#unnamed cryo fic

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 15 "Herr God, Beware"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 3k

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments on the last chapter in particular. It was my favorite out of the entire fic 🥺🥺 And now, just some smut before we enter the finale (3 more chapters) 🥹

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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Feyd-Rautha's strong hand clutches the wrist of his giggling, ticking time bomb as he herds her down the hollow hallway, back to her own chambers. Blackened water still dribbles down the thick curve of his pale calves and his feet leave wet imprints on the tiles. A black bathrobe clings damply to his shoulders, fabric curling around the salacious shape of his muscles.

Lilia quickly vacates her Lady's quarters and closes the door, Glugo at her hand, when the half undressed na-Baron and his beloved rush past her into the bedroom in a hurry.

His darling had wanted to have him right there in his tub. He had to stop her, rising out of the diluted healing concoction dripping wet. For their first time as proper betrotheds, he doesn't want to be submerged in claustrophobic bath water. He has a special place in mind, one that has her eyes growing round when she realizes that Feyd-Rautha does not intend to fuck her on the bed.

"Feyd! It's meant for cryo sleep, not for—"

"Open the lid, my darling, please."

Desire claws at his belly and a near perverse delight floods him when his fiancée obeys. Her pupils give a telltale flicker to the side and the top of the Sarcophagus swings open by her invisible command.

"What are you doing?" She giggles, her voice still high-pitched from the afternoon's victory.

Feyd-Rautha lets the bath robe drop to the floor and her eyes fall from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and the muscles of his glutes that flex beneath his fair skin when he raises one long leg and climbs into the man-shaped mold that had sheltered his darling during her long journey between the stars.

"I want you to have me in here."

His semi-hard cock falls against his navel as he sinks down. The gel padding of the mold is surprisingly soft, cool to the touch but quickly warming up to his damp skin. The surrounding walls are lined with tubes like blood vessels and the chamber hugs him like he was transferred back into the womb.

"It's designed for one person," she scolds, but her hands are already at her waist, sliding under the hem of her trousers.

"And your trousers are designed for men, yet you are wearing them." Feyd-Rautha lets one corded arm dangle out of the sarcophagus, beckoning his betrothed closer with a curl of his hand. "Come here," he purrs. "Sit in my lap."

"You dare lecture me on my clothing when I've just discovered—?" Her trousers and boots are kicked to the floor with ferocity and when she climbs into the mold to him, Feyd's cock swells to full hardness without even a touch. His woman's eyes flash with the kind of indignance that he had hoped to spark.

His pelvis leaves just enough space on each side of the chamber for her to slot her folded legs, though it is a tight fit. Feyd-Rautha's hard flanks warm her knees and she frees her torso from the cover of her tunic with a swift curl of her arms that has her chest popping out and her breasts lifting as she stretches her arms high. The garment tumbles to the floor and Feyd-Rautha's hands are immediately at her hips and belly.

When she meets his gaze and lets the apex of her thighs sink down on his pelvis, feeling the soft squishiness of his balls against her cunt, she realizes the true nature of Feyd's provocation. While her eyes are glaring with fire, his are glossy and wanton like the deep-blue oceans of her old home.

The hand with which she intends to aim the gun at the Baron slides over Feyd-Rautha's warm chest, where his heart beats, and he makes no move to overpower her or coax her into action, just holding her expectantly to his straining manhood. She lowers her voice, wild giggles replaced by a sultriness that comes from the overflowing well of her earlier victory. 

"Is that what you desire right now?" She coos, eyes gliding proudly over the hard, masculine body that lies so docile beneath her. He has been vulnerable with her before, when he needed her touch to keep himself from drowning, but never like this. Not with his pretty mouth open and his blue eyes rendered so dark with lust, like he's going to come apart willingly at a fleeting touch of her hand.

His submission is not an escape tonight, it is triumphant.

Feyd-Rautha nods and his tongue darts out briefly to wet his pink bottom lip. She eclipses the light of the golden glow globe and he readily cranes his head for her trailing hand, moaning when her fingers encircle his throat. The thick tendons that stretch from base to jaw strain against her palms, yielding under pressure, because despite how hard he looks, Feyd-Rautha is made of soft flesh, like anyone else.

As he gazes up admiringly, he briefly wonders how old his betrothed actually is. He's never asked her, but she glances down at him with a wisdom and confidence that melt his bones. Willingly, his knees fall apart against the walls of the man-sized cavern.

She's going to make it alright. She's going to cure his rot.

"Can you ask me again?" He demands pleadingly, his voice a low rasp that vibrates against the palm of her hand.

"Ask you what?" Her thumb brushes over the sharp tip of his Adam's Apple. It is cute, the way it jumps away from her touch, like a frightened animal.

"To be your husband."

"But you already said yes," she purrs and makes sure that he feels the weight of her against his pelvis. With the way she's seated on him, her clit comes to rub against his smooth pubic mound as she leans forward a little.

"But I want to say it again," Feyd-Rautha confesses. A part of him yearns for her to ask him again every new day, so he knows she hasn't changed her mind.

"How about you ask me now?" At that, her betrothed's strong fingers twitch around the soft flesh of her hips.

"Will you be my wife, my darling? Will you honor and serve me til death do us part?" His pupils fill out the blue pools of his irises with comical dilation and a heavy inhale raises his chest a bit closer to her breasts.

"Is that how Harkonnens ask for the hand of their Lady?"

"You need to say yes," Feyd-Rautha snarls with a pleading darkness gathering behind his eyes.

"I will, if you ask me right." Her cheeks are rounded in a coy grin, infuriatingly disregarding the distress that pounds against Feyd's ribs. His hold on her tightens and so does hers around his pale throat. At the possessive touch of him, her cunt provides moisture that flows across Feyd-Rautha's sac.

"Will you be my wife and let me honor and serve you til death do us part?"

She laughs brightly and the flexing of her muscles brings the cradle of her thighs against his pelvis in an involuntary jerk. When her betrothed moans, she repeats the same motion, this time deliberately, and leans down to his face, nestling it within her palms.

"I was thinking more of loving and caring for each other til death do us part, but I suppose honoring and serving works too, as long as we both do it."

"And does that mean yes?"

"Of course it does, silly boy. Yes, I will be your wife. And my wedding gift to you will be death."

He shudders obscenely at the power that lies at their fingertips. The power to not only put an end to his tormentor's regime, but to throw the universe into a new dark age — The universe that had always looked away from his suffering, endorsed it.

"Would you say this is a worthy gift, my love?" His woman purrs lovingly and slowly grinds her sweet, wet cunt against the base of his cock. 

Feyd-Rautha nods, moaning quietly. His hands just lightly aid the rolling of her pelvis that has his cock jump longingly against her abdomen, plump head almost nudging her navel. She feels the velvety hardness of him against her belly and arches her spine to meet the next twitch of his aching length.

"Then so be it."

One hand abandons his neck and embarks on a journey down the length of his smooth, tapered torso.

Feyd is the perfect harmony of strong and vulnerable. Thick muscles wrapped around his chest and shoulders, his thighs powerful and hard, his wiry forearms entwisted by prominent veins that stretch all the way down to his hands, knuckles still dusted in the purple remnants of bruises from the afternoon brawl. 

Yet, there is a graceful felinity to his long limbs and slender core and the way he carries himself, every muscle in a perfect equilibrium of poise. The skin she skims is made soft by lotions and oils, the perfectly delicate cover for the hard swells of his abdominal muscles that flex deliciously in the wake of her fleeting fingertips.

"Woman~" he moans low and sweetly and her gaze falls on the absurd dip of his cupid's bow and the plump curve that defines his bottom lip.

"Yes?" Her fingertips gently dance around his twitching length, indulging his abdomen in ticklish caress while avoiding the place where he aches all over.

"Please." Feyd's pelvis rolls up against her cunt, bare feet seeking purchase against the odd, cushioned floor of the sarcophagus.

To Feyd-Rautha, tonight is a night of self-indulgent weakness. He has grown long tired of living behind the guards of violent defense that he has erected around himself, sick of the impotent fear and rage his uncle has cultivated in his misshapen boy heart.

Perhaps Feyd would have been able to kill the Baron without her. But an animal may not be able to free itself from its cage, even when the key in the lock is turned. It may just need someone to push the handle and open the gate.

His darling may be diabolical for the knowledge she has unlocked with the aid of the machine that calmly hums beneath his back, but she is not diabolical to him. One sweet plea from his lips has her lifting her pelvis and his cock readily jumps against the folds of her cunt.

Another day, his hand would have been around the thick base of his cock to angle himself into her entrance, but tonight he waits for her smaller hand to guide him. The briefest of touch has his mouth open and his neck strained in anticipation, and then the wet heat of her meets his weeping slit.

"Oof~" A little sound escapes her lungs when the blunt tip of him spears her open wide, generously slick but otherwise unprepared. She holds herself there, fingers twisted into the skin of his tensing stomach. Feyd-Rautha waits with agonizing patience as the head of his cock is veritably crushed by her tight walls.

He is so absurdly sensitive, the impossibly slow descent of her pelvis has him hissing through his teeth.

"God, what did they, agh, feed you to make you grow to this size?"

Feyd-Rautha lets out a burst of boyish laughter, then curses to the Sun in Harkunnin  before he can tell her that, if not genetics, it could have only been the extraordinarily carnivorous diet he had enjoyed as a boy. She raises herself and the slow glide of her cunt massages the aching inches of his cock.

His voice grows guttural and deliciously pathetic as she establishes a slow, rolling pace, aided only gently by the push and pull of his hands. He feels truly cocooned in the way her walls wrap around his cock and her soft hands on his chest press him down into the cushioned gel pads.

The moisture from the bath has long dried on his skin and what dampens it now is a warm flush of arousal. Blue eyes are glued to the movement of her flesh, trailing over her tummy and breasts before meeting the calm, simmering confidence in her eyes. Her torso folds itself halfway over his chest, one hand propped against the gel cushion next to his head, the other cupping his flexing jaws.

"My baby just needs someone to take care of him, isn't that right?"

Feyd-Rautha's brows twitch briefly at the unfamiliar moniker, but its meaning is clear and his pelvis shudders against his will. A deep, sweet desire blossoms at the base of his spine, waiting to be spilled.

"My baby boy has been so lonely all his life, but I'm here now. I'm taking care of you."

He wants to be something for someone, something of value, something precious, something coveted and even vulnerable. For once in his life, someone is standing up for him and Feyd falls head first into the white-hot ignition of love that pulses at his core and reaches so quickly into his balls and the root of his cock.

"Yeeesss," he moans, brows scrunching together tightly. The steady rocking of his beloved's hips milks him dry of his cum and his lungs wheeze in breathless huffs. Tears prick at his eyes below closed lids.

"My darling," she sighs, her voice a shiver that flows across his face along with her hot breath, so close, so sweet.

"More," he demands even though his empty cock begins to burn from the deep rhythm that fills her out from entrance to navel. Feyd-Rautha's strong fingers cling needily to her hips and she grins upon his request, straightening herself. A bead of sweat dribbles down between her breasts.

"Then be good and help me, yes?"

His thumb is on her bundle of nerves before she can even finish her sentence, blue eyes wickedly gleaming with determination. It is the least he can do to reward her for being an angel sent to him across space and time. 

Her pelvis rolls back and forth, meeting the perfectly placed pressure of the pad of his thumb. Even with him half flaccid, she still feels deliciously full, and the gravelly moans she pulls from his throat sinfully aid the approach of her climax, a tightening pressure against the base of her spine that seems to be pulling every muscle inwards to her core.

In their wake, they make a mess all over his lap and balls, inky seed marking them both in sticky trails.

Where another man might struggle, Feyd-Rautha has little trouble growing hard again from having his future wife around his overstimulated cock. The pleasure-pain of it makes him sink his teeth into his plush bottom lip and his fingers into her waist, taking back a smidge of control. His shaft twitches against her tender walls.

"Just like thi-is, ahh, Feyd—!" Her toes curl against the outsides of his thighs.

"Almost there, sweetling," he promises, positioning his soles safely against the cushioned ground and then pistons up into her cunt. The force and stamina behind his thrusts is effortless, splitting her poise. Her torso falls against his, breasts flattened against the hard planes of his chest, lips finding his.

Feyd-Rautha drinks up his to-be wife's needy whines like wine from a chalice, wraps one strong arm around her middle while his thumb remains on her swollen, little clit. His cock does the rest, rhythm powered by his thick thighs, he slams himself into her slick cunt.

Moments away from climax, her tongue squirms against his and her pelvis tries to escape from his hold, the first tendrils of white-hot pleasure so overwhelming that her first reaction is flight. But Feyd-Rautha's grip screws itself tight around her waist and the next, perfect circle of his thumb has her coming apart on his cock, drool slipping into his open mouth, in glistening rivulets down his black teeth.

Feyd gives himself to the sweet strangulation of her cunt, shuddering from each burst of seed that is wrenched from his balls. Each clench of their combined release sparks like a bang of fireworks, a rumble that shakes the fundament of the universe.

Their bodies grow still aside from their lungs' heaving and Feyd-Rautha's cheeks are dusted in a blush, lids drooping low as he lets his big hands wander over the curves of her body in blissful delirium. When his hand arrives in her nape, their lips meet again for a slow dance in the afterglow of their release — lazy, sloppy kisses and slow grinding of their hips while sweat cools on their flesh.

A silly thought tugs on the strings of his drowsy mind. If he fell asleep right here and she closed the lid of her sarcophagus over him, he could time travel to a world where the Baron is already dead and burned. He has not a doubt in his heart that she will make it happen.

With a sweet sigh, his darling straightens herself, fingertips lingering on his belly as she admires him from above. Golden glowglobe light spills from the crown of her head down her shoulders like a bridal veil, like a ruler's cape. Feyd-Rautha's hand moves up her sternum and cups her warm cheek. Her lashes flutter shut and she exhales slowly, and by the time she casts them open again, her gaze has sharpened itself to the tip of a spear.

She was an unshaped piece of wood, pulled out of the grave, then carved into a lumpy shape by the Bene Gesserit and set on the board, a wildcard pawn with promising genes, ready to play.

Now, she is about to shatter the chessboard with a fractal hammer, because now she has a reason. 

For him. For her new kin. And out of rage. And for freedom.

The Bene Gesserit didn't just open a relic from space. What they did is unleash an invasive species from a time capsule into a delicately stable ecosystem, and she intends to unravel it like a tumor from within.

Ash, ash — You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the [ice] I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

   - Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

A/N: Because I'm an asshole, I will say the following: Two characters will die in the next chapter, and one of them you're looking forward to. Give me your best guesses 😌✨ If anyone guesses correctly, I'll eat my own arm.

FEYD TAG LIST

@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen

@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted, @sunny747

@ughdontbeboring, @meetmeatyourworst, @gravesdiggergirl

[gyokujyn]

WIP Game ♡

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence / excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Tagged by @amaraangelicus

My word was COMFY and, ironically, none of these snippets are terribly comfortable.

Under this cut, you are going to find slurs, gore, violence, sexualised violence, implied sexual assault, antisemitism (there are Nazis), and implied torture. I write difficult, dark subject matter, particularly exploring self-hatred and grief. Please take care of yourself and proceed with caution.

C - As-yet unnamed Bucky-centric Wakanda recovery fic

“Cause I didn't expect to be able to dream,” he said finally.

“In the stasis tube?” Shuri clarified and he nodded, shrugged, shrank in on himself.

“With HYDRA, I felt like I was dreaming all the time.  Like a waking nightmare.  I couldn't string my memories together in a coherent line.  People or places would come to me, but I couldn't remember why they were important or how they were connected.  The only thing that mattered was right now, the only thing I could keep a grip on was what was right in front of me.  Then, they'd shove me back in the ice and there was nothing.  I would close my eyes and when I opened them, the nightmare was back, like no time had passed at all, and they'd burn out whatever I could put together and start over.  But, I never really…. I don't really remember sleeping under HYDRA.  Just mission after mission, and in-between them, cryo like the blink of an eye.  I think they knew that sleep healed me because there were times I was kept out so long, my body'd start shutting down.  The drugs wouldn't keep me up forever; even super soldiers breakdown at some point.  And, when I slept, I remembered.  So, instead they would shove me into cryo as soon as they could and shut me down like flipping a light switch.”

“Their cryogenic process was barbaric, just freezing you like meat.  Our stasis tubes put your cells in a state of regenerative hibernation, but, even so, the only times I have heard of patients dreaming is those who have taken of the heart shaped herb." She hopped down off the bed and paced for a moment, the way he'd learned meant she was working out a problem. She tipped her head side to side, eyes on the ceiling, then looked back to him, "Perhaps, some part of your enhancement is close enough to my brother's that you also visited your ancestors."  A sudden seriousness, so unlike the princess, overtook her and she narrowed her eyes at him. "What was it like?”

He thought back to twilight in Brooklyn, feet dangling from a fire escape, a face in every window of the alley, and more stars overhead than he'd ever seen before coming to Wakanda.  The scent of his mother's perfume is already fading in his sense memory when he replies, “It felt real.”

O - As-yet unnamed Bucky!Cap WinterBaron fic set in WW2

On the air is the thick smell of smoke.  Bucky’s in the dancehall in Brooklyn with the ugly, fake Roman arches around the stage, but he’s in the back by the bar.  And he’s draped over a barstool next to Sandra Singer with her honey brown eyes and fingernails purple like a bruise.  She’s smoking the Marlboros he started buying to pick up dames and he’s digging his fingers to the knuckle into her curled hair while he licks the taste out of her mouth.  They’re hot and heavy in the alley by the butcher’s and the smoker must be working overtime because it’s cloying and her laughter sounds like shouting as he buries himself in the nape of her neck, hot and suffocating as she presses him against the brick.  He licks a line along her throat and coughs out dirt and ash as he pushes himself up out of the wreckage.

On the air is the thick smell of smoke.  Bucky’s in the rubble of the factory in Kreichsberg and he’s buried under crumbled concrete at the edge of the building when he comes to.  He’s propped up on his arms, both dirt stained and black with soot.  His mouth tastes like the inside of an ashtray, every shallow breath like embers, but he can’t worry about the taste right now because he can barely breathe. He’s gasping like a fish on the rocks at Coney Island in the summer, but there’s something in his throat and gasping gives way to wretching and suddenly he’s coughing up the rest of the ashes out of his lungs, along with what appears to be most of the lining of his throat and lungs.  He can still hear the shouting nearby, but it’s not close enough to worry about, yet, not when he finds himself staring at parts of him he’s sure should remain inside and it’s another long moment before he can wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and gather himself enough to stand.  Dragging his feet up towards his chest, he pushes himself up miserably, skin feeling sharp and bright beneath the layer of grime he’d accumulated.  The first landmark he spots is at the top of the last wall standing.  It’s that useless door he’d been inching his way towards when everything went to hell and he realized at that moment that he’s a good 200-feet from where he had expected to die on the opposite end of the factory.  That backdraft was a bitch.

M - As-yet unnamed Bucky/Peggy fic where they hatefuck in their grief over losing Steve at Kreichsberg THIS BIT IS EXPLICITLY LEADING UP TO A RAPE SCENE AND SHOULD BE READ WITH CAUTION

Mangled clicking sounds cut through the quiet of the room as she struggles to choke out his name.  She’s shredding the skin of his hand with her nails, tears falling down her cheeks and stinging in the wounds, but he just shakes her a bit by the throat, like a wolf worrying its prey.

As suddenly as it had begun, the fight leaves him and his grip on her loosens.  She gasps, gulping in air desperately, coughing and gagging as he falls to his knees at her feet.  He's shaking, hands and arms wrapped around her calves.  She stares down at him in horror, panting, scared to move and trigger another attack.

“Did you fuck him in the end?”

She blinks slowly, her voice wrecked when she finally croaks, “what?”

Bucky looks up at her, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, “You heard me.  Did you fuck him?” He repeats, moving his hands up her legs, wrapping the hem of her skirt in his fist and pushing it up her thigh, “Will I taste him on you?”

F - As-yet unnamed Stucky/Steggy law enforcement AU with felon!Bucky, LEO!Steve, DA!Peggy

For a moment, Bucky was taken off guard, his shock written clearly across his features in the face of Steve’s aggression and it should have settled something in Steve, but it only stoked it.  Bucky let his face melt into a smirk, his voice pitched low, just for Steve.  “Blue is my color.”

“Yeah,” Steve growled, hissing right in Bucky’s face, teeth bared.  “Really brings out the convicted felon in your eyes.”

But, Bucky saw the opportunity for what it was and he wasn’t letting it go.  He leaned forward into Steve’s space, running his hands up Steve’s thighs slowly, “Oh, Steve, c’mon, do you even try not to think of me when you’re fucking her?  Or, do you put her on her belly with her ass up and shove her face into the pillow, huh?  So you don’t have to look at her or hear that whiny fucking voice when you’re–”  Steve’s knuckles connect with a dull thud, barely audible over the clattering of Bucky’s chair toppling over.  The first time shuts him up, the second puts him on the floor along with a spray of fresh blood from his broken nose.  Steve’s snarling and panting, raised fist poised to go again, but he contains it.  He breathes through it.

Y - As-yet unnamed (is this sounding familiar yet?) Bucky-centric fic, this scene is during his first capture by Hydra, when he is first selected for Zola's program.

“You are a Jew?” the interrogator asks him.  It’s a simple question and Bucky doesn’t want to respond.  His jaw trembles open and shut as the fresh tears track down his muddied cheeks.

“Barnes,” he starts, finally, “James Buchanan.  Sergeant–” and the soldier in front of him just nods slowly.

“You are a Jew.”  It’s no longer a question and the soldier begins barking orders to the guards who have stopped stringing him up.

“Wait,” Bucky jumps in as they unbind his hands, but it’s all happening so quickly, now.  They drop him unceremoniously on the floor.  His pants are still around his thighs and he fumbles to pull them back up, his stomach lurching, “No, wait, look at my tags.”  They’re not even listening to him, and he knows this, but he can’t stop the words bubbling out of him as his numb fingers clumsily wrestle with the buttons of his trousers, “My tags say I’m Catholic!”  The guards ignore him, hauling him up by his armpits and dragging him towards the door.  His voice rises frantically as he pulls back against them, pulling out his dog tags as evidence, “Look at my tags!  Look!”

The interrogator is calm as he grabs him by the face, his long fingers digging into Bucky’s jaw as his hand covers his mouth like a mask, “I understand, Sergeant.  Barnes, James Buchanan.  You are not only a Jew, but also a coward,” his gut wrenches again with the truth of it.  At least he’d stopped crying. “Nevertheless, you may prove useful to us, yet.”

no pressure tags: @katie-delaney and @blackwood4stucky

Katie, your word is LUSTY

Aspen, your word is TWIST

If anybody else wants to join in, try the word STORY

[karanseraph]

I just needed a throw-away line

But I guess I gotta world-build Polyhex now, even though no one goes there for chapters. I need the unnamed stronghold to be named and to know what the closest place to recreate after installing hardware there would be.

Some of this will be headcanon for me to use in a fic, but it's mostly based on various canon (thanks @tfwiki ) which I blend and simmer into continuity soup.

Polyhex is a Province. It has a Governor. It also has a number of Barons. They aren't really land-owners, but more like captains of industry, who coincidentally lord over certain cities within Polyhex Province according to where their industry is based. The Province, along with Tagan Heights to its west, forms the northeastern quadrant of Cybertron, and it is north of the Sea of Rust.

(It does not, in this soup continuity, include Darkmount, which is its own separate and quaint, touristy The Village at Darkmount now, south of the Sea of Rust)

Some of the cities associated with Polyhex are:

Kaon - Doing its own autonomous enclave thing at the southwest edge of the Province. The Governor does not approve.

New Polyhex City

Polyhex Minor

Dodecahex

Upper Petrohex

Lower Petrohex

The Dead End (in the north, near neighboring Rodion)

Geological features may include:

a canyon

a cliff (some Baron probably has a house on it)

pits

energon crystal fields (farmed)

Sea of Rust coastal sulfur bogs (probably threatened by industry)

Automica sparkfield

The Province, apparently, enjoys sports and/or someone wants to distract the populace:

cube

mecha-soccer

wrestling

gladiatorial combat (of various levels of repute)

Other features and structures:

transport complex Ohm (rail, in this case)

Dodecahex Arena (for all the sports, or future State Games)

a stronghold (above, purple) possibly "The Polydrome"?

fancy offices (above, white) possibly "Whitemount"? At various points in history this has been a temple and/or occult event space and/or nightclub.

fuel/energon refineries

fuel/energon stores

a toll plaza on the Titanium Turnpike

(at some point) time travel?

At least one oil house with a "hex" wordplay name (The Hex & Decimal, The Hex Nut, The Hoary Hexflake?)

(Polyhex does not have a space bridge in this continuity, because we already established it is in neighboring Hydrax to the southeast. And "we don't talk about Spanner".)

Some types of residents:

a Governor

Barons

turbofoxes (more prevalent since mechanimal-rights bots stopped practice of hunting for trophies)

Maximals who just happen to have tall, pointy audio receptors and are tired of getting shot at

"mudflaps" who shoot at anything vaguely turbofox-shaped near their energon farm

big-city bots who call farmers "mudflaps"

in the north, cryo-condors

in the south, rust-foxes/ferrics

in the cities and coast area, retrorats

in country homes, glitch-mice

somewhere, cog-crickets

bats, probably

There's also about 18-ish named characters who may be associated with Polyhex if not definitely from there. I'm wondering how many "Disappeared" names can work as Baron names or if I will need to search for other fancy, named characters to play the roles of Barons. (Not to be confused with any named Senators, who are making a mess of things over in rival region Iacon.)

[izmagicallulu]

I saw this post on @swtorpadawan blog and I decided what the heck!

-

This is from one my fics that is currently unnamed! It’s going to be a fluffy and smut fic.

“Have you had wine before?” Raziela asked as she poured the red liquid into both glasses ``Yes, and I recognized the brand. It’s Alderaaian Red Wine. My favorite.” Raziela passed a glass to Jaesa ``It's my favorite too” She took a sip of the wine and embraced the sweet and sour flavor on her taste buds. ”How did you get your hands on this? It’s very expensive” Raziela looked at Jaesa with a grin “I stole it” she watched as Jaesa’s eyes widened with shock.

“Really?” Jaesa murmured, as Raziela grabbed her chair and put it next to her partner. “No, of course not” Jaesa rolled her eyes and playfully elbows Raziela’s side, as she giggled. “Very funny Raz,” Jaesa said, a little irritated, and Raziela placed a hand on Jaesa’s thigh “Hey, you know I wouldn’t steal from anyone right?” She raises an eyebrow and takes another sip of her wine.

Jaesa rested her hand on top of Raziela’s hand and gently squeezed her hand while letting out a sigh “I love you. You red-haired fool” Raziela smiled warmly and leaned in close to gently kissed Jaesa’s neck “I love you too” she muttered under her breath and grabbed Jaesa’s waist to bring her a little closer. She can feel Jaesa’s body tense up slightly before she can feel her slowly relax.

-

Tagging: @davidoodles @grandninjamasterren @shynmighty @cryo-lily @fatheriimaginedyoutaller @ladytirall @abbee-normal @shabre-legacy

[kaylaxwrites]

unnamed cryo fic - proposal

instead of working on requests like I should i accidently worked on my super long wip. here, have a sample: 

(bucky barnes x reader where reader is a childhood friend of bucky & steve. this part takes place at the world’s fair scene in catfa.)

You tugged on Bucky’s hand, eyes wide as you took in the marvels surrounding you. You drifted from exhibit to exhibit until you noticed the show starting on the mainstage. “Come on, let’s go! It’s starting!” you called. You grabbed Steve’s hand in your free one and dragged him towards the crowd forming at the edge of the stage. You knew Steve wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else—that somewhere being at a recruitment center—but you wanted to make the most of tonight. Who knew when Bucky would be leaving? You wanted to spend as much time as you could with your boys before the war tore you apart.

You elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, arriving just as Howard Stark stepped onto the stage. “What if I told you,” he began, “that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” You watched eagerly as the wheels were removed from the car and Stark adjusted levers on his stand. “With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.

With the push of the button, the car began levitating. “Holy cow,” you heard Bucky breathe behind you.

The amazement didn’t last for long, however, as the car soon came crashing down. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark joked.

You turned to Bucky. “That was incredible!” you said. “Steve, can you believe—” When you moved to face Steve, he wasn’t there. You spun around looking for him, but to no avail. “Where did he go?”

Bucky turned, too, hoping his height would give him an advantage to finding your friend. But he stilled when he caught sight of the brightly lit recruitment poster nearby. “I’ll give you one guess,” he sighed, gesturing towards the pointing Uncle Sam.

“Not again,” you groaned. “Well, let’s go see if we can catch him before he does anything stupid.”

You found Steve staring sadly into the recruitment mirror, his face unable to fill the frame of the cutout soldier in front of him. “Steve,” you called softly and he turned at the sound of your voice. He grimaced, looking ever so much like the kid who got caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could speak, Bucky was cutting him off.

“You really going to do this again?” Bucky asked.

“It’s a fair,” Steve answered. “I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As Steve from Ohio? You’ve tried four times—they’re gonna catch you! Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” You watched the argument swell from behind Bucky’s shoulder. The three of you had had this conversation so many times—Steve was never gonna take no for an answer.

“I know you don’t think I can do this.”

“It’s a war, Steve! Not some back alley fight—”

“I know it is. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”

Steve scoffed. “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

“Sure! Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I’m say—”

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Like you’ve got nothing to prove.”

You stepped forward then, knowing this argument changed nothing. “Please just don’t get caught,” you said, wrapping Steve in a hug. “I’m not going to be the one to bail you out of jail.”

“That won’t happen,” Steve said. “Promise.”

You smiled before turning to Bucky. “C’mon, Sarge, you better take me dancing like you promised.”

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” Bucky called, walking backwards to keep pace with you.

“How can I?” Steve answered. “You’re taking all the stupid with you!”

Bucky grinned and shook his head, stepping forward to hug Steve. “You’re a punk,” he said.

“Jerk,” Steve answered. “Be careful.” Bucky stepped away and took your hand in his. “Don’t win the war until I get there!” Steve called.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “What does he mean? We’re going to see him tomorrow.”

Bucky dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side as the two of you approached the dance hall. “C’mon, I think I hear them playing our song.”

He tried to pull you forward, but you planted your feet. Bucky was not going to brush this one off. “What did Steve mean?” you asked again, fearing you already knew the answer.

“Can we just dance first?” Bucky pleaded. “I had this whole thing planned out—”

“When do you leave?”

Bucky sighed, glancing to the side as he was unable to meet your already tear-filled eyes. “Tomorrow morning. I’m headed for England.”

You didn’t know what to say. The lump in your throat stopped all words in their tracks. You turned away from Bucky, not wanting to even look at him. “I—I’m speechless.” A warm hand landed on your shoulder, but you rolled it off.

“C’mon, Y/N, just let me take you dancing, buy you a few drinks…I had this whole night planned.”

“A whole night just to blindside me that you’re shipping out in less than twelve hours?” you scoffed. “And Steve knew this whole time?”

“It wasn’t all just to tell you I’m shipping out.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what other big news were you going to drop on me…” You whirled to face Bucky, but your anger died out and your voice faltered when you saw what was in his hands.

A ring.

If you were speechless before, you were definitely speechless now. Your throat burned even more from the cries you were trying to keep at bay.

“I had this whole speech worked out, y’know?” he said with a dry laugh. “But you just go shattering every expectation, don’t you?” He paused, trying to form his next words. “I just…I know it’s bad timing. But if I didn’t…if I didn’t do this before I go, I would regret it for the rest of my days. If anything happens…”

“Yes,” you said, nodding your head as tears started to pour down your face.

“You didn’t even let me get down on one knee or ask—”

“I don’t care.” You hooked an elbow around the back of Bucky’s neck and pulled him close, kissing him like your life depended on it. “My answer’s yes.” You pressed your left hand into Bucky’s and he slid the ring home onto your finger. It fit perfectly. Your eyes glistened with tears as you watched the ring catch the light from the flashing neons of the dance hall.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, pressing light kisses into your temple.

“I love you, too,” you replied before pulling back sharply to look him in the eyes. “I’m still mad at you, though.”

“Doll, c’mon…”

[bevioletskies]

across the universe [1/8]

summary: Peter, the son of the Chancellor, has lived among the stars for the first ten years of his life. Gamora, the future Commander of Terra, has lived on the ground for the first ten years of hers. Though it’s finally time for the last survivors of the so-called apocalypse to return to Earth, they might not be prepared for what’s waiting for them. But when Peter and Gamora meet and find their worlds irreversibly tangled together, titles, obligations, and the impending war may be the very last thing on their minds.

a/n: The premise of this fic is very loosely based off of The 100, the television show more so than the book series. However, no previous knowledge is required, as I only used the basic concept and language, and none of the storylines or characters arcs from the show.

Fic title is from the song Across The Universe by The Beatles. Prologue can be found here. Warning for unnamed character deaths, injuries, blood, dry heaving, and Ego and Thanos being assholes to their kids.

word count: 10.2k | ao3 | tag

“Tell us more about Earth.”

Meredith turned to look at her children, who were seated beside her. They were properly strapped into their seats - she’d checked and double-checked and triple-checked that they were perfect, as she was oft to do with just about everything; what kind of doctor would she be if she wasn’t meticulous? - and gripping their seatbelts so tight, their knuckles were turning white. She was trying not to let them see the way her hands shook, too.

“What do we say, baby?” Meredith reminded him.

“Please?” He smiled angelically.

“I’ll admit, it’s not the most advanced of planets,” Meredith said, sitting back to think. “It’s diverse, though, where all walks of life can live together - or at least, try to. I lived in a place called St. Charles, Missouri, with my mama and daddy. They took me to church every Sunday at St. Peter’s when I was a little girl. My daddy would put on the news after we got home, and I liked to see what was goin’ on out there, outside our little house with a big yard. Wasn’t always so nice, but sometimes, you got to see the real good in humans. Or Terrans, as your daddy likes to call us.”

“Then Earth got destroyed by the bad air,” Peter added. “And that’s when Dad came to save everyone, an’ promised to help restore it with his powers so they could have their planet back.”

“Would you like to tell the story now, Peter?” Meredith teased.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Anyways, I remember when I first woke up from cryo-sleep, one of the first things I saw was your daddy, standin’ by my side.” Meredith smiled, reminiscing of a time not too long ago. “I asked him what he wanted. He said, ‘I visited your Earth once before. While I was there, I saw some of the most beautiful sights I’d ever seen, and I’ve been across the universe’. I thought it was a little strange since we’d never spoken before, so I asked him what he meant. He described these flowers, these blooming, vibrant little red beauties, and I said, ‘you must be talkin’ about the river lily’. He laughed and told me I was just like a river lily - the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.”

“I like that story, Mama,” Mantis chirped, leaning around Peter to look at her. “It does not sound like Daddy, though.”

“No, he’s...not much like that nowadays, is he?” Meredith let out a false laugh that made Peter’s brows knit together, though he wisely decided not to comment on it. “Sit tight now. They’ve got officers coming ‘round to make sure we’re ready for departure.”

“We’re already here, ma’am,” a raspy voice said above them, causing the three of them to jump, startled by its sudden arrival.

“Kraglin? You’re not an officer yet,” Peter said accusingly.

“No, but cap’n got all his recruits on duty since there’s so many dang people to account for,” Kraglin grumbled, pulling out his holotab. “Can I get your names?”

“...you know our names, Kraglin,” Peter said, squinting at him dubiously. “And is Yondu here? I was hopin’ he could sit with us.”

“Cap’n’s sitting with the Chancellor and the Council, along with all them other important folk,” Kraglin shrugged. “Names, please.”

Frustrated, Peter sat back in his seat with his arms crossed. Meredith patted him half-consolingly, half-reminding him to control his temper, then began to neatly recite their full names for Kraglin’s records. After he left, she turned to Peter. “You know the rules, baby. Families sit together, and Yondu’s a good man and a good friend, but he’s not family.”

“Then why do I see him more than Dad?” Peter shot back.

“Peter!” Meredith exclaimed. “You know, I’ve just about had it with you sayin’ things like that like they don’t hurt. When we get to Earth, you’re...you’re grounded.” She paused, then, realizing the absurdity of her statement, let out a laugh that even caught herself off guard. Peter turned to look at Mantis, wondering if their mother had finally lost it after being cooped up in space for fifteen years as she continued to laugh like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life.

Gamora woke to her usual morning soundtrack of clanging metal and warrior cries, the smell of oil and sweat permeating every fabric and every surface in every room on Sanctuary. Though she lived on the top floor, thanks in no small part to her status, there always seemed to be something going on in Thanos’s private quarters nearby. He trained constantly, and was never without his most loyal (and frankly, his most morally-corrupt) generals and advisors at his side, consulting on everything from war tactics to technology to governance.

She slipped out of bed, got dressed, and quietly made her way into the kitchen, another room accessible only by Thanos and his “children”, frowning at the sight of an excessive amount of rations that could...well, that could feed their whole army. Through the kitchen’s backdoor was a storage warehouse with rows upon rows of cured meats, a huge indoor vegetable garden (there were shutters covering an opening in Sanctuary’s vast ceiling that cast just the right amount of sunlight over it), and a whole wall of ice boxes that contained seeds and medicine that would last them for centuries. All of this, and she was allowed to speak about none of it to no one.

Gamora never understood why Thanos chose to form a settlement on Terra, of all places. She knew vaguely of its history, its tragedy, its rebirth, but it never stood out to her as particularly desirable compared to all the other places Thanos must have conquered in the past. She wasn’t oblivious to Thanos’s history, however - in fact, he’d told her outright that he had failed to save many planets from their untimely deaths, including hers and Nebula’s, and it meant he had to do a lot of unsavory things in the process. She knew there was a lot more to him than what he claimed to be, and she knew that she didn’t have to be a grown adult to understand that he was no savior. She also knew there was a lot she was still yet to know.

“Gamora.” She turned to see Nebula standing in the doorway, looking unusually tired. “Father has called for both of us.”

“It’s too early for a meeting, isn’t it? I thought people were still healing from last night’s attack,” Gamora commented, but she followed her sister regardless.

A few winding, eerily empty corridors later, the two of them walked up to the door to his war room, recoiling at the unwelcome sight of Proxima and Cull standing guard. “Children,” Proxima said snidely, barely sparing them a glance. Cull grunted.

“Adults,” Nebula snarked back. “Father wants to see us.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Proxima sniffed.

Nebula reeled back, ready to make another retort, but Gamora instead laid a hand on her shoulder, shaking her head in silence. It would do her no good to taunt their older “siblings”, not when they had the ability to kill them in seconds. Gamora smiled tightly at Proxima. “How is Corvus?”

Proxima’s jaw slowly unclenched. “Recovering.” She stepped aside. “Go on.”

They entered the room after receiving one last scowl, courtesy of Cull, and were granted the sight of Thanos stood by his various holoscreens, his back turned to them, Maw at his side. “Daughters,” he said curtly, still fixated on one particular battle plan that was blown up across six adjacent screens. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Nebula grouched.

Thanos turned, narrowing his eyes in her direction. “Watch your tone, Nebula,” he hissed. “It is time for the Sky People to descend to the ground. As of two hours ago, I’ve received reports from our scouts near Trishanakru that a vessel far larger than Sanctuary has broken through the atmosphere. I suspect we’ll be feeling their impact at any moment.”

“What do we do?” Gamora asked.

“We’ve already initiated a lockdown of all essential areas, and have made the call for all families to retreat to Sanctuary and stay in their quarters. And, of course, the army has already been sent out in pursuit of the invaders.” Thanos’s lip curled in an oddly contemplative snarl. “As for you two...I need children to act as my scouts.”

“And...why is that, Father?” Gamora said carefully.

“It won’t be all children, of course, just you and the other contenders. Your rivals, Gamora,” Thanos hummed, turning back around. Maw let out a delighted tittering noise that made both sisters want to punch him square in the jaw even more than usual. “The army has been ordered to kill groups on sight. But the children are to find isolated stragglers and bring them to me.”

Gamora swallowed. “Okay. When do we leave?”

“Now. And pack some rations,” Thanos said, fully directing his attention back to the screens, sweeping through page after page of his battle plans, arranging and rearranging as he saw fit. “Do not return until you have something of interest.”

Peter didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until he was waking up, only he hadn’t exactly fallen asleep, he had been knocked out cold. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes, blinking blearily into the darkness. It wasn’t exactly dark, either; there was a bright red light flashing over and over again like a silent siren. Before he could discern what was happening, though, he felt something run into his eyes; Peter yelped in surprise and began wiping it out with the heels of his palms. Whatever it was, it was sticky and slightly warm to the touch.

He stumbled to his feet, trying to recall where he’d been last and when that had been, squinting at his pitch-black surroundings. We were headin’ to Earth, Peter thought, his scattered brain still buzzing with adrenaline, made even more disoriented by the flashing lights. Then some crazy stuff started happening when we broke through the atmosphere, and people were freaking out - Mantis! Mom! He looked down at his feet, where he could vaguely make out the silhouettes of Mantis sprawled out on top of Meredith, almost like she’d been thrown there. It was then that he realized the whole ship had crash-landed sideways; their seats were completely tipped in the other direction, the walls crushed against the ground.

Peter knelt beside them, shaking their shoulders urgently. “Mom! Mantis! C’mon, you gotta wake up!” He felt a knot of anxiety tying itself up in his stomach the longer they didn’t respond. “I think we’re on Earth, I don’t know why I don’t see no one else, I - Mom, I’m scared, I don’t wanna, I need, I - ”

“Quill?”

He let out a sob of relief, running in the direction of the familiar voice and flinging his arms around his waist. “Yondu!”

“Good to see you’re in one piece, though you’re bleedin’ a bit,” Yondu said gruffly, patting him awkwardly on the back. He drew a dusty rag from his utility belt and wiped Peter’s forehead; he belatedly became dizzy at the realization of what the sticky substance was. “Your mom and sister?”

“They ain’t getting up,” Peter said, tugging on Yondu’s sleeve to pull him back towards them. “What happened, Yondu, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, to make a long story short - we crashed. Real bad,” Yondu sighed, lifting his flashlight a little higher, casting it over Meredith and Mantis’s faces. “Whole sections of the ship, they didn’t make it. Others, like you, were lucky. Relatively, o’ course. Been spending the last hour tryin’ to find survivors. Your mama and sister, I see their shoulders movin’, they’re breathin’, they’re okay. We’re gonna need Meredith and her team to help with some pretty nasty wounds - if she’s up to it, o’ course.”

“What about Dad?” Peter looked at him expectantly. “He said he was gonna come find us before we landed, and I thought he was gonna get us to sit with him on the command bridge.” He hung his head. “That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Dunno what to tell you, boy,” Yondu said, his discomfort rapidly growing. “But let’s get you and your family outta here. Don’t need you seeing all this mess.” He gestured aimlessly at the other unmoving bodies. Peter didn’t want to think about which ones were never going to move again, or he was sure to throw up.

A few of Yondu’s guardsmen came in to help carry out the survivors, while Peter sat impatiently on a cot in one of the makeshift medical tents that the nurses had set up just outside. He tried not to look at the smoldering remains of the Ark, how crumpled and despondent some sections looked, while other parts looked relatively salvageable. Peter certainly couldn’t appreciate his first breath of fresh air, either, or the feeling of wind in his hair, or the beautiful lake on the other side of the tent. It all felt sour, it felt undeserved, it felt wrong.

“You doing okay, Peter?” the nurse asked kindly. “I took a look at your mom and your sister, they’re gonna be just fine. Good chance of a mild concussion, and Meredith’s got a bit of a dislocated shoulder, but nothing some rest and medicine won’t fix.”

“I’m not okay,” Peter mumbled. “People are dead.”

His face fell. “I know. But we can’t think about that right now, alright? We have to help the living.”

Another ten minutes passed before the tent flapped open, but instead of the faces that Peter wanted to see more than anything else in their new world, he saw the cape first instead of its wearer. “Peter! Son, are you okay?”

“Everyone keeps askin’ me that,” Peter grouched, turning the other way. “What am I s’posed to say when people are dead, Dad?!”

“Whoa, now! Watch your tone,” Ego snapped, his face instantly contorting into something more cruel. He stormed over to Peter and grabbed his face, pinching his chin with one hand until Peter’s cheeks ached from the pressure. “What do you say, Peter?” The nurse let out a quiet gasp of surprise and promptly ran out of the tent.

“Sorry,” Peter said, his voice still hardened. Ego released him, though he didn’t look satisfied. Before he could respond, though, the tent opened yet again, and Meredith stormed in like a hurricane, still wrapped in a shock blanket. She whipped it off and promptly flung it at Ego, though it barely grazed his shoulder on its way down.

“Meredith!” Ego exclaimed, chuckling like she merely amused him.

She let out a feral growl in return. “I oughta give you a piece of my mind right now,” Meredith hissed. “You had no business bringin’ us down here when there was even a chance of death!”

“There’s always a chance of death, sweetheart, that’s how life works,” Ego said, waving his hand dismissively. “You think I didn’t calculate every single possibility, figure out every possible thing that could go wrong? You really think that little of me, Meredith?”

“Don’t make this about what I think of you, though I have plenty more thoughts I’d like to share,” Meredith snapped, picking up her blanket and wrapping it back around her body, shivering, though not from the blustery cold. “You got an estimate on how many people we’ve lost today? Or are you too busy going ‘round, pretendin’ everything’s just peachy?”

“Mom,” Peter interrupted. “Where’s Mantis?”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Here I am ramblin’, and I haven’t even checked up on you yet.” Meredith went to Peter’s side, gently prodding along his skull and ribcage even though he’d already been checked a half-dozen times by her best nurses. She then held his face in both hands, cupping his cheeks, and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Mantis is getting cleaned up a few tents down, she knows to come straight here after she’s done. Peter...are you gonna be okay?”

Peter choked out an insincere laugh. “I think so.”

Ego cleared his throat loudly from behind them. “I have to speak with the Council about setting up base here. Think we landed in a mighty good spot - lots of trees and water. It’ll be great support for the manufacturing stations.”

“Don’t you pretend you did a good thing here, Ego,” Meredith said, her voice scarily low. “And don’t you pretend our conversation is done, either. I’ve got plenty more to say.”

“I can tell,” Ego said blithely, turning and walking right out, his expression decidedly neutral. Meredith seethed at his retreating back, wrapping her arms around Peter even tighter.

“People are dead, Mom,” Peter mumbled into her shoulder; he was starting to sound like a broken record.

“We’ll do right by ‘em, baby,” Meredith promised, rubbing his back reassuringly. “Once we clean up the mess your daddy made, we’ll have a celebration of life, right out there on the lake. Did you see it?”

“Yeah.” He sank into her, drowning himself in her warmth, the smell of her perfume and shampoo, unable to hold up his own bodyweight for even one more second. “Yeah, it was nice.”

“Good morning, heda.” Gamora turned to see a rather snide-looking group of children around her age with a few that seemed significantly older, standing behind her, arms folded tightly across their chests. The first thing she noticed, aside from their unfriendly faces, was the weapons slung on their backs or holstered at their hips. “I hear we are following your greatness today.”

“Hey! I was the one who saved your parents’ lives yesterday,” Gamora snapped.

“Forgive us for not bowing at your feet,” another child sneered, one of the older ones, one who seemed far too old to be looking at Gamora with such unwarranted scorn. “Anyone with half a brain would have done the same.”

Gamora glanced over at Nebula, who merely shrugged; she was barely paying attention to their conversation. Unfortunately, it was like most conversations between them and other children, whether during classes or training sessions or unwanted encounters in the halls, and it hardly elicited a reaction out of Nebula anymore. Simply put, there was nothing that would convince the others that Gamora was worthy of what she’d been given.

“We’re losing light,” Gamora said coldly, turning back to look at the others. “We have our orders and our gear. Meet back here at sunset.” She then called for everyone to form small groups, and unsurprisingly, the majority immediately moved away from the girls so they could cluster up together, then took off in different directions the second they were ready, not bothering to announce their departure. Only one child was left standing, one that Gamora had seen many times before, one who never quite seemed to find his footing with the others. “Join us, Drax.”

“Are you sure, heda?” he asked, stepping forward regardless. “I would not want to slow you down.”

“You won’t. We won’t let you,” Gamora said, smiling faintly. “I’ve seen you train...you’re really good. I think your parents would be proud.” Drax’s face crumpled a little at the mention of them, but he quickly recovered, nodding and falling into step beside the sisters.

The three of them ventured across a seemingly endless field of lush grass, far away from everyone else, who had gone for the trees. They knew it left them open, vulnerable to attack, but Gamora told herself she couldn’t afford to be scared. She told herself that Thanos didn’t want to see her until they brought back a hostage. She told herself not to think about what would happen if she didn’t.

Of course, she hated the idea, but she was never going to tell him that. She had always been curious about the legendary skaikru, the people who were saved by a mysterious force right before their planet fell apart. They weren’t even considered Terran anymore, given that they’d been away from Earth for a hundred years, with children who had never breathed fresh air or tasted water that wasn’t artificially created. Meanwhile, the forest, the ocean, the wind and snow, it was all she’d ever known, but Gamora knew she wasn’t truly Terran, either. The idea of designating the Sky People as some “other” who were to be immediately tortured or killed for returning to what had been theirs disgusted her, but she knew no amount of reasoning would change Thanos’s bloodlust. His ongoing war with other factions that had split off from them when they first arrived was proof enough.

“I hear the river, heda,” Drax called; he was a good thirty feet in front of them, gesturing for them to catch up.

“Call me Gamora,” she insisted, her and Nebula jogging up beside him. “If skaikru were smart, they wouldn’t be out here. They would hide in the trees.”

“Then why did we not go to the trees?” Drax asked curiously.

“Because Gamora doesn’t want to be around the others,” Nebula interjected, smirking.

“Because we are looking for stragglers, not the entire group. If they ran or got kicked out, they would be far away from their camp,” Gamora reasoned, elbowing her sister in warning. Nebula’s face fell a little; it was hard to argue with that. “Do you see mud trails?”

“Why?” Nebula grumbled. “There’s mud everywhere.”

“It means someone walked across the river, and we could follow it to see where they went,” Drax volunteered. “The skaikru don’t know how to cover their tracks like we do.”

“Right,” Gamora nodded, pleased. “Let’s go.”

She and Drax immediately started walking again, while Nebula trailed behind sullenly, folding her arms across her chest. As they continued on, their eyes trained on the ground and the sky, Gamora couldn’t help but watch Drax, too. She didn’t know his story, aside from his parents being long dead, but he seemed like the type who could handle a fight. The other children didn’t like him much, but she occasionally saw him spending time in the Sanctuary’s hangar bay with two young engineering prodigies who worked under one of Thanos’s generals, Rocket and Groot. She wasn’t sure how their companionship had started, but she’d never been curious enough to ask. She was almost curious enough to ask now.

“Heda?” His voice broke into her thoughts.

“I said not to call me that,” she countered.

“Mud, like you said,” he said simply, pointing. Gamora followed his line of sight and jogged over, crouching down by the tracks. She wasn’t skilled enough to place any identifiers - height, weight, age - but at least it would keep them from wandering aimlessly forever.

Gamora straightened up, sucking in an unsteady breath. “Follow me.”

The mood at Arkadia was appropriately somber, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Ego had made his usual rousing speech, swearing not to give up, to not let the “sacrifices” (and oh, how Peter and Meredith hated that word, like their deaths had been planned somehow) of the dead be in vain. It didn’t have the effect he wanted, much to Meredith’s secret satisfaction, and there were already whispers among their people that a new Chancellor was to be called for on the ground.

The ship, Ego’s beloved ship, was still a smoking husk of what it was just hours ago, and no one wanted to be reminded of the smell of death, so more tents were set up in a temporary formation, grouped less by station and affiliation, and more by relationships, families and friends who used to go weeks without seeing each other, who were now able to cross boundaries and set their own. Peter and Mantis went to take a nap in their tent after Ego’s speech, exhausted by the day’s events and their father’s empty promises.

“Are you awake, Peter?” Mantis mumbled, lifting herself up onto her elbows. Peter groaned and rolled onto his back. “Are you okay?”

“You tell me,” he snapped, though Mantis didn’t seem offended by his tone. “Everyone keeps askin’ me that like I’m s’posed to be okay with people being dead. People who didn’t do nothing.”

“There are always people who die who did not do anything.” Mantis turned away from him, unable to look Peter in the eye. “My real mama. For having me.”

Peter sighed, the fight leaving his body as he exhaled. “I wish Mom would tell us what happened, so I know what to be mad at Dad for.”

“You are always mad at him, though,” Mantis said blithely. “You are mad when he is here, and when he is not.”

“Yeah, what’s your point?”

“I think it hurts you more than it hurts him,” Mantis observed. “Maybe you should talk.”

“Yeah, right,” Peter scoffed, also rolling over so he was facing away from her, leaving them back-to-back. He curled further into his scratchy blankets and flat pillow, sorely missing his cold, unfriendly bunk back in their little apartment. It was hard for him to process that he would never sleep there again, considering he was almost certain he was going to live his entire life on the Ark, wasting his days and nights dreaming about Earth the way it was never going to be.

“I am telling you what you feel,” Mantis said, scrunching up her nose in anger at him, though he obviously couldn’t see her face. She got to her feet, staring down at him with fury burning in her eyes. “You said to tell you.”

He sighed again, burrowing into himself, wishing everything and everyone would just...go back to the way it was. The way he never knew he could want so badly. “Leave me alone, Mantis.” He heard her irritated grunt and the stomp of her feet, then watched her leave.

It didn’t take long for the tent flaps to open again, though a whiff of perfume told him that it wasn’t his sister. “You two fighting again?” Meredith said sternly, kneeling by his side. “Oh, baby.”

“Happens all the time, don’t gotta fuss about it,” Peter retorted.

“Sure. You’re both young and stubborn as mules.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “It’s a Terran animal. They sure love to dig their heels in the dirt when they don’t wanna go nowhere. Anyways, just because it happens all the time, that doesn’t mean it should. A few harmless fights can turn into a big one real quick, and next thing you know, you never talk again. Or you try to hurt each other in ways that only you know how.” She sighed, her intuition nagging at her brain, telling her to say it before Peter did. “Like me and your daddy.”

“But you still love him,” Peter said. He finally sat up, hugging his knees into his chest. “Or...I mean, yeah, you do, right?”

Meredith smiled another false smile. “Of course, Peter. Don’t you?”

Peter hesitated. “It’s hard sometimes. ‘Specially when he let all those people die.”

She reached out to cup his face with her hand, gently running her thumb over his cheek. “I’m mad at him, too. I’m furious. But you see, life ain’t as easy as one good path and one bad one. Sometimes it’s lots of paths that eventually lead to the right place, but getting there is what hurts. And sometimes, the paths don’t connect or make sense, and that makes it even harder. Your daddy’s doing the best he can with what he has, and I think if he tells us what happened, we can try to understand. Okay?”

He nodded, cracking the tiniest of smiles. “Okay.”

“Oh, and Yondu wants to see you, by the way. I already told him I don’t want to hear nothing about him training you again, but heaven knows neither of you listen to me,” Meredith chuckled. She took him by the hand and led him out of the tent to where Yondu was stationed, and for the first time, they could both appreciate the bite of fresh air along the way. “Come find me at the medical section when you’re done, alright? We’ll go have dinner together.” She kissed him briefly on the forehead before leaving, her mind already racing with the patients she had yet to see.

The guards’ quarters were merely just another long row of tents, most of which were unoccupied since the guardsmen were out helping the other Arkadians set up their temporary base, but Peter still couldn’t help but swallow down the lump in his throat. It was true; he had no interest in becoming a member of the guard since it felt all too rigid for him, too routine. He did like the uniform, though, and he did like Yondu and Kraglin, even though the rest of the guardsmen intimidated him. They watched him almost too closely, given that he was the Chancellor’s son, and he didn’t like that particular kind of attention. It was hard to do anything remotely adventurous with so many eyes following him everywhere he went.

“What took you so long, boy?” Yondu demanded. He was sitting at the front of the tent enclosure, his feet kicked up on a small, half-broken cooler. He seemed far less shaken than when he’d found Peter in the wreckage, though it was pretty typical of Yondu’s usual demeanor.

“Mom wanted to talk,” Peter protested. “She didn't even say nothin’ about you ‘til the end.” His eyes then brightened. “So are we gonna train more?”

“Surprised you can even think about something like that righ’ now,” Yondu shrugged.

“I just wanna think about somethin’ else, I guess,” Peter said quietly. “Me and Mantis had a fight, and I don’t wanna talk to Dad. So...are we?”

“Look, boy, there’s only one person I’m more scared of than your daddy, and that’s your mama,” Yondu said, chuckling wryly. Still, he gestured for Peter to come closer and sit beside him. “I know I told her it was for Kraglin, but she’s right. I could get any ol’ guard of mine to train with him. I’m doing it for you. But she’s your mama, and she knows you better than I do. So...we gotta stop.”

“But - ” Peter cut himself off, unsure of what to say. “We can still hang out and stuff, right?”

“What you wanna hang around an old man like me for?” Yondu exclaimed. “Don’t you got friends your own age?”

Peter shuffled uncomfortably, wringing his hands, and Yondu suddenly regretted asking. “Not really,” he mumbled. “No one wants to hang out with the Chancellor’s kids. Everyone thinks we’re weirdos for having powers, and that if they do somethin’ wrong, we’re gonna ask Dad to float ‘em.”

Yondu watched Peter carefully, watched his head hang a little lower, watched the corners of his mouth droop a little in despondence. He never quite knew what to say when Peter was in one of his moods - which was often - given that he’d never really had someone so young follow him around before. Sure, he had the occasional overbearing parent who insisted he train their “darling” son or daughter, but the child themselves were usually uninterested in the ordeal. Peter, on the other hand, had been in Yondu’s life since he was born, back when Ego liked to bring his infant son to meetings and show him off, excited that his Celestial powers were already beginning to manifest. Personally, Yondu thought it was more impressive that baby Peter was the only person who could make even the coldest of Council members smile.

“Just don’t be botherin’ me when I’m on duty, got it?” Yondu finally said, his voice gruff. Peter’s eyes lit up.

“Duties? What kind?” Peter asked. “Can I come?”

Yondu sighed, getting to his feet and gesturing for Peter to follow. “Guess your mama can’t fault me if you tag along on my rounds. C’mon, I hear there’s something goin’ on at hydra station.”

Gamora let out a surprisingly labored breath, sinking down onto a nearby fallen log, the palms of her hands digging into the wood grain, leaving painfully sharp welts as if to remind her of the time she was wasting. “I need a second. Let’s eat.”

Nebula looked down at her derisively. “Some heda you are. It’s only been three hours.” Gamora glared back, silently pulling her rations out of her bag and beginning to eat; she clearly wasn’t giving them a choice. Drax shrugged, not wanting to argue with her, and sat down to eat as well.

The mud trail they’d been following had eventually led to nowhere, drying up somewhere not too far from where they’d started, making it indistinguishable from the forest ground. Gamora, however, wasn’t about to admit she’d made a mistake, and was carrying on in the same direction. She supposed Nebula saw right through her, but she wasn’t certain about Drax. He seemed attentive for someone who barely knew her, but then again, maybe he just needed a friend. She also wondered whether the other children had succeeded already, if someone was bringing back a hostage this very minute. Thanos would probably - no, definitely - be disappointed if she wasn’t the first one back, would have some fresh form of torture ready in anticipation of her failure. Gamora glanced down at her arm, turning it over so she was looking at the inside of her wrist; a small glint of silver reflected back, reminding her of the last time she'd failed.

“What is that, heda?”

At the sound of Drax’s voice, she quickly pulled her sleeve down over her wrist. “Nothing.”

“Are you hurt?” Drax persisted, reaching for her arm.

“Old injury,” Gamora replied shortly, which wasn’t exactly a lie. “We should go.”

They continued on for some time, finding themselves starting to shiver when they came close to the border of Azgeda territory. Of all the warring nations, they were the coldest, both figuratively and literally, and even Nebula could muster up something resembling sympathy for any poor skaikru soul that ended up on their land. Not enough sympathy, however, to cross their borders in search of stragglers.

“This is stupid,” Nebula announced loudly about an hour later. “Who would stop us if we just stayed out here forever and never went back?”

“We’d die, Nebula,” Gamora reminded her. “Come on, we have to do this.”

“No, you do. No matter what I do, Father won’t care anyway,” Nebula said, sulking, her inky eyes narrowed to slits.

“You don’t know that,” Gamora protested. “If you bring someone back, if you tell him it was all you - ”

It only seemed to agitate Nebula further; she reared back to spit at Gamora, disgusted by her unwanted empathy, and then turned and began sprinting out of the forest and into the open, toward the dreaded border. Nebula screamed at the top of her lungs, something feral and raw and unintelligible that made Gamora’s heart stop for a split second, paralyzed with disbelief. She then went running after her, keeping her head low, hoping she wouldn’t be spotted by snipers in the tall grass; she could just barely hear Drax’s thundering footsteps behind her over the pounding of her heart against her ribcage.

Gamora wanted to call out, but she knew Azgeda warriors were notorious for hiding themselves right outside their walls, and she wasn’t about to announce where she was. The further she went, the harder it was to see, and all she could see was a blurry glimpse of Nebula just up ahead, making it impossible to figure out which direction she was going, swerving and turning at random.

Nebula’s sustained cry was interrupted by a sudden panicked yelp, followed by a sickening crunch. Gamora felt her heart leap in her throat, threatening to spill right out, and she sprinted faster, at a speed she didn’t know she was capable of. She and Drax came to a stop and nearly skidded right into the hole that Nebula had fallen into.

It was at least ten square feet across, and a good fifteen feet deep; laid on top of its opening was an intricately weaved net of grass and branches with a break in the middle, clearly where Nebula had taken one wrong step. She now laid at the bottom in a crumpled, undignified heap, still conscious and breathing, but now clutching at her broken leg. Nebula clenched her jaw, staring up at them with a burning hatred in her eyes as if they’d put her there.

“I see guards, heda,” Drax said, his voice trembling. “What do we do?”

“Gamora.” Astonished, Gamora looked down to see her sister’s expression had changed to something that seemed far more suitable for the child that she was than the adult she was trying to be, the hardness of her eyes melting away in favor of desperation. She grappled at the side of the pit, but the dirt crumbled beneath her fingers.

Gamora turned to look back at Drax, unsure if Nebula wanted her pity. “Carry her back to camp. I’ll fight the guards,” she ordered, missing the way her sister’s face fell.

“They are adults, Gamora. You are just a child,” Drax protested.

Gamora scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “So now my name is Gamora. I am your heda, and you will listen to me. Take my sister. I’ll follow.”

Drax nodded, though it wasn’t without apprehension. He knelt on the ground so he could contort the net into a makeshift rope for Nebula, his brow furrowed with effort. Gamora smiled tightly at her sister, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time she’d ever see her again. She then turned, gritting her teeth, and began running toward the oncoming rush of Azgeda warriors.

Dinner was about as tense as could be expected, with every last Arkadian either sitting in stone-faced silence, shouting and spitting in the faces of the Council members who eventually retreated to the safety (and cowardice) of their own quarters, or sobbing into their stews. Even Ego had to return to his own tent by the time it was dark, unable to face the faces of his people, who at best, felt betrayed, but at worst, were vengeful.

Upon his return, he found Meredith, Peter, and Mantis sitting on the ground, ignoring the cots he’d lined up neatly along the back wall. The children were snuggled into Meredith’s side while she read to them, laughing and interjecting with comments in the appropriate (or in Peter’s case, inappropriate) places. They all looked up at the sound of his footsteps, genuinely surprised to see him. “Ego,” Meredith said, slowly closing the book over her thumb, holding her place. “You’re back early.”

“You never came to dinner,” Ego said airily, striding over to the cots so he could sit down and take off his boots, keeping his back to his family.

“Peter wanted to eat with the guardsmen. Kraglin’s a very good friend of his,” Meredith added.

Ego glanced over his shoulder to look at them, his eyes hard. “I know who my son is friends with,” he said shortly. “But it’s Yondu you’ve gone and gotten attached to, isn’t it, son?”

“I like ‘em both,” Peter said carefully, shrugging. Ego didn’t seem satisfied with his answer, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he reached for the haphazardly-drawn blueprints in his bag and passed it to Meredith, his face relaxing into a gentle smile at the crease that formed between her brows in confusion.

“Construction starts tomorrow,” Ego said, wanting to lean over and press his thumb to her forehead, smooth out her worries, but he wisely decided against it.

“This is...it’s a mansion, baby,” Meredith finally said, her eyes still roaming over the building plans. “Are you gonna have the strength to make that many big ol’ houses for everyone?”

“Come on now, Mer, that’s our house,” Ego chuckled. “Everyone else will get something a little more...standard. Except for the council members, of course, you know how they get. And farm station will need extra land for cultivating - ”

“We don’t need all that space, it’s only us and two kids,” Meredith interrupted. “Do you even know that there’s some families with over twelve people that lived in them tiny apartments on the Ark? Now they could use a big house.”

“I’m going to build you a ballroom, just like the ones you described,” Ego continued like he hadn’t heard her. “Big windows, lots of light, columns that go all the way up to the ceiling - I thought you’d like that, darling. So we can have a proper dance, whenever we want.”

“I do like that idea,” Meredith admitted. “But we don’t need a kitchen with all these extra little gadgets, or three sitting rooms. And I think Peter and Mantis can live with sharin’ a bathroom. I had a brother growin’ up, we survived.” Her expression faltered. “Or I guess... I did.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother, Mama,” Mantis chirped, her large eyes flickering back and forth between them. Peter clapped a hand over her mouth before she could inquire further, his blood running cold in realization of what Meredith meant.

“This is what we deserve, Meredith,” Ego insisted. “We’ve been stuck in that tiny little place on the Ark for too long now, it’s about time we get some breathing room.”

“‘We’? You were only home two nights a week, if you were there at all!” Meredith shot to her feet; her cheeks were flushed red. “And I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean by ‘deserve’. What makes us better than any of the rest? We ain’t gods, Ego, we’re just like everyone else.”

“That’s the thing, sweetheart, we really aren’t,” Ego sneered, his voice rising. “I’m the chancellor, you’re the head medic, and we know Peter’s gonna follow in his old man’s footsteps when he’s older, isn’t that right, Peter?” He didn’t bother looking to see if Peter so much as reacted. “And if you think we should still be in a tiny little dump just so we can be ‘like everyone else’, you got some strange ideas about how to live!”

“And I don’t know where you got your idea that you could talk to me like that,” Meredith’s eyes were blazing with a kind of fury that neither of her children had ever seen. Mantis cowered behind Peter, peering gingerly over his shoulder. “We don’t need a big house, we never did. We don’t need more space between us, we need less, so maybe we can go back to being a family. If we ever were a family.”

“Meredith - ”

“Do you know how embarrassin’ it is, going about my day, hearin’ all the things people say about you? All them rumors about what you do when you’re not home, who you’re really with, who Mantis really belongs to?”

Mantis gasped. Peter pulled her into his arms so he could steady her breathing against his chest, wishing fiercely that he could stop the sobs that rattled through her throat. “Mom, c’mon, you’re scarin’ her.”

Meredith turned to look at her children then, almost as if she’d forgotten they were there, and the fire in her eyes extinguished, her expression melting back into something more recognizable. She knelt beside them, reaching for Mantis. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to - ”

Mantis merely curled into Peter further, rejecting Meredith’s plea. “You want him to hurt,” she mumbled. “Why does everyone want to hurt each other so much?”

“It’s what Terrans do, Mantis,” Ego said coolly. It was the first time he’d said her name in days. “Come on now, we’re just having a little argument. Nothing to get upset about.”

“I do not just feel what is in here, but everything out there, too,” Mantis said, slowly unravelling herself from Peter’s grasp. “Everyone is sad...and angry. They want to hurt you.” She paused. “I feel...others. People I do not know. They want to hurt you, too.” Peter shivered.

Ego knelt in front of her, bringing them eye-to-eye, gripping her shoulders so hard that his knuckles went white. “And what does that mean?”

“Frag emo op!”

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Peter felt his whole world spin on its axis, only this time he was conscious enough to remember it - remember the way Meredith immediately leapt to cover them both, pinning him and Mantis to the ground, remember the way their tent went up in flames, crackling and hissing and spitting as the fire devoured itself, remember the way Ego went charging out into the open with his hands outstretched, powers at full blast, searing blinding white light across the expanse of their settlement, roaring with anger.

“What’s happening?” Peter exclaimed frantically once he found his voice again, barely noticing the sour taste of dirt in his mouth or the scrapes on his elbows and knees.

“I don’t know, baby, but stay calm,” Meredith murmured, helping to push his hair away from his eyes, though she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “We gotta get movin’ before we inhale too much smoke. Follow me.”

The three of them belly-crawled across the ground, keeping themselves beneath the flames that licked at their heels and the putrid air that danced in their throats. After what felt like the longest minute of their lives, Meredith pulled them both to their feet and they all began to profusely cough what felt like the entire contents of their lungs out. “Wait - what - what about Dad?” Peter wheezed. “I got powers too, I could help - ”

“No. We don’t know what we’re dealin’ with here,” Meredith said firmly. “That language they spoke? That don’t sound like nothin’ we’ve ever heard before.”

“What do you mean?” Mantis asked.

Meredith paused. “It means we aren’t alone.”

“Alone?” Peter repeated.

“We can’t think about that right now, okay? We need to get to safety. Your daddy will find us later, he always does,” Meredith promised, pulling them both in for a brief embrace. “Let’s go find Yondu. If he’s doing his job right, he’s already got an evacuation plan up and runnin’.”

They ran through the camp, dodging the panicked Arkadians sprinting past, screaming themselves hoarse trying to find their families and friends. Peter could also hear the heavy footfalls of unfamiliar boots, the metallic clang of weapons striking their targets, the sickening crunch of bodies collapsing to the ground. The loudest sound, however, was Mantis crying frantically beside him, her breath running ragged, clutching to him and Meredith so hard that her fingernails were digging welts into their wrists.

Then, a flash of metal appeared in the corner of Peter’s peripheral vision - bright, brilliant silver, coming straight down toward Mantis’s head - and he shouted, bringing his hands up without hesitation. A blast of white light burned from his palms, stronger than any light he’d projected before, flinging the attacker clean across the field before they could even graze his sister’s shoulder.

Heads turned his way, faces that he didn’t recognize, some humanoid and some entirely alien, all snarling and spitting and full of vitriol he didn’t know was possible. There was a single pause, then they came charging at him, chanting in the language that none of them could understand, holding their swords and guns and spears over their heads with the intent to bring them down on his head. So, Peter did the first thing that came to mind - he ran.

Meredith and Mantis screamed after him until their throats were raw, watching helplessly as the soldiers tore past them in pursuit of Peter, but he wasn’t about to stop, not if his powers would distract them, would keep them from hurting his people. He ran and ran and ran like everyone’s lives depended on it - and in a way, it did - occasionally turning to blast them again, sending them crashing to the ground. It was only when the last of them had finally fallen that Peter realized how far he had gotten and what he had done.

“Mom?” he said rather stupidly, coming to a halt. He knew she couldn’t hear him, not when he was miles away. He turned, then turned again, trying to figure out where he’d come from, but he had zig-zagged all over the fields, through the trees, remembered his feet hitting the water of a shallow stream at some point, and - oh, he thought to himself, unable to find his voice again - I’m lost.

His belly twisted itself in knots the second he realized it, and he clutched at his rapidly beating heart, willing himself to stay calm. He had never been lost before; though the Ark was a behemoth of a ship, there were always people nearby who could help him find his way, no matter how far he wandered off in search of adventure. This was no adventure, this was a nightmare, one in which his vision was getting swallowed up in the darkness, where everything looked the same, but nothing was familiar.

Then, Peter heard a rustling in the nearby bushes. He spooked instantly, leaping backward with a soft yelp. “Don’t be a baby, Peter,” he chastised himself.

He suddenly felt something wrap around his ankles and yank him right to the ground, hitting his chin hard against the dirt. Peter shouted in pain, feeling blood pool in his mouth and nose from the impact, but he was quickly silenced by someone’s hand over his mouth and the weight of someone pinning him down. “Shof op, kepon.”

Peter lifted his head, terrified it was the last thing he was ever going to see, and nearly fainted in shock (and blood loss) at what he did see - a young girl, about his age, baring her teeth at him, blood streaked across her face. He could barely make out any other distinguishing features in the darkness, but he could see the ferocity in her eyes, the kind he’d never seen in someone so young. “You’re a kid,” he said breathlessly.

“Yu...laik goufa.” She looked just as confused as he did, like she was only just seeing him for the first time. She eased her knee away from his stomach (he could feel the bruise already beginning to blossom across his torso) and withdrew the blade she had pressed to his throat, though she still had a tight grip on the advanced-looking device she’d used to bind his ankles. “Chon yu biliak?”

He blinked. “How come my translator don’t work on...whatever it is you’re sayin’?”

She eyed him warily as she got to her feet. “Hakom yu kamp roun hir? Yu hir frag ai op?”

“Look, I don’t know - I don’t - please, you gotta let me go. We just got attacked by - I dunno, prob’ly your people - and I ran and I got lost, and I...I don’t know where I am or what’s goin’ on or - ” His breath rattled between his teeth. Feeling rather silly, Peter held out his hand, scraped raw, blood running down the lengths of his fingers. The girl looked at it with wide eyes, horrified to see what she’d done. “My name is Peter.”

“Ai laik Gamora kom Trikru.” With a soft shnk, his bindings were released, retreating back into the small device she was holding before he could blink. She knelt beside him, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes so they could properly get a look at one another. Her face was softer now, almost regretful. “My name is Gamora. You’re one of the Sky People.”

“Is that what your people are callin’ us?” Peter to struggled to sit up; it felt like every part of his body was aching from the sheer force of her attack, as if a fully-grown adult had attacked him, rather than a girl who had to be at least three inches shorter. “So you do speak...something my translator knows.”

“Trigedasleng is for my enemies, my language is for my people,” she said neatly, almost like she was reciting it from something. “Other children are not my enemy.”

“So what were you gonna do if I was an adult?” Peter asked, incredulous, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Gamora’s eyes couldn’t meet his. “That isn’t for you to know.”

“You coulda killed me! I think I oughta know,” he protested.

Sighing, she sat back on her haunches and began re-pocketing all her weapons; he was alarmed at the number of pouches and loops she had on her belt. “I would take you back to my leader as my kepon - captive. But I didn’t mean to come this way. I was near the Azgeda border, on my way home, when I saw light - your light. So I wanted to find you. I didn’t know you were a child.”

“So, what, your people don’t kill kids? ‘Cos it looked like they were doin’ it just fine back there,” Peter snapped. He then inwardly cowered for doing so; she seemed merciful so far, like she didn’t want to do what she was doing, but he had a feeling that one wrong word had the potential to change her mind.

“We aren’t the same. I can’t hurt you like I hurt the others.”

“Others?” he echoed.

“Never mind.” She got to her feet abruptly, turning her back to him, the last of her knives back on her belt. “Go home, Petr kom Skaikru. I’m letting you live.”

“Wait.” Peter reached out, clasped her wrist to hold her there. His blood smeared across her skin; she shuddered. “I don’t...I don’t know how to get home. I dunno where I am or how far or...or nothin’.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “My people are looking for me.”

“Yeah? So are mine,” Peter retorted, smiling slightly when her expression faltered. “Lots of people died trying to get here. More people are dyin’ right now. I don’t want my mom and sister to think I died, too.”

“You...have a sister.” Gamora turned to fully face him, her expression unreadable. “Fine. I’ll take you back.”

He bit back the urge to draw her into a grateful hug, instead electing to let out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you, um, Gamora kom...kom...I dunno what you said.”

She rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to fall into step beside her. “Ai laik Gamora kom Trikru, ‘I am Gamora of the Forest Clan’. If you and your people are going to stay, they need to learn Trig. Some factions won’t speak anything else.”

“Then teach me,” he said far too eagerly for someone who she’d tried to kill just ten minutes ago. “You said I was - ”

“Peter kom Skaikru - ‘of the Sky People’,” she replied with a huff; she wasn’t sure if she’d ever been so annoyed with someone’s existence so quickly. “Why would I? We’re never going to see each other again.”

“I guess not,” Peter mumbled. “I mean, with your people tryna kill my people and everything.”

“Wamplei ste komba raun,” Gamora said, her voice low.

“What does that - whoa - ”

Peter nearly tripped over something, unable to see much further than a few feet in the darkness. Bile burned in his throat when he realized it was a body, a body he’d put there. A man in armor, tall and lanky and long-limbed. He reminded Peter too much of Kraglin. Gamora stared down at it, unseeing, barely flinching when the man twitched, gasping for breath, his cold-gray eyes flying open.

“Heda?” he asked, his voice thin. “Heda, beja…”

“Okay,” she said, swallowing. She knelt beside him and motioned for Peter to join her. He did so automatically, too numb to realize what his body was even doing, the metallic smell of blood overwhelming all of his senses. “Leidon...reshwe.”

It took Peter too long to realize what was happening as she drew her blade from her belt, then drove it into the man’s chest. His eyelids fluttered closed, an eerily serene smile on his face, and he drew his last breath. Peter let out a gasp of horror, turned to dry-heave over the grass, but nothing came up. “How could you - ”

“I said we aren’t the same.” When he looked back at her, her eyes were wet as she calmly cleaned her blade with a small cloth.

“I killed that guy,” Peter breathed. “All those soldiers, I - they’re dead, and I - ”

“No. I killed him,” Gamora said. Her breath shook. “He asked me to.”

“Do you just go around killin’ people ‘cos they ask?!” Peter’s voice was getting more hysterical with every word.

“Your people are that way.” She pointed in a direction he could barely follow in his haze. “I think I should go now.”

“Don’t.” Gamora hesitated, furrowing her brow at him. “I don’t know what messed-up stuff has been goin’ on here for the last hundred years, but I do know I’m never gonna get back without you. Then I really am gonna end up...dead.”

Wordlessly, she nodded, got to her feet, and began walking again. He followed her, fists clenched at his side. He’d seen more death than he ever wanted to in a thousand lifetimes, created it, even, but he knew he had no choice. Maybe it was better that they never see each other again, that she was some horrifying child assassin that he thought only existed in the books and films that his father told him he could never look at. For now, though, she was all he had.

The rest of the journey back to the Arkadian camp was in silence. Peter kept his chin high, knowing that if he looked down, he’d see more bodies, only these ones didn’t seem to have people who were going to come for them, not like Yondu and his guardsmen for the Arkadians. Gamora, on the other hand, seemed resigned, the confidence in her stride and her posture from their initial encounter entirely gone. He tried not to pay attention to the sharp inhaling noises she made every minute or so; he knew the sound of someone trying not to cry when he heard it. It gave him hope, at least, that she wasn’t entirely soulless. He supposed he should’ve already known that, given her mercy from earlier, but it was hard to erase the vivid image of her blade in the man’s chest, glinting tauntingly in the moonlight.

“We’re here,” Gamora said hollowly after fifteen minutes of uncomfortable quiet. Peter could smell smoke but saw no flames, heard the idle chatter that told him the fight was over. He heard his father’s voice, booming over all the rest. From his tone, he sounded angry but not stricken, and Peter could only hope that meant the rest of his family were alright.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice raw from disuse. He’d never gone so long without talking before. “Hey, uh, are you gonna be okay? About the...thing?”

She turned to look at him; her nose and ears were tinged pink, and it wasn’t from the cold. “He asked me to...didn’t he?”

I don’t know. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he would’ve been hurtin’ for way longer if you hadn’t...yeah, he did.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Her fingers flexed involuntarily, a motion that Peter had only seen Yondu and his other guardsmen do. He stepped closer, though he didn’t dare to reach out. Her sorrow felt contagious. “Sorry ‘bout getting all mad at you for nothin’. I guess I just...when we left for Earth, we didn’t think it was gonna be like this.”

“What did you think it was going to be?” She dragged the heel of her palm across her face in a feeble attempt to dry her eyes.

“My mom’s from here. She had all these stories about growin’ up in a place called Missouri. She went to church with her parents every Sunday at a place called St. Peter’s. That’s where she got my name,” he added.

“It sounds like it was really nice here...once,” Gamora said, a tiny smile beginning to form. “You should go to your mother now.”

“What about you?” Peter asked, stepping even closer; they were nearly toe-to-toe now. “Do you live around here?”

“You really want me to teach you Trigedasleng,” she drawled, almost like she was teasing him. “Even after - ”

“I mean it, it’s okay. Or I guess, it’s not okay, but...I dunno what I’m saying, my head hurts,” he admitted with a weary laugh. He was getting increasingly delirious with every word that left his mouth. Something about this particular time of night - or day, who knew - made everything feel hazy, dreamlike, uncertain. “So...maybe I’ll see you around.”

Gamora looked at him again, really looked at him this time - he was a skinny kid, the kind that Thanos recruited for thievery; he had inquisitive eyes and a curious mouth. His hair was a little long and his words were a little bit disjointed, but against her instincts, she found herself smiling a little bit wider. “Maybe.”

That seemed good enough for him, and he grinned in a charmingly lopsided way before turning to return to his people. The closer he got, the more his heart drummed in his chest, thrilled at the sound of his mother’s strong accent and his sister’s soft lilt. Peter turned to wave at Gamora, still stood atop the small slope, and called, “Thanks again, Gamora kom Trikru!” With a quiet laugh, her eyes damp with mirth, she waved back.

a/n: I love writing Peter and Gamora meeting for the first time in pretty much all of my AUs so that last sequence was so fun to finally get to! Also, I got a comment on the prologue from the lovely star_munches about being unfamiliar with The 100, so to give you some visuals, here is an idea of what Thanos's settlement would look like (with Sanctuary, his ship from Infinity War instead of the show's Ark), and here is an approximation of how Gamora and Nebula would be dressing at this particular age.

I'm not quite sure when chapter two will be posted, as I have a lot of due dates stacked up next month, but hopefully before the end of March! Thank you so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed :)

Trigedasleng translations: frag emo op - kill them all shof op, kepon - shut up, hostage / yu laik goufa - you're a child chon yu biliak? - who are you? / hakom yu kamp roun hir? yu hir frag ai op? - why are you here? are you here to kill me? wamplei ste komba raun - death is coming / heda, beja - Commander, please / leidon, reshwe - goodbye, rest in peace

[tisfan]

Week 2 Fic Report

Projects I worked on this week

current Sandbridge novel -  9,268 words and we’re 2/3 of the way done, I think.

All I need is the Air - 3,570 collab with @beir and that’s done for a first draft. I need to do an edit, since it’s a longer piece, and then Beir’s doing arts, so hopefully that should be ready to go by next month

Kink Bingo - I did 3 squares this week, and I’m going to count the playlist I did as 1,000 word so total that’s 6,544

Candy Heart Prompts 4,165 for the first three of these and they’ll start posting Feb 1

untitled collab project with @polizwrites 663

Total words:  24,210 

We had a week’s worth of snow, so I had spouse and child for this week again.That being said, I did a lot of work this week, so I’m pretty happy.

Projects in the works that I did NOT work on this week but are still active and on my to-do list

QuakeRider fic (unnamed)

Everyone Goes to Tony’s  – Film Noir project. A post modern retelling of Casablanca.

Wonders Within Us - collab project/Blade Runner 2049 AU with @cryo-bucky

To Victor Goes the Spoils – IronDoom

The Galaxies are Transient – Stormpilot fic

All American Road Trip – All Caps

Unless you Dream of Me

Where the Light Enters – (Drarry) Draco asks Harry for Help with his Dark Mark

It is 12:15pm on Friday

I’m headed out to a sci-fi con this weekend (in a few hours) so I probably won’t be writing much this weekend. See you all on the flip side

[jezzula]

Always and Forever: Prologue

Description: Reader is named Jennifer Turner, a young girl in her mid-20s from a rural town in the American south (read with your best Southern accent). After being drafted into SHIELD by agent Peggy Carter, Jen’s life is turned upside down when she meets James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers in the United States Army, as they begin their assault on Nazi Germany in WW2. Seventy years later, she wakes up alongside Captain America. This is her story.

Summary: Jen reflects back on how she ended up in Wakanda with Captain America by her side after being born in the 1920s, and serving as an agent for SHIELD during WW2. She flashes back to where it all began, a small farm in the American south with her two older brothers, Anthony and Ethan. 

I’m trying to keep this close to canon time-wise and event-wise. Bear with me for historic inaccuracies :).

Characters: Jennifer Turner (reader, original fictional character), Steve Rogers (modern), Anthony and Ethan Turner (older brothers of reader [kinda based some of their characteristics off of Sam and Dean Winchester oops], OFCs), unnamed father (OFC).

Pairings: None this chapter

TW: Implied past physical abuse (no description except that there’s bruising), implied past and current emotional abuse (minimal descripton), military enlistment?, that’s it I think? Let me know if there’s more!

A/N: Yikes!! This is my first ever fic on Tumblr and I’m actually super excited about it?? Tags at the bottom are blogs whose writing I admire, or they’re a Marvel/Bucky blog I adore. Feedback is totally welcome, just try and be gentle with me, as it’s my first go at writing and having other people read it.  Double lines indicate a transition between current (2000s) and past (1940s) events, single lines between scene changes.

Modern Day: Imagine it at the very end of Civil War, after Bucky has been frozen in Wakanda

“God Jenny. How did we get here?”

I glanced over into his tired blue eyes, sighing heavily. I was too exhausted to be angry at him anymore. I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

“I don’t know Steve,” I whispered, eyes burning with tears, “I just don’t know.”

It was true. I didn’t know. I had no idea how I went from being a young farmgirl from the South, having barely survived the Depression, to standing next to Captain America 70 years after the War. I don’t know how I am able to stand in an infirmary in Wakanda, staring at yet another cryo-chamber, the frozen face of the man I loved buried inside.

I have no idea how I ended up here. But I know where it all started.

Pre-War 40s: Currently pre-serum Steve though neither he nor Bucky is mentioned in this part, you haven’t met them yet :) Read with Southern accents!

I woke up to the sound of my father screaming. Here we go again, I thought. Yellin’ is not necessarily an unfamiliar sound to wake up to, though today’s seems different. 

It’s not directed at me, I think again, frowning in my sleep. That’s new.

I decide to tune in, and hear who was facing Pa’s wrath. 

“WHAT IN THE HELL YOU MEAN YOU ENLISTED ANTHONY?”

No God. Please no Anthony, please God tell me he didn’t.

“I mean exactly that Pop. America is goin’ to war, and I’ll be damned if I ain’t goin’ with her.”

My heart sinks in my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and I can’t talk. Tears fill my eyes and suddenly I can’t see anymore either. My body cannot function properly anymore. All I can do is cry and pray to God that this is all a nightmare.

I hear a gentle knock at the door, and my brother Ethan slowly pushes into my bedroom. “Jenny honey? Are you hearin’ this?”

I nod and let out a sob, the tears rushing faster down my face. He’s across the room in 3 steps, his long legs carrying him to me, and his long arms wrapping around my shuddering frame, holding me close. 

“Hey, hey, shhh it’s gonna be alright,” he soothes. “I’ll still be here. We can still get out of here even without Anthony. I’ll protect you til we can make it up to New York. I’ll look out for you as best as I can, I promise.”

“And who’s gonna look out for you Ethan? How are we gonna get the money? Pa won’t let me get a job, and at the rate you’re goin’, it’ll take us twenty years to get enough money to get to New York!”

I’m getting more hysterical by the second. By the end of my panicked rampage, I am almost screaming. Almost drowning out my father cursing out my brother below. 

“We’ll be ok Jen. We’ll be ok until we can get out of here. All three of us are gonna get out of here, one way or another.”

All I can do at this point is nod again, burying my face into my big brother’s chest.

Our parents had beaten us since we were little. But once the boys got to high school, they started fighting back. Then they started to fight for me cause I was still so young. The three of us always had each other’s backs. Anthony was the oldest, so he became our new father in many ways. He swore to us that he would never let either of our parents lay a hand on us ever again. And once he made that vow, he kept it to us. I never went to school with another bruise from my father. But even Anthony couldn’t make em stop talkin’.

Ethan is the middle kid. The more sensitive one. He fought too, make no mistake. He was right there with Anthony, the night of The Fight. Matching him blow for blow. But Ethan was always the one I would run to cryin’ after my daddy had called me an ugly, worthless, little whore. Ethan was always the soother.

We had been planning for years to get out. All three of us. Together, always and forever. Once I graduated high school, the boys started seriously talkin’ about gettin’ us out of there. Savin’ up enough money for food and gas to get out of the state, and eventually up to New York. 

My brothers are smart. Anthony worked himself through college, and Ethan’s workin’ right now. They’ll have the education, and certainly the work ethic to get good jobs and take care of us in the city. If we ever get there.

But now, with Anthony leaving, I don’t know what we’re going to do. I don’t know how we’re going to get there. I don’t know where I’m going to end up. But dammit.... we’re getting out of here. One way or another. 

Hope you liked this little prologue! Please let me know what you think! :)

@mar-gega @thatawkwardtinyperson @bovaria @itshiddleskittles @kit-kat-coffeeworld

If any of y’all do or don’t want to be tagged let me know! :)

[amythecinnabunny]

Oof it's been a while since I responded to ome of these tag games and I'm probably gonna forget a few fics because of how late it is but here goes anyway!!

Thank you for the tag, @frigidlyauthorial!!!

(I'm not kidding this is exactly how I name my files I'm pretty much copy-pasting these titles also definitely not me writing sequels when book 1 isn't even halfway done)

Now till eternity // not a permanent title // jatp

See you again? // ml ff // myles & co.

On the 42nd floor // apartment 42 sequel

Ana #2 // Merlin s3

Death by Granger rewrite

The one with bridgette and felix that was gonna be endgame's sequel

The actual sequel to endgame

1998 // mini malfoy shenanigans thrown into a plot

Unnamed jatp one shot that just won't end

Sly Jones aka Shield's best and worst agent

Children of war // WiW#2

The Ghost of Isobel

Charmed but make it jelsa

Bucky is Captain America and he Swears™

Lost Boy

I </3 U

Episkey

A widow by any other name

Swan Song // Loki

Alvara #2

Sentient // stop writing marichat this is for adrinette

A-Force: Assemble

A-Force: Project Recursion

A-Force: Family Matters

A-Force: Trickster's Treats

All is Fair in Love and War

The sequel to the very unfinished all is fair in love and war // Winn

The Dagger in Your Smile // mara stop hurting Adrien 2019 challenge

A match made in the dead of the night // mara stop hurting Tony 2020 challenge

Redemption // baby Peter is a crybaby

That ml cops and robbers story like Romeo and Juliet but without the death

Who Killed King Henry?

Shades of Life

31 Days

31 Days [HP]

31 Days [ML]

The Family Business // Winsisters #1

The things that go bump in the night // Winsisters #2

Genesis

That old story about tess and dot that's gonna be adrinette now

Catsitting // aka Chat Noir is a lil shit

Take me back to the start // Chloé Bourgeois

Slytherin Harry series

Tangled Strings

Sister, oh Sister // toa wizards

Paradox // Writer's Block Collection

Maggie Lee and the Resurrection Stone

Bittersweet Deciet // A.R.C. #1

Pocket Money

The new kid

The Bandit and the Spirit

Ma'am, this is the CIA

Alone, I inked my sorrows

The Fairytale Experience

The one with diana and the guy who calls himself cupid and somehow Artemis gets mentioned a lot???

Lights (book 1 of lights, camera, action)

Legacy // Morgan/Peter/Harley/Riri

The Granger, the Lestrange and the Malfoy // abandon it sis

Warning! // Writer's Block Collection // something to do with karaoke bars

Please Marry Me // Writer's Block Collection

Einstein for Hire

The one with the vampires

The one with the cryo-magic-stuff

The one with Cupcake aka Tony Dixon or smth

The one with Anne and Artie Andrews

The one with Ten and the fake real world

The one with the brothers and the MIB-esque organisation

Thee one with Vermish

Wow, that is a lot of WIPs and I am certain I'm missing stuff y'all please send me asks I am dying to hear reactions to these ridiculous file names andjdjendn

I hereby throw this digging of files onto:

@snowdynia @valiantwarrior37 @mininoire @thebleedingeffect @hadesvibez & the rest of you who see this because you're stalking one of the tags here :)))

WIP tag

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

Tagged by @auncyen

(so, quick note, all of my file names are super boring because I usually come up with titles last, and while it looks like I have a lot of wips most of them are just the beginnings of ideas that I needed to write down because they were living rent free in my head, and I have next to no plans to continue them. i’d love to chat about any of them if y’all are interested!)

atla soulmates

atla reverse au

atla/bnha bc that’s who i am as a person i guess

fae

hzd au

platonic shindeku

tododeku uwu

villain tododeku

voicemail au

deviant trap

elijah

criminals social media

timmy

yj hunger games robin

redx jason

vfdomens

mcu supernatural

mcu umbrella academy au

the sum of all infinity

a kaleidoscopic swarm

groundhog chat

ml courtroom drama

ml hunger games

ml umbrella academy

bridgette

therapist

untitled ladybug fic

world keeps changing

november 21

p5 forest

p5 pjo

p5 soulmates

kawakami

tagging @barikonen, @galahadwilder, @fanfics-she-wrote, @milesgonzalomorales, @captain-truffles, and @sparklefutch!

[kaylaxwrites]

what kinds of scenes would you like to see in a pre-war bucky x reader fic??

[kaylaxwrites]

okay y’all....

if I were writing a bucky barnes/reader fic where reader grows up as Steve’s next door neighbor and then when the war starts she’s a nurse and later is a medic for the commandos and after steve and bucky “die” she’s taken by hydra and experimented on to develop cryostasis and everything but of course she’s rescued by steve in the future...

so if I were writing a fic like this...what kinds of scenes/plot points would you like to see? 

my requests are technically closed, but if you have an idea for this, pleeeease send them my way

also if anyone wanted to maybe read the almost 20k words I have so far...

and would anyone maybe want it to be steve/bucky/reader instead

[kaylaxwrites]

So the semester’s finally over! which means more time to write! I’m supposed be working on requests, but my inspiration has manifested itself solely in the cryo reader fic i’m writing. which is now a massive 65 pages and an outline that’s an additional 10+ pages with so much more to go. 

so because I haven’t posted in a while, here’s a snippet of what I’ve been working on today:

(set mid-Accords discussion when Steve learns of Peggy’s death)

You were drawn from rereading a paragraph for the third time when your phone chimed. You hit the notification to reveal a text. It was short, only two sentences: She’s gone. In her sleep. You inhaled sharply, the phone clattering to the counter. You gripped the edges of the counter, pulling in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to stop the tears falling from your eyes. You knew it was coming. In fact, you were the one to arrange the alert with the nursing home—you didn’t want Steve to have to receive the news over the phone. You knew Peggy’s death was coming…

And, yet, it still took your breath away.

You took a few moments to gather your composure before returning to the remaining Avengers still arguing over the Accords. “Steve?” you called softly. “Tony?” The sound of his name stopped him mid-sentence and he looked over at you. “Can I talk to the two of you for a moment? Privately?”

Murmurs of confusion followed you as you led Steve and Tony out into the hall. You brought Tony along because you knew how much he cared for his “Aunt” Peggy. He was even the one who arranged and paid for her geriatric care. She had been a strong figure in his childhood, always working closely with his father, and you wanted him to hear the news from a friendly face as well as Steve. Tony huffed as you stopped to stand in a corner that was out of the way from any prying eyes or ears. You weren’t how either of the men before you would react.

“This isn’t an argument you can referee between me and the Capsicle, Y/N,” Tony said, annoyance laced through his voice. He crossed his arms over his chest. “This is bigger than me and him, bigger than all of us.”

In a different time, you probably would have joked about how Tony could finally admit something was bigger than him, but you couldn’t. “No, it’s not that.” Tony softened at the tone of your voice, finally picking up on your body language. His arms fell to his sides as he inched closer to you. Steve stepped closer as well, similarly concerned. You could feel yourself getting choked up again. “I’m so sorry. It’s…it’s Peggy.” You glanced up, gazing darting between their faces. “She’s gone.” You watched both their faces fall and the expressions nearly broke your heart further. Before you could speak again, Steve took off, wrenching open the door to the stairwell and disappearing around the corner. You turned to the brunet still in front of you. “Tony, I’m—I’m so sorry.”

You were openly crying now and you reached to take Tony’s hand, but he stepped out of your reach. His eyes were blank, still processing the news. “Go…go to Cap,” he said after a moment. “I’m…I’ll…” You knew he was trying to form the words I’ll be fine, but he couldn’t quite get them past his throat. You stood in the half-open door to the stairwell and took once last glance over your shoulder before silently slipping through the remainder of the doorway. As you made your way through the stairs, you made a quiet request to the building’s AI to send Pepper to Tony’s side. You didn’t have the words to help him, but you knew she would.

You were surprised to find Steve standing at the bottom of the stairs. You had expected him to step out into the clean air of the night, maybe return to his room, but there he stood—staring blankly into the distance. You stopped at the landing just above him and called his name. He turned his body slightly towards you and you took that as an invitation to step by his side.

“How?” was all he said.

“In her sleep.” You wrapped your arm around his and rested your head against his shoulder, offering your silent support. You tried to suppress your emotions, tried to keep the lid pressed tight on the stone pushing its way through your throat. You wanted—for once in your life—to be the strong one and be strong for Steve. But the pressure in your chest was too much to fight. After a few minutes of silence, sobs washed over you. The last connection you had to your pre-war life was gone. Steve pulled you down to the sit on the steps. He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. The two of you sat there until your legs went numb, mourning the loss of your old friend and ally.

i’m very upset the movie didn’t include Tony mourning Peggy’s death bc you know they were close and that is a hc i will die for

[tisfan]

State of the Fic, Week 44

Projects I worked on this week

MCU Kink Bingo - 4,528 and those have both posted

What’s so Fine (About Art) - Murder (or a Heart Attack) sequel, writer!Bucky gets a literary award and has to go speak in public. 5,384

QuakeRider fic (unnamed) - 1,329

Total words:  11,241 

Not too bad considering that it was Christmas, that my family and I are trying to knock out a whole crapton (44 episodes) of television on our DVR/Netflix (we’ve now watched all of Defenders, kept up with Librarians and SHIELD, and knocked most of killjoys out)

Projects in the works that I did NOT work on this week but are still active and on my to-do list

Everyone Goes to Tony’s  – Film Noir project. A post modern retelling of Casablanca.

Wonders Within Us - collab project/Blade Runner 2049 AU with @cryo-bucky

To Victor Goes the Spoils – IronDoom

The Galaxies are Transient – Stormpilot fic

All American Road Trip – All Caps

Unless you Dream of Me

current Sandbridge novel

Where the Light Enters – (Drarry) Draco asks Harry for Help with his Dark Mark

It is 12:11pm on Friday

spouse still on vacation, friends coming over for the whole weekend, and stuff. work time is hazy, prognosis for upcoming week? Bad.

[tisfan]

2018, Fic Report, Week 1

So, it’s a new year, new beginning, etc. Out with the old, in with the new. yay.

During 2017, I didn’t start keeping a word count until a few weeks into the year (which is why last week was week 44 instead of 52. So, my word count for the year is off by like 2 months.) but in those 10 months, I wrote 785,508 words.

Pretty sure I won’t beat that. @27dragons and I wrote Safe and (the) Sound in 6. days. so, you know, that kind of thing only happens once in a lifetime, I expect.  

Projects I worked on this week

current Sandbridge novel - 943 words

All I need is the Air - collab with @beir who has gotten a cover-art sort of pre-drawing done. 1,630 words. I’m almost done with this as a first draft. I need to finish the battle and do the smut, but that’s all.

The Magic and the Man - chapter four and ending of Killer and the Kid, one of my more wildly popular short fics, very salty with an extra special dose of Not Team Cap Friendly. I wrote 5,940 in a DAY and y’all gotta stop with asking for a sequel of that, you’re making me cry.

What’s so Fine (About Art) - Murder (or a Heart Attack) sequel, writer!Bucky gets a literary award and has to go speak in public. 2,772 words, complete and should start posting tomorrow

Total words:  11,285 

Honestly that’s better than I was hoping for this week, especially as I had guests all weekend and didn’t get anything done on Friday - Sunday

Projects in the works that I did NOT work on this week but are still active and on my to-do list

I’m still collecting valentine’s day prompts, and I’ll be doing 14 of those, but I haven’t started writing them yet

MCU Kink Bingo -- I have like 7 squares left on this to get a blackout card.

QuakeRider fic (unnamed) 

Everyone Goes to Tony’s  – Film Noir project. A post modern retelling of Casablanca.

Wonders Within Us - collab project/Blade Runner 2049 AU with @cryo-bucky

To Victor Goes the Spoils – IronDoom

The Galaxies are Transient – Stormpilot fic

All American Road Trip – All Caps

Unless you Dream of Me

Where the Light Enters – (Drarry) Draco asks Harry for Help with his Dark Mark

It is 12:36pm on Friday

We got a crapton of snow dumped on us, so even tho, technically, spouse has been back at work since Tuesday, he only actually left the house on Wednesday.

[kaylaxwrites]

ahhh thank you so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺

unnamed cryo fic - proposal

instead of working on requests like I should i accidently worked on my super long wip. here, have a sample: 

(bucky barnes x reader where reader is a childhood friend of bucky & steve. this part takes place at the world’s fair scene)

You tugged on Bucky’s hand, eyes wide as you took in the marvels surrounding you. You drifted from exhibit to exhibit until you noticed the show starting on the mainstage. “Come on, let’s go! It’s starting!” you called. You grabbed Steve’s hand in your free one and dragged him towards the crowd forming at the edge of the stage. You knew Steve wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else—that somewhere being at a recruitment center—but you wanted to make the most of tonight. Who knew when Bucky would be leaving? You wanted to spend as much time as you could with your boys before the war tore you apart.

Keep reading