kidding?” Chrome snaps, “Don’t apologize, you’ve been punished enough.”

“Arigato,” Yandere breathes, “Arigato…gozaimasu.”

“Christ, Yan…” Chrome huffs, “It’s not like I was just gonna leave you there. Why the hell do you think I came with you tonight in the first place?”

“Y’came…” Yandere says lifting his head to look at Chrome’s face, “Y’came to…protect me…?”

“Well,” Chrome mutters, clearly embarrassed, “I sure as hell didn’t come because I thought it’d be fun.”

Yandere smiles and lets his head drop back into Chrome’s shoulder.

“You’re th’best…”

“Yeah, whatever, just…just be more careful next time, alright? Especially if I don’t come with you.”

“Mmhmm…”

“…I’m glad you’re okay.”

Yandere doesn’t speak, but instead smiles against Chrome’s shoulder.

After so long of trying to keep himself awake, he lets himself relax. He has nothing to fear now that he’s bundled in Chrome’s arms. He finally begins to fall asleep, finally feels safe enough to do so. His head droops further into Chrome’s shoulder, and he yawns so big he squeaks. Chrome, in turn, holds him closer. Yandere’s eyes start to drift closed.

“Go to sleep, I’ve got you,” Chrome whispers.

“I know,” Yandere whispers back, just before sleep overtakes him.

#markiplier fanfiction #yandereplier #googleplier #markiplier #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #this is a Big Oof #also #i'm not linking my ao3 post this time #until the whole issue with links and tumblr gets resolved #my ao3 is amporasbitch if you wanna read it there tho

20 notes · View notes

stormears · 6 years ago

Text

The Sun on Jakku

Except from a fic I started before TLJ even had a trailer and I’m still attached to it, so here’s a 7,000-word long “snippet” of chapter 1. The full WIP currently stands at 13k words and is not going to be a 30k-ish oneshot like I originally thought.

Experience has taught me that copy-and-pasting text from a word document into a Tumblr textpost invariably makes random words that are next to each other smush into one word. I’m not going through a 7k long post to clear all of these. (I did it once on a 3k fanfic and different ones just showed up in its place.)

Recovering from his greatest defeat and humiliation, Kylo Ren lies in Medical and bleeds and sees visions of a little girl in a desert, growing up and starving and learning and fighting and feeling what he felt when he was young. He stills and watches her, for hours. For years. He’s with her right now.

She cut his face and he can’t see. The wounds are catching up to him, now, while he lies on his back in the snow. It brings a shiver through him. He turns, trying to move, to change, to see her and spit out the blood pooling behind his teeth. Kylo succeeds in spitting out the blood.

Underneath him, the planet surface groans and trees groan. Inside the chasm, the core and eternal fires are melting the dozen trees they had swallowed a minute before. He feels the heat, the sweat. Across the chasm is her but he can’t see her. He looks and is immediately obscured by the blood leaking into his left eye. The bowcaster wound screams disapproval through his gut and he falls onto his back again. She’s gone. The scavenger—into the snow—desert girl he carried her away she’s gone. The core belches fire somewhere near him and throws snow and hot wind at him, hard. He falls sideways a bit. A snowdrift collapses and spills onto his knees. The lightsaber rolls back and claps against his unwounded side. He doesn’t care. Every thought in his brain is running wild and crashing and he can’t focus. Can’t think.

Kylo can’t remember the worthless Stormtrooper’s number. He grinds his teeth. Hates him. Hate. He hated his father once. This unwelcome thought stops the very flow of his blood and he hacks out air and blood and maybe something else, maybe another scrap of whatever core of strength inside that kept him standing up today. Han Solo is dead. Han Solo. Worthless, indifferent bastard who loved him once. Once.

Once.

Scavenger gone. Father—father—

Someone grabs at his left shoulder, near where Scavenger jabbed into his muscle. Kylo yells and reaches for the attacker with one hand and clamps into a fist. He heaves it backward and his fist comes away holding square bits of some sort of droid armpiece. Whatever is left continues to pull at his shoulder.

Hux appears. His hair is loose, falling onto his cheeks. Like the scavenger’s had been.

“Sedate him now or we’re not making the ship.”

“Hhhelp me u-up, Hux. Now,” Kylo spits at him. But the redheaded rat only stares at him, upside down, while Kylo feels an uncomfortable prick in his collarbone. After he blinks away that odd pain, the trees are walking away. His head is lifted up. The chasm is out of sight and his clothes and head and everything around him is hotter than ever. Uneven patches of brown and white earth are floating past beneath the level of his eyes.

Kylo can’t feel his arms and cannot see the straps tying his body to a low flatback droid. He hears Hux behind him, yelling again. He tries to yell too.

“She’s getting a-WAY,” shouts a stranger who sounds a lot like him. He’s confused. It hurts. His face hurts. He tries to think about her—again—and the picture of her and the three funny hair buns blurs away like he’s become momentarily drunk. What comes back is a wide, wide view of a dirt field, the color of old and yellowed paper. There’s blinding sunlight here. It’s so bright, too bright, but opening and closing his eyes isn’t doing anything. He yells for Hux. Maybe he can do something.

Surely Hux heard him because he’s yelling for him to shut up. Kylo is hit by a stray branch from a tree that is falling down nearby, punctuated by a droid’s urgent beeping. Hux yells at them, too.

Somewhere underneath him is that familiar, controlled lurch of a landing ramp withdrawing. It goes hssssshshh when it closes and seals. The mixture of night and firelight slips away and he can see more sedated colors now. There are brown storage compartments marked in Basic that he can could just barely read if he wanted to, and big square things that are probably medcarts, a couple of them in a line. He knows this ship. It belongs to one of those small men on Hux’s bridge. The ship is still swaying, or he is. On top of the pain in his head and his side, now his stomach is quaking.

“Commencing evaluation,” says a droid. He turns his head the other way and closes his eyes.

In the semi-dark he tries to turn his thoughts away, too, away from all this hurt and the shame coming back to him so quickly and it’s so strong—like his own strong hands or his dad’s old hands on his own face because—and now he clamps his mouth and throat shut because he might vomit.

He sees her in his head, not ten minutes ago. She’s desperately blocking his side strike and backing away but she won’t get away, he won’t let her. The tree cover is too thin and he thinks in the moment that there’s nowhere on Starkiller where she can truly hide from him. He blocks her thrust one-handed and continues walking her to the cliff edge. His face is stinging, but behind his closed eyes he can see and feel the long, warm breaths she took after he offered himself to her. He wanted her to accept so badly. He waited.

He waited on her word and she turned on him. One heartbeat he listened to hers and the next, she was striking like a young god with menacing, targeted blows that made his arms tremble as he blocked. She stabbed him and cut him. Heat invading his skin and his face deeper than it ever should. Too shocked to scream. He fell onto his back in front of her. He was shedding tears through the burning pain and trying to get up and see her again. He fell because of his weak shoulder. Pain.

That he let her awaken that wild fighting prowess just inches away from him is as far from his master’s command as he could stray, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. Not…really.

A second droid with louder, bumpier wheels comes in and maybe joins the first droid in poking him but he refuses to pay their nasty beeping shells any attention. This is better. This picture he sees and how he can still hear the wind and the faraway missiles and her own breath, very close. One of the droids punches something into his flesh. With his mind he punches back. The thing’s head or whatever’s on the top half of it blasts into the wall and then blasts into a lot more pieces than it had before.

The scavenger grasping at his wrists while his saber spits and melts snow. Damn her damn her damn her for winning and running away. She fought him like she knew how he moved. Like they had the same brain but she was too ignorant to know it. Kylo reaches his hand out a little more and throws what remains of that second droid and curses again. He wants to crush the other droid, too. Crush this whole ship and his head and his stinging face.

His whole body shakes and erupts with electricity for a single second. Kylo chokes and his head flops the opposite way. Above him is Hux again, frowning like he does.

“Will you stop!? I’m trying to save your life, you worthless fucking child!” Hux screams and Kylo squints his eyes a little as though he might block some of the noise. He sees but does not fully register the tiny stun-blaster in the general’s left hand.

Hux slaps his gloved hand onto the spot where the second droid had jabbed him. It’s his right shoulder, he realizes. And that gloved hand is touching his skin and not his outer coat. Because her strike tore through part of his coat before it got to his face. Hux’s leather over his own skin feels some sort of unpleasant. Kylo is squirming away from it before he realizes he’s doing it. “I am trying to stitch you up and keep you alive. If you really want a pus-oozing scar underneath your clothes, you can have one. See if I care. I received no command to make you comfortable.”

Kylo hears most of the words and sees a mostly-clear mental picture of the little scavenger’s cloth-wrapped foot rising up to kick him in the chest. He is shaken. Everything inside scrambled.

Kylo attempts, “Is Starkiller gone?”

“Gone.” It was that and nothing else, as Hux would not explain further. The shame is coming back to him. Kylo bites down vomit again.

“Th. Thhhe scaven-ger.” He tries. His throat has a little blood in it, still. “Gone?”

Hux’s face changes somehow but Kylo’s weak eyes can’t pinpoint what part shifted or moved. “Probably not. A few officers glimpsed the Correllian freighter escaping with the rebels.”

“She’s on the Millennium Falcon?”

A snide smirk splits the general’s mouth. “That’s what it’s called? Yes. She was probably on it. I wouldn’t guess for a second that we were lucky enough to be rid of her.”

At first he’s thinking of her escaping the doomed planet. Escaping death. Then the phrase Be rid of her makes him think of her sharp-edged mind under his hand in the interrogation room. Her green eyes so desperately clinging to a spot on a wall to avoid him as he hovered. Kylo sees pictures of little droid parts held by small gloved hands and thinks about people throwing them away and being rid of them? This idea seems to appear from nowhere in his head. He blinks twice. Of course Hux would be staring at him when he can’t think clearly. When he’s ruined. This is horrible. He grits his teeth and glares. Shuts all the mess away.

“We’re meeting the Supreme Leader.” General Hux tells him some time later. Kylo doesn’t remember how many seconds have passed. “We’ll board his ship in two days and you are to explain yourself to him. No time estimate for that task was given. Understand?”

He says yes and looks away.

“And stay still for your examination, for Maker’s sake.” Hux adds. “Unless you really want to be infected and repulsive. If you stop fussing, you can be in a bacta tank in ten minutes and sleep the rest of the way.” He stops. Glares. “Bastard.”

“Don’t you have cadets to step on?” Kylo growls back.

“Phasma’s cadets could all step on you quite easily, if some starving slave bitch could do it alone. Or did that Stormtrooper do it? Did they gang up on you?” The general’s contempt slides somewhere near spiteful curiosity by the end, but Kylo Ren takes no notice of the change. He hears an ugly name falling through Hux’s mouth and he raises his hand towards it to kill it. General Hux slaps a hand onto his throat, trying to gasp.

“Don’t—insult her,” he says while the droid’s needles pull at his skin. “Do not.”

Hux’s eyes squint a little and he chokes out something that sounds like “what,” but Kylo does not notice this either. “Go away,” he tells Hux. The choke ends. Hux gasps and Kylo likes the sound of it.

As his head falls back a few inches onto the table, Kylo sees a bright bright bright field of dirt that’s golden-brown and empty except for one crooked comm tower with corroded metal plates on one side and a person sits at the base of it in its thin branch branch of shade the person has clothes that are pale and tan and their knees are up and their face is hidden and drawn into their knees but he knows they are only smearing one sweaty surface against another because it’s so so hot outside he’s gasping in th–

He and General Hux are both choking. Kylo’s head smacks back onto the table and he takes in a huge, shuddering breath. He can’t hear Hux’s gasps over his own. His eyes are huge, too, his gaze pinned directly onto the ship’s black, ribbed ceiling. He tries to think where this idea came from and why he thought about deserts, but there is no answer. He doesn’t know. He can’t remember. Already he’s kicking away from the thoughts that come to fill the void. He’s already scrabbling back to the picture of the scavenger instead, bounding away.

At last Hux comes into view again, right where he was when Kylo first choked him. He leans in with his face stony and solid. “You will be going into the bacta tank whenever I happen to remember to come check on you again.” Then he whirls around and exits Kylo’s field of vision.

Now he waits. He grits his teeth and picks out a medcart to stare at. After a few more blinks and needle pokes, a door at the other end of the room slides open and shut and the clapping steps of Hux’s boots are finally gone. Kylo exhales. He’s still when another droid whirs down the table or whatever he’s laying on and starts flashing scanners over every place where he’s bloody. But the scanners are silent and the room is silent and he feels alone. The droids don’t matter. Their memory will be wiped. So he lets himself start shaking again.

His mind was on the scavenger, was hiding from him but with the picture in his head of her running ahead of him, he’s accidentally bumped into thoughts of future punishment. He hasn’t thought about his master yet, doesn’t want to. But thought slips in that gap and squirms in anyway. He will have to face punishment for this. The Supreme Leader will break his bones. Break his thoughts open. It comes to him with easy familiarity that makes him grind his teeth. This scene of himself on a hard black floor and shaking and squirming. He gasps and cries like a little boy because his body is on fire without real flames and every ugly, weak, sinful thought is displayed for Master to touch. Master knows what he wants and is afraid of, and when he is tired and when he walks and sleeps and shits and obeys. He stops this picture. He knows what he sounds like while crying. He exhales loudly, listens to that instead. Looking around everywhere. Medcart over there. Droid scrap there. Oil spill? Definitely is. Inhale.

For the last time, Kylo exhales and tries to control the wriggling thoughts. Think clearly, smoothly. The scavenger. He had her. She’s gone. Her hand put this scar on his face and brought this blood in his eyes and caught him. Han Solo is gone. Dad. No no no he can’t go there yet no. Scavenger. He wanted to carry her. He’s still so muddled and he was muddled even before he landed on Takodana and saw the broken little castle and green trees where she was hiding, but he knows he’s seen her before.

He knows he’s seen her before. Kylo sees

he sees-

—

Someone grabbed her arm and yanked down, and she fell like a doll would. She’s halfway in the air, not standing or lying down but held in a crumpled, painful halfway point between them. She’s hot and she’s hurting.

It’s the first day. The glare of the sun is huge and painful. She’d never felt sun like this before and wanted to go inside but she was crying. In hindsight, far away from then and there, the heat of that day was nothing special or great. But Rey was five years old. She knew she was five. She knew she had to go home. She screams but the ship was infinitely louder than her tiny mouth and it was turning away from her.

They forgot her. Mama forgot her. That is worse than all the heat and the nasty dirt in her shoes. The heat on her skin is bad, but the nausea in her stomach is worse. Rey used all the breath she had to screech at her retreating silver ship and the engines dwarfed her little scream. The reality of the sight started to puncture her. Rey’s stomach turned in ugly somersaults she had never felt before. Kylo clamps his jaws shut against the heaving he then feels in his belly.

“So what’s it worth now?” somebody said. The ship was starting to get far enough away that conversation was audible again. Rey cried into that available void “come back come back come back” but the ship was not stopping. It soared, it shrank. It took in more sunlight and again forced her gaze away from the white glare. It hurts and she’s so, so scared because Mama left me Mama don’t go help me I’ll be good PLEASE wait

Rey screamed Nooo and was met with the same wall of all-encompassing sound that covered her own: a nearby engine was starting to spin. Its waves beat against her ears. Her stomach turned, the noise tunneling into her ears. Deep in. Jiggling her whole brain. Nothing would stay still. The motion and the fear were too strong for a child’s body. Rey released it all in screams while bile-tingled dribble sizzled in her throat and she had to stop to spit it out.

The hateful thing that held her wrist all this time came to life like a devil. It squeezed her wrist and turned her screams to wails. It yanked her forward and up so that she was finally almost standing. Prompted by the shade the thing cast over her, Rey finally looked at it: it was an enormous pink man, or a man-like sentient, and it blocked nearly her whole field of vision. His face looked like it had been melted and squished into a doughy mess in a cooking pan. His clothes were brown and he was so, so big. And fat. She absorbed most of these impressions in the space of one second and would register them later. After that one second he opened his mouth.

“I said to shut your squealing mouth!” Then the pink sentient yanked its arm downward thrashed her once against the ground like he was killing a fish.

The man spoke further of radiation cells, of which Rey knew and heard nothing. She knew and felt and heard only the hard pain of hitting the ground. It was too big, too strong, her senses overcome by it. Her left side was alive with pain like a living creature, eating her.

“For ninety credits. Yeah, he does radiation fixings too.”

A wind kicked up alongside the engine’s whooshing air and tossed sand directly into Rey’s mouth and eyes. For the very first time.

She spat out the sand-and-vomit mix that was sizzling around her teeth and tongue. This time she used her less-injured right hand to wipe the mess off her mouth. She cried for someone to help her please, or she thought she did, since she couldn’t hear her own words and no one else heard her. Eventually the pink man lifted her up again. Her toes left the ground. Rey was up high.

The big man said, “Great Maker, you’re still a fat little one. Are you listening to me?” She was not listening or looking. Her eyes were forced shut by the sun. “You’d better be listening. You keep on like that, I’ll give you something to cry about.” He paused and added more slowly, “Shut the hell up.”

As his arm came down and she mostly flopped to the ground again, She lay sideways on the sand and saw everything halfway turned, and her right arm held up high, for he still held her wrist. She breathed and breathed and breathed. A blaster went off somewhere, a sound that she knew from Mama and some holovids, but no one around her reacted.

“Maggo says nine hundred credits, flat.”

“He serious? He says that to my face and I might shoot him.”

“I think that whole radiation gem went to the guy’s head.”

Six minutes had passed. She would never know that time or how far her ship had traveled while she lay on the ground. The pink fish-man lifted her up again, made her stand again. Eyes shut, sun hot. Hot.

“You listenin’ now?” said the pink man, and Rey nodded several times as she thought was expected to do for teachers and grownups and big men. “You’re with me now. I got a scrap collecting business and you work for me. You fetch the scrap and I sell it. You understand?”

‘Work?’ she thought, but couldn’t muster any words or ideas past it. Work existed far away from her and she had only foreign words and dismissal to conceptualize it. It was for grownups, for really tall, sneaky people with briefcases and fancy holos. It should not have anything to do with her.

“You understand?”

Fear opened her mouth; without opening her eyes, the girl said, “I—can’t work.”

“You can’t huh? Too good for work? You got some inheritance money you can live off of, girl?” Rey did not understand him. “Guess you can’t get fed or housed, either. Maybe you’re such a tough little star you can do all that by yourself, then. Good luck. Out of my way.”

He dropped her. The wind slid and whooshed on every part of her as she fell. Rey hit the ground rear-first and curled her head in towards her stomach. She fought to take in air and then wailed, “Where’s my mama? I gotta g-go, go home! M-My ship went away!”

The sentient beside the pink man was a frowning Chagrian. “Broken holo, this one!”

“You don’t have a mum anymore, kid, may as well quit asking for her.” He scratched at a patch on his pant leg. “Sorgel, I might’ve wasted my credits on this one. One for the dust worms. Now get outta my sight.” He took a single step away from her. Two. Nonono no.

Her body opened up from its fetal position. The man cast no shade on her now but she tried to find his face through the sunlight. “No don’t! Don’t leave me here! Please! I can work. I can. I can do it.” Already she was sobbing. “Yo—You can’t leave me b-by myself. Mama and Dad aren’t here.”

Another hot wind came up and pushed sand towards her. Into her mouth again. She spat it out and covered her mouth.

The pink man stared down at her little arms and legs that were barely tanned. He guessed her age in standard years and knew how many oscillator gears would fit in her arms and the fractions of food that would fit in her mouth. A number he didn’t care about.

While tapping his fingers on his arm he asked, “So you have a name?”

Unkar Plutt’s mind is on moving numbers of scrap and portions as he asks; Rey’s is drowned in emotions too large for her. She has to separate the answer from everything else.

She thinks of a name and tells him what her name is.

“Rey,” said the fish man. “Your ship’s gone. Mama and Dad said you live here now. Get that straight. You do what I say now. You do the work I tell you to do. You don’t make no damn trouble. Do as you’re told and you get portions for your meals and you sleep in the shed with the other kids.” Rey heard kids and meals and work and processed nothing else. There would be other kids. Her eyes were shut against the sun once again and trying to hear for her ship’s engines drifting back down to her.

“Wh-wh-where’s my mom?”

“Sorgel, are we done or what?”

“Yessir.”

As the fish man said “Come on,” Rey started to get up off the sand. She’d lain there in some form of pain or another for what her mind insisted was almost the whole day. Seven minutes ago, her ship had taken off without her, though, and Rey was alone with the pink man.

She ran after him. There was sweat on her forehead, she noticed for the first time, and swept it away with the back of her hand. This was a desert, a real desert. It was hot and bad just like holos said but much worse, she was thinking. The heat was so strong that it had weight and pushed on the shoulders of every sentient below it.

“Where is this?” she asked. Her hand hovered above her eyes.

The man didn’t look back at her. “It’s Jakku, idiot. Worthless junkyard shit planet. You got anything else, ask it now. No more questions once I drop you off.”

Jakku was yet new and strange on that day; whatever life she had come from on her ship, whatever grownups there had been who threatened and said bad words, she had parents to keep their attention away from her. Not now. She shut up the rest of the way.

Three more ships went by as they walked, all of them smaller than Rey’s and most of them dull and mean colors that she didn’t like. She saw faded stripes and patches of dead silver showing through paint and she thought of her art markers that she could have used to fill in the patches with good colors. After they passed the third, Rey wiped some sweat away again. She was awfully sweaty. Ahead of them was a wide gateway with a horizontal, red top like an elongated mushroom. Rey stared at it as they walked under it and its spine-shaped shadow. Ahead of them was a little mess of a civilization.

The fishy man was walking towards a group of tents too big for her to see at once. She had to assemble the whole place out of impressions, looking left and then ahead and then way to the right to see it all. The settlement was constructed almost entirely out of tents in a careless assortment of sizes and states of wear. Sometimes there were small metal constructs that Rey didn’t know the word for. Some tents were a roof and no walls, some three walls with the fourth opened or gone. Strange objects visible through their gaps, like tables and helmets and boxes that looked like they’d been burned. Tan and brown and rotten-plant-green and black and other bad colors. The fishy man entered into a large gap between the tents, a street of sand.

A man stuck his head between two tent flaps and spat into the sand, and the fish-man stepped alarmingly near it, but Rey took several steps around it. Sentients that she’d never seen stepped around her too, or they stepped around the pink fish sentient. She passed a tent that was beige-colored instead of one of the nasty dark colors. It was almost a nice color, like milk. She thought of berry flavored milk and wanted some. It would help her feel less hot, but she didn’t have any here.

She looked pointedly at the back of the sentient’s fat head. “Scuse me, what’s your name, please?”

“Scuse me?” he said back. His tone made Rey want to curl up again, but she didn’t dare stop walking. “You call me Mr. Plutt and don’t say ‘please’ anything anymore. You do what you’re told and don’t fuss with the other kids, or I’ll call Hesselo.”

“O-okay. Mr. Plutt. Thank—” She stopped herself by slapping a sweaty little hand over her mouth.

Plutt turned right at a vague intersection and came into a sort of street marked by endless footprints and tiny bumps of sand kicked up by nonstop footsteps. On either side tents were leaning in, offering scraps of shade on each edge of the lane and huge arrays of objects and bottles and metal pieces. Her eyes swept across grey-green engine halves, opaque tubes of vaccines and sunblock mixed together, shelves with four tiers of coiled wire cables and four armed guards in black robes watching them. Rey could not see that two of the guards were staring after her as she went past, at her and Mr. Plutt walking together. One of them looked away.

The pitted walkway in the sand branched off three different ways and Mr. Plutt took the right branch. Rey stopped once to trace her eyes up and down the other two and see where they went, but her curiosity wasn’t strong enough to keep her rooted for long. She was at Mr. Plutt’s heels again soon. Then she nearly walked into the flabby backside of him.

Metal pieces tinkled against each other in front of him. Rey stopped to listen to the soft little sounds and leaned around Mr. Plutt fat backside to get closer, but they stopped as soon as they started. They were a set of keys too small for Plutt’s hands and he had unlocked the front door of a big shed.

Rey looked to her left and to the right—view somewhat interrupted by Plutt’s butt—and tried to calculate the size of this new building. She decided it could probably fit nine or ten Mr. Plutts inside. It was ten Plutts big. It was an almost-square building with an uneven roof and two windows with blinds made of rusted steel slats.

The door swung open. It creEEEAAAKKed as it went. Mr. Plutt hobbled forward through the doorway, leaving Rey at the sudden mercy of the hot sun. She hobbled forward, too, and found the building was a little less hot than outside. Three children were in here.

One of them was a human like her, a little bigger, a little older. The other two were new species that made her stare. On little piles of red tarps in the far corner was a young Sluissi, the race of green humanoid torsos and serpentine bodies below the waist. Rey’s eyes traveled all up and down the Sluissi’s body to fully comprehend its body shape. She didn’t observe the human or the other alien and did not have time to do so. Unkar Plutt went to the final sentient she hadn’t looked at yet and kicked it out of her vision. It slid backward and hit the tarp pile with a coughing sound.

“Make room for one more,” said Mr. Plutt. “This here’s Rey, she’s new and she’ll be sleeping here, too. Move.” This last was for Rey, but she failed to catch the message. “MOVE!”

She moved and the Sluissi and the human moved aside as she came close. Rey stood in between them and felt her first twinge of almost-fear as their eyes started roving all over her. The child that had been kicked grumbled and twitched under the tarp, still unseen. “Gather up in two hours. And no more nonsense from you.” None of the children said anything back to him. Unkar Plutt turned round and walked out the door.

After another few moments, metallic tinkling let them know that Mr. Plutt was holding his keys again. He locked the door. Rey, holding her hands up near her face, lowered them at last. The rest of her lowered as well, or fell, till she sat down nearly against the wall. One of the tarps crinkled underneath her bottom. The rest of her body crinkled: eyes, lips, limbs pulling together. She needed the strength to cry. She did not know how to unlock doors that grownups locked.

While she hid her eyes, the other three sentients began to move around. To her right, something skidded on a bare patch of floor. Rey gasped and let out a long cry when something struck the side of her head like a slap.

“Hey, hey! Are you the Chiss? I bet you are.” The thing struck her again and it hurt. She cried out at the spreading pain there, on the side of her body where Mr. Plutt had thrown her onto the ground. He was the first grownup to pick her up and throw her and hurt her today and now he locked her away and she did not know what to do.

“Chiss are all blue. She’s a human color.” said one of the other two.

Rey dared to look through a gap in her fingers. The Sluissi was in front of her, leaning far, far forward and supporting itself with its hands slapped on the ground. It had dry reptile skin and long flaps growing out of the back of its head like heavy lizard spines. She stared at them helplessly. A nice green color that she liked. Something kicked her shoulder. Rey screeched and slapped her good hand over the hurt shoulder.

A Dug was grinning and glaring at her with its toes curling in mad delight. Dugs were more foreign to her than even Sluissi were; their long, muscly hands that they stood on and weasely little legs that they used for hands were a backwards manipulation of all the sentients she knew. The dug child looked like a rat with its limbs all stretched out and wrong. She watched dumbly as the right hand it stood on came up and “kicked” her in the shoulder a little softer.

“You have really soft skin. Squishy weirdo,” laughed the Dug. Its face was ratlike but furless, and tiny strips of what looked like dead skin dragged on its earlobes. “You’re gonna burn up and turn into a wrinkly old grandmother, I bet. Sun’s not good for softies.”

“Where are you from?” said the Sluissi. “Your name?”

Rey said her name was Rey. Then she coughed. “I’m thirsty.”

“Hm. Me, too.” said the Sluissi. “There’s not much water here, though, so that’s too bad.”

“D-do you guys know where the ships are? I, um. I gotta go back there. My ship left without me.”

“Oh,” said the other human child. His hands stuck out from thin, dragging sleeves and his eyes and nose showed through a head covering, and the rest of him was buried in the grey and inscrutable clothing. When he proved unwilling to give any more words, Rey ignored him.

“I, I got left here on accident. I gotta go home.”

“I bet it’s no accident if Unkar brought you in,” the Dug said with great confidence. He even added, “Unkar doesn’t do accidents when it comes to new kid scavengers. If he got you, you’re gonna be down in the dirt with us now! Sucks to be you.”

The Sluissi was laying down now. “Now our team has four cleaners. That’ll be better than three cleaners. And we can dig a lot. Can you dig?”

“I wanna go home.”

“You can’t. You’re gonna dig now. Or clean.”

Rey’s grip on her arm grew tighter and she told the Sluissi to shut up. Inside, she told herself the same thing, because believing the snaky sentient would be a dumb thing to do, because it was a kid like her and kids didn’t decide when ships traveled or came back. Grown-ups could make it come back. She couldn’t make any of this come out of her mouth. Parts of it came out in sobs. The Sluissi seemed to be waiting out her crying, but it didn’t stop, so it retreated.

The Dug slapped the floor with its left hand. “I just realized! Your stupid hair! Your hair looks like three poops on your head, ahaahaha!”

With her eyes dribbling tears, Rey reached up and covered one her buns with her hand. “Stop it. You better stop it.”

“You can’t tell a Dug to stop being mean.” said the Sluissi, unblinking. “Don’t you know anything?”

“She doesn’t know jack-oh!” screeched the Dug. “She’s dumb enough to think she can just leave if she wants! HA! My pop would slap you one if he was here.”

“Can you dig?” asked the Sluissi, blinking. “You better be good at it or Unkar won’t give you portions. It’s a fact.”

“Your hair does look like three poops,” said the boy in grey. He still crouched in the corner with his hands clasped over his knees, hardly moving. “If my hair was long, I sure wouldn’t do it up like that.”

“It’s not!” she screeched, and more sobs came unexpectedly, jaggedly out of her like a belch. “I-It’s not! My hair’s not poop! Shut u-up!”

There was a rock on the ground, or a clod of dirt or sand—Rey did not remember—but she grabbed it from between a few folds of tarp and threw it at the boy. He ducked his head farther into his knees and flinched dramatically when it hit. The dug laughed, the Sluissi quietly stared, and Rey continued crying.

She cried in spurts for an hour while the dug talked to himself and banged his hand-feet on the walls and yelled and pretended he was playing drums in a famous band. The hard metal echoes were louder than Rey’s crying. She remembered his drumming and awful not-music noise more than anything else.

She remembered the door tearing open and the Sluissi child was in the way. Quicker than lightning she moved from the floor to the wall and the slam of her green body’s impact was as loud as the dug’s drumming. Rey and the dug yelled together.

It was another grown-up, big and fat like Mr. Plutt, but none of the children knew a Barabel on sight. It was humanoid-shaped and reptilian-skinned and all but the Sluissi recoiled from it.

“Whichever one of you was making that stupid shit noise can quiet the fuck down!” it screamed, and all of Rey’s limbs curled in toward herself. “Out! Portion and work time. If you guys pull that again after lights out I’ll come back in here and step on all of you.”

“Portions and work, nice, nice, nice!” the dug screamed and clapped his little hanging feet together. “Outside! Let’s go, losers!”

He closed the short distance to Rey in the corner and pulled on her arm with his feet. “Move it or else, loser, let’s go!”

The Sluissi had already slithered out the door, under the Barabel’s giant shadow and out of sight. The boy in grey was getting up off the floor. Rey saw neither of these things with her head pushed into the crook of her elbow. She stood up this way and let the dug pull her out the door and back into the heat and the sun with its huge weight. When the dug child let go of her, she stumbled and fell into the sand. Something scraped her leg and tore through her pants. Something dropped a hard, pointy ball on her. Her breath and a high-pitched cry were slammed out of her throat.

“Get in the shade there and clean it till it looks new.” said the barabel. He produced a rag the color of old eggs and dropped it near where Rey’s face lay in the sand. “If you can’t do it, ask Mopsy.”

As he spoke, Rey spat sand out of her mouth and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Snot and sand had smeared her nostrils and upper lip. When her head was raised and she remembered to ask this new adult if he knew where the ships were, he was already laughing. His laugh was louder than her own voice.

“Clean your face and get in there.”

“Okay.”

Her fingers found the rag and clutched it. Her palms and fingertips felt the dampness in it, and it had a funny smell attached that was unlike cleaning supplies or soap. The shade the strange reptilian man had mentioned wasn’t far away, and all the other kids were sitting in it already, spread out under a flat cloth roof held up by six poles in the ground. Grey metallic things lay scattered around them and they all were rubbing at them with old-egg-colored cloths.

Ringing the children’s tent on all sides were the masses of tents and sheds in a short spectrum of metallic and dead-plant colors. All the structures rose higher than Rey’s head, and the borders of Niima were far beyond her line of sight. She would never find the shipyard by herself. A grownup would have to take her there. And it was so hot, she wanted to cry. Even as she stared around at the tents and the other kids not far in front of her, she was sweating and the back of her neck especially was burning already. Nowhere was ever supposed to be this awful hot. She walked ahead into the shade. Without the sun in her eyes, the shapes of them came into focus. They were all bent over metal things.

The boy in grey was closest to her. He picked up a fraction of a speeder battery and plopped it in front of Rey’s feet. “You can do that one,” he said. And then he ignored her.

“Are we ever gonna go to the ships?” Rey asked.

None of them answered her. Somewhere ahead, two more barabels were growling at each other, spinning heavy chain links in their hands. The ends of them were spiked and tipped with scars of rust and dark blood. The sight of sharp and big weapons made her want to be quiet and look away. Once she sat down, most of the view of them was obscured by the pile of metal things that needed cleaning. It was the scrap pile. Rey didn’t know enough of it at the time to shiver or shrivel away from it.

One last time: “Please, you guys. I’m s’posed to go home.”

The dug grabbed sand in his little left foot and threw it at her. “Shut up and help or I’m gonna eat your portions.”

Rey picked up the rag and felt the smelly cleaning fluid sweating through the cloth and onto her palm. The battery piece had come away in an explosion and it was more charred than not. No grace wires left, three of the four safety lights cracked or broken. The durasteel frame of it was too small to be repurposed for anything more than a container for tools or food. All of this would come to her, later. Rey picked a spot that was covered in char marks and rubbed the cloth on it. She worked.

End “snippet.”

#Star Wars #fanfiction #Rey #Reylo #Because Kylo Ren sees her whole life in excruciating detail like a camerman who can't leave and he cries #The Sun on Jakku

1 note · View note

maychorian · 7 years ago

Text

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #30

Officially no longer a youngster. Get a job and get out of your parents’ basement, “weekly” rec list, for pete’s sake. Get it together.

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

A Lonely Mind by Bandity Words: 11,292 (WIP 1/2) Author’s Summary: Lance struggles with depression, choosing to hide his problems, he starts down a dangerous road alone. My Comments: I think I kinda freaked the author by leaving a RIDICULOUSLY long comment on this one. Go read that for my expanded thoughts. But yeah, fave of the list. You remember that post going around not long ago about how healing pods are scary? This fic takes that concept in a FABULOUS direction, and I love it to death.

Starve the Ego, Feed the Soul by Agapostemon Words: 1,595 Author's Summary: “So you want me to spy for you,” Keith observes blandly. “Exactly!” Hunk nods, “Oh, and keep an eye out for food stashes. I wanna know where all my ingredients are going. ”Keith sighs, “Fine, whatever. I’ll spy for you. But only because he’s my brother and I care about him.” My Comments: Really sweet and heart-achey exploration of Keith and Shiro’s relationship, through the scenario of Shiro hoarding food in his room.

Pizza, Pasta and some comfort by SerenePhenix Words: 4,405 Author's Summary: I love taylor_tut’s sickfics to death but the one that really stuck with me was the one about the college AU where Lance appeared on the gang’s doorstep and they all were like “let’s take care of this sick stranger”.I really couldn’t help myself… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Getting Lance to stop before he can collapse Shiro wonders what can be done to help the poor guy. Besides making sure that his temperature doesn't go through the roof... My Comments: Not long ago, I recced “The Pizza One” as my favorite taylor_tut fic, and here’s a nice long sequel! I love it almost as much as everyone in the fic loves Lance.

Food for Thought by WildWolf25 Words: 9,094 Author's Summary: After a very uncomfortable breakfast his first morning in the Castle of Lions, Ulaz learns that Galra and Earthlings (and Alteans) have some very prominent cultural differences, specifically relating to food. Once they get some misunderstandings cleared up, though, Lance gets a certain idea... My Comments: Crack alert! This is delightful. Gen, but technically NSFW for...reasons. Just read it, if you’re of age.

Stretch the Day by Stratagem Words: 886 Author's Summary: Lance and Hunk hang out with their siblings at a lake and have a nice day where nothing bad happens. Really! My Comments: I’m actually reccing every fic in this series, Voltron Space Family, this one just happened to come up first in my AO3 history because I read it the most recently. But yeah, you should consume everything. This author is SUPER good at child mannerisms, as well character interaction and feels. There’s a story where Shiro is rescued after the end of Season 2 by a misfit band of space pirates including one Matt Holt, and another where the Galra kidnap Lance and Hunk’s siblings, which is heart-rending. Very, very good stuff. I’ll be following this author with eager anticipation.

Distance by nawsies Words: 1,381 Author's Summary: Pidge misses her Mum so much and most of the time she refuses to think about it, Lance is in the right place at the right time and wants to help his friend (he helps). My Comments: Sweet, achey, homesick Lance and Pidge. Beautiful little fic.

Mermaid Rescue and Rehab Inc. by isabeau25 Words: 1,064 Author's Summary: Sadly, this isn’t the strangest phone call Pidge has ever gotten from Lance. The mermaid is new though. My Comments: MERBABY SHIRO RESCUED BY THE GARRISON TRIO. If that doesn’t make you want to read it I don’t know what will. Just go. It’s great.

Voltron Hug Collection by hufflepirate Words: 12,761 Author's Summary: 15 microfics, minifics, or oneshots featuring Voltron hugs. These were written based on tumblr prompts (plus 2) and to get me through finals week. Every chapter involves at least one hug, all hugs are platonic, and chapter titles will tell you the people involved and some idea of the plot or prompt, so keep an eye out for those. My Comments: I’ve been reblogging these fics in their tumblr post form, because they are all amazing, but if you missed any, here they are all handily collected for your convenience! I intend to comment on every single chapter, just haven’t gotten to it yet.

Lionhearted by Pidgeon_Online Words: 9,539 Author's Summary: It's a struggle for everyone. They're struggling to stay afloat in the sea of stress and anxiety.And Pidge accidentally tipped the boat.or Pidge gets sick and everyone helps while trying to juggle their own problems. My Comments: Sick Pidge with bonus angsty Lance and supportive everyone else. A pleasure to read. One Day at a Time by dem_hips Words: 2,818 Author's Summary: Being away from home at school is a little different from being away from home defending the universe, as it turns out. My Comments: Kind, supportive Garrison Trio. They’re all so very far away from home. Another fic where Pidge and Lance level up their friendship. I love it.

Caught in the Rain by WildWolf25 Words: 3,611 Author's Summary: “Hi, um, do you need help with your… robot car?”Pidge looked up to find a man looking down in bemusement at them. His black hair was cropped close to his head, shorter at the undercut and only slightly longer on top, save for a white-dyed tuft that fell over his forehead. “It’s a rendition of the Mars Rover, but ‘robot car’ works too.” Pidge said. “And I’m okay, I just need to dry it off. My teammates are delayed, so I just need somewhere out of the rain to wait for them. Sorry about using your awning.” (While waiting for their robotics club members, Pidge gets caught in the rain and takes refuge in the lobby of an onsen, where they meet Shiro) My Comments: This is such a warm, gentle, relaxing fic, much like I imagine an onsen visit to be. Love this modern version of Pidge and Shiro, with Lance being a disaster and Hunk being a suspicious mechanic, as it should be.

Heathens by TheCookieMonster77 Words: 8,785 Author's Summary: "You…"Keith looked completely bewildered and lost at Lance's outburst and Lance thought that that was probably the worst part of all of this. The heathen didn't even realize his error.Keith's face looked startlingly close to a kicked puppy. "What did I do?""I- You-" Lance let out a muffled shriek shout of irritation. "You," he growled, jaw clenched and teeth grinding, "just asked for pineapple. On pizza."What. An. Out. Rage.Keith blinked. "...Yes?"Hunk is an amazing angel (like always) who figured out how to make space pizza. Lance was ready to sing his praises to the universe, but then his teammates have to go ruin everything by insisting on pineapple pizza.Heathens. My Comments: Very fun and funny fic! I loved everyone’s different reactions.

A (Space) Mother's Work is Never Done by BajillionKittens Words: 2,851 (WIP 3/?) Author's Summary: A Mother's Day celebration for the team mom. Six times Coran took care of his kids and one time they returned the favor. My Comments: SO CUTE. I love the way Coran takes care of all of these children he’s suddenly stuck with. The different scenarios are all very good and fitting, and I’m looking forward to more.

Little Drops of Poison by Saereneth for BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 2,607 Author's Summary: Shiro had been trying to catch up to them, clawing his way through years of separation just to feel like he was part of them once more, but sometimes it was just too much, and he had to excuse himself for a while so he could come to grips with everything he’d missed. My Comments: @bosstoaster‘s Ten Years On AU bothers me on a very visceral level that I have trouble articulating, but this little exploration in the sandbox is lovely. I love Pidge unable to stick with her original concept and expanding into thing she finds interesting or just pretty, and the way Lance notices Shiro spiraling and subtly grounds him without being flashy is really lovely characterization. Very believable development of both of them, and Shiro is heartbreaking as always, but everyone’s going to take care of him.

Be Water, My Friend by xLoLix Words: 8,531 Author's Summary: So there are the quieter moments between missions, between exciting events, between the moments that matter. (The real secret are that those are the moments that matter the most.)Here are some moments between the paladins, starring Lance.Or; I air out some of my general grievances and de-stress from school by writing a fic about my favourite character. My Comments: Really lovely exploration of Lance and his relationships. I enjoyed it.

Finding Family by squirenonny Words: 17,214 Author's Summary: A collection of drabbles that don't fit neatly into the main Duality plotline. Most can be read independently of the main story, though each entry contains a note on where it fits in the timeline.Written based on prompts from readers. My Comments: Some mild Klance and Shatt. Every single of one of these is delightful. You should just read everything this author writes. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

As Color Fades Away by IcyPanther Truce by kyanve The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl by MagmaWrites The Color Of Our Planet From Far Far Away by LonelyGirlInSpace Someplace Like Home by squirenonny (THE GANG IS BACK TOGETHER) Secret of the Blood by exclamation (now complete) Garrison Days by castlestormed Towards The Sun by Eastofthemoon The Machinations of Perception by HapaxLegomenon Must Surely Be Learning by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) (now complete) The Garden of Heaven by Genesister (papirini) (now complete) Love and Other Questions by squirenonny The Size Of Our Actions by buttered_onions Scattered by avidbeader A Dream Away by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Stardust, Silk and Steel by CalicoTomcat Shifting Sands by Cardigan_Quincy

#voltron legendary defender #weekly voltron fic recs #fic rec #the fandom is slowing down a little on the fic output #theoretically that should give me more time to write #instead i seem to just reread my favorite fics #vldgen

153 notes · View notes