#“This one's broken send her to the pile of defects”

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

The fact I ship Daiya and Takaaki and not Takaaki and Hiroko or Daiya and Yasuhiro shows I'm not okay mentally. Like, am I defective??? I think I need to be sent back to the factory because I think I'm broken LMAO.

The people that don't ship Daiya and Takaaki are like: "Uh-oh, this one is obviously broken, send her back to the factory to get her fixed because something is off. I think she's got a few screws that need to be tightened or her programing is off." And my answer is yes. Because there's no way that I ship those two for no fucking reason. I guess it's the same maybe for Hiroko and Takaaki but eh.

I'm sorry to whoever is reading this, but yeah, oops...

[thewestern]

Chapter 12

Kitty’s legal instincts were on the mark as usual. You don’t need a process server to deliver a Cease and Desist letter. You don’t even need an attorney to write one. Anyone can do it. And you can just send them by mail. 

To this, the Mick said, Great, so we can blow it off then. Come to think of it he had been sent a similar notice by a much larger enterprise than #x_brüing for pirating episodes of the premium cable show Entourage in his college dorm room. Nothing ever materialized of that. So I suppose we’re in the clear. 

But Kitty insisted they see it through. Again, she had a funny feeling in her stomach. Something just wasn’t sitting right about Mockingbird commandeering Hank’s memorial party. And who was right there with him but Jaime? Neither of those two had so much as set foot in the Newfy since the day they hightailed it out of there. Then four hours later he sends a threat of legal action via Pony Express? She didn’t say so but whereas the Mick felt put upon, Kitty felt a kind of tingly feeling of sensory awakening, having been called out like this. Like jumping in cold water. Who knows? Maybe Mayor Larry and Jimmy were in cahoots. Wouldn’t that be something?

That being an albeit remote possibility, Kitty insisted that she accompany Mick, acting as his counsel. Grace was coming along for no reason other than she heard #x_brüing was actually kind of tight. When he found out Grace was going, Zeke invented his own reason for tagging along. Social media, the Six Bus, something, something. So then here they were, a Gang of Four. 

Piling into Kitty’s station wagon, they set out from the New Frontier. The #x_brüing taproom was on the industrial outskirts of town, not far from where the planned production facility was being quite painstakingly constructed. This would have presented a perfect opportunity to drop in on the way and have that chat with that foreman, fuckhead, but the Mick didn’t think today he could stand to. One migraine headache at a time.

Even half past rush hour, traffic remained at a standstill in spots. A night crew had shut down three of six lanes on the main thoroughfare. Kitty tried to shortcut around a side street but got caught trying to turn westbound on a one-way eastbound. You are being rerouted … Your arrival will be delayed by … Fifteen … Minutes, said the robotically feminine voice on the navigation system. For the duration, Zeke would stay locked into place, his legs scrunched up against the driver’s seat, and his large head cratered somewhat firmly into the nylon upholstery of the decidedly non-lunar roof. Grace was fast asleep, unconscious to all the world’s suffering, including and especially the Passion of Zeke, who was directly to her right, currently succumbing to this onsetting case of unrequited romantically-induced rigor mortis. 

The Mick — sitting shotgun, a seat he’d offered to Zeke who as a matter of course, demurred — stared a thousand yards out the passenger side window. When he started at the Newfy, the surrounding neighborhood had been a ghost town. Abandoned buildings on every corner. Broken glass in every window. An open-air, intravenous drug market, it was. Back then you needed a reservation to take a shit on the sidewalk, as Russ would oft-reminisce. That was until the New Frontier was among the first businesses to kickstart a Downtown Renaissance, as Mayor Mockingbird called it on the campaign trail when he took complete credit. Good on him for getting out while the getting was still good. The Mick could already see the cracks forming. The few remaining independent storefronts were being priced out and replaced systematically by franchise concerns. Generic-brand Bar and Grilles for expensed lunches and joyless happy hours, catering to the office parks towering above. Below, an open-air shopping mall of small kiosks selling defective nick nacks to the out-of-town suckers — the socks and sandals, tucked-in t-shirt crowd — and big box stores slinging triple-quilted toilet paper in bulk. Sooner rather than later, the city would eat itself from the outside in and the cycle would begin anew. The Mick knew how things worked. He’d seen The Wire.

However, he could also see signs of life flickering, the further out they drove from the dysrhythmic beating heart of downtown. The Warehouse Manufacturing District was gaining a reputation as an Artists’ Enclave. For a fact there were count ‘em-three studios of Western Art which occupied the same city block — the world capital for watercolor renderings of cattle drives. Then branching off like arteries from Gallery Row, there were boutique vendors of decidedly more fashionable trinkets to more discerning travelers, smatterings of cafes and coffee shops, a food court-style collective of farm-to-table restaurants and perhaps the belle of the disco ball … The Fulfillment Centre — a scalable, state-of-the-art concert venue and special event facility. (Scalable insofar as the audience capacity could be adjusted via a retractable wall, so as to accommodate demand flexibility for a wide range of acts spanning all genres. Thusly it was designed by its owner, the Achtung Group, the world’s second-largest dynamic ticketing marketplace brokerage and presenter of live entertainment.) Although all of the above properties were developed by the same property development firm — Hindenburg Partners, Inc., which maintained no visible ties to Mayor Lawrence K. Mockingbird — they had the appearance of having grown organically, like roses from concrete. A sleight of hand made possible in no small part by the large murals which adorned many-a-brick exterior across the WMD. Some were subtitled by irreverent sloganeering, written in the literary tradition of refrigerator magnet Haiku. Others were portraits, broadly canonizing celebrities of the counterculture who were considered to be off-beat in some way, but were nonetheless very famous, often in the throws of recreation in some obscure form, as if in theme park caricature. [A trivial pursuit of art as Madlib: Proper noun, verb that ends in -ing — Johnny Cash, rollerblading; Che Guevara, riding a go-cart; the world heavyweight champ Mike Tyson, reading a Harry Potter book with his boxing gloves on.] All were coloured very vibrantly and between the lines. Seemed as though to the Mick they must have been professionally commissioned. As of course they were — carefully curated Works of Street Art. No, these were no fucking amateur hoods out tagging. Here, behold, as they passed by one spray-painted depiction of Doctor Lupus giving Little Red Riding Hood a physical atop a firetruck examination table. 

Women’s Healthcare is Human Healthcare, his voice bubble said as he handed her a lollipop for being so brave. 

(According to Lupus canon, pediatric medicine was not one of his specialty practice areas. Those were gastroenterology, orthopedics and the intersection between the two, more specifically.)   

Nearing their destination now, they could see how halfway down the block and around the corner from #x_brüing, a line was already queueing up the sidewalk. Zeke was aghast. What theme of event could possibly draw such a crowd? Suffice to say they’d never gotten a turnout like this at the Newfy during his brief tenure, even for the ever-popular Halloween costume contest or Hank’s funeral. As Zeke exhausted himself efforting to count the head of every man, man and occasional woman in line for this mystery fete, Grace was in a deep sleep. As they rounded the last right turn, the centripetal force slumped her head neatly onto the lap of Zeke, who thought he might himself now pass out until mercifully, the Mick intervened. 

Hey, G … Wake up. We’re here. 

Serious props for snagging a power nap on this a fifteen-minute car ride, thought the Mick. Grace surprised him every day. Now he had a funny feeling though, looking at the outstretched beerline. Dandy Jim was up to something, that much was for certain. No wonder that fancy letter gave a time and place to respond in person. He had half a mind to think that whole business with the fake cowboy was just his elaborate, Aspergers-assed way of inviting him to his party. Wouldn’t that be Jamie all over.

Street parking was naturally a nightmare. There was a gargantuan, five-level garage just across the street, but Kitty considered pay lots to be akin to unconditional surrender to forces of evil, the terms to which she could not abide. So then she had no choice but to circle around three times and parallel into a tight spot between two of the biggest fucking pickup trucks you ever saw. 

A couple of times she had driven Hank’s wagon, to pick up a cheese plate or something for Club Wed. (She and Mick were a one-car family, not counting his dirtbike, from which he was taking a sabbatical of indefinite term.) It had a little candid camera on the rear bumper, so as you could see what you were backing up into. Now, back in her swag wagon, every time she threw it in reverse, she couldn’t help look down at her dash for the monitor that was not there. 

They ended up walking right down the line they had driven alongside thrice times previous. Kitty’s skittish glance lingered on the seldom few females among the huddled mass, seeming to be long suffering significant others. (Blink thrice if you’re being held here against your will.) It couldn’t have a degree or two warmer than freezing. And yet here they were, standing duitfully at attention in the dark, wet cold. How come it was nobody seemed dressed appropriately anymore, Kitty noted. Could this maybe be a byproduct of the ubiquitous convenience of modern travel? For those commuting above a certain station wagon, of course. With the privilege to plan their comings and goings with GPS precision. To whom it would usually prove superfluous, preparing for those unplanned inconveniences along the way, like road work or lousy weather.

Walking on by, they were themselves on the receiving end of more than a few sneers. These people were VIPs at best, or they were line cutters at worst … Either way, fuck ‘em, was how the dirty onlookers probably felt about Kitty and her crew. That they were the objects of such scorn, only Zeke really noted. Were we supposed to wait, he couldn’t help but thinking. The Mick hadn’t given it a moment’s consideration. Recall how he hated lines so.

Finally reaching the entrance, the door was manned by a substantial gentleman with a barbed wire arm tattoo, sitting on a plush leather stool behind a red velvet rope. In all his years in the craft beer industry, the Mick had never seen such a thing at a taproom before. Somebody working the door. Maybe you send Grace or somebody out there to check IDs on a busy Saturday, for appearances’ sake. But as far as security was concerned, if it were that a customer ever got over-served to such an extent that would warrant his or her ejection from the taproom, one could safely assume he or she had consumed — at a bare minimum — half a dozen beers, of heavy ABV. Being that bloaty is no form for putting up much of a fight. Usually you could just tip the offending party over and barrel roll ‘em right out the door. If for some other reason they ever had needed a cooler-type at the Newfy — a local power broker dispatching his henchmen to stir up trouble … Knife fights, and the like — Zeke could probably do in a pinch, the Mick supposed. He was thereabouts a bouncer’s average size, anyway. Mentally though, the Mick wasn’t sure he had it in him to go full Swayze, and go for his assailant’s jugular. Even if he had possessed a philosopher’s depth of soul, which the Mick thought Zeke well might. 

This beef stick on the other hand, judging primarily by the scar running the length of his left face — from the red biker bandana, that clinged for dear life around his steaming bald head, down to his rock formation of a jawline — was content to live and die in the physical world. Perhaps more concerned with banging plates than banging out Plato, he had all the ocular trappings of a real fucking hard case. Naturally, his bare arms were exposed and so adorned in prison-quality body art, bulging out from a black leather motorcycle vest, which was itself plastered in iron-on patches. Demerit Badges — outlaw flair for commemorating one’s committing felonies of escalating classes. One above each breast, diamonds outlining numbers — twenty-five on the right (the Mick’s left) and six-percent-er on the left. Then, just about in line with the liver, a Jolly Roger with the skull swapped out for a hop cone. And opposite of that, a flaming white cross. Lastly, a name tag stitched in cursive right above his heart — Herbie Horsecock.

Quite deliberately with two fingers, as if taking some faint pulse, he touched his transparent plastic earpiece, connected to a concealed Walkie-Talkie via a coily cord that ran in parallel to the throbbing vein on his steroidal trapezius. Looking down to his clipboard with the intense focus it might well require him to read, he said in a gravelly voice: 

You’re not on the list.

But you didn’t ask for my name.

End of the line, please.  

No thank you. I don’t care for lines. 

I’m not asking.

Then I’m not answering.

Last chance, asshole.

Hey, hold on a second, Big Guy. That type of name calling is uncalled for. Maybe we got off on the big foot. I’m Mick. I know the owner. He’s a huge douchebag that might be suing me. 

Frankenstein’s monster here was not fully understanding of nor amused by the Mick’s smart tone, and quite honestly why should he have been. As he sized him down and further down, menacingly, a young woman about a third his mass materialized as if from within him like a nesting doll, and tippy-toed up to whisper something in his cauliflower ear. While she had no vest nor accessorizing patches, she did have a credential attached to lanyard, in addition to an earpiece and clipboard of her own, of course, signaling that she pulled rank over this door troll. Begrudgingly then, the sentry unclipped the brass hook from its stantion while the girl cuffed them with cloth sashes — the familiar pattern of red paisley with tie-dye accents — designated for: friends + family. With thee wristbands, the New Frontier Four were henceforth granted entry into an alternate beer reality.

[arjaandsimoni]

The Siege of Castle Fullmoon

“I know he came in here, I want him found! NOW!”

“Every time we’ve tried ‘restraint’ the traitor has slipped through our fingers, and now this! I am done with restraint.”

“Tell Jacob to assemble a squad of four, including himself, and travel to Jaipur India immediately. Target is Stephanie Fullmoon, orders are kill on sight. I repeat, KILL on sight.”

“This no longer concerns you. Go, leave now and forget you ever had a daughter.”

“I’m going to clean up this world… wipe it clean of all you inhuman freaks… you lot are just one more target…”

“Send them the signal to Initiate Plan B. Command code: three two seven zero alpha.”

“This blade… this blaaaaade… C-claiomh… Dorcaaaadaaaassssss…”

Castle Fullmoon

Franklin Fullmoon stood upon the battlements of the Castle and looked down upon an army before him. Several hundred supernaturals stood assembled at the edge of the forest, facing the gates to the castle, and most of Clan Fullmoon had defected. Only his loyalists remained, the others had either opted to sit on the sidelines and wait to see who won or had left to side with his sister Jeannie’s ‘Ravensguard’ rebels.

“So, it has come to this.” he frowned. He stood there, in his fatigues, a Kevlar vest over his chest, and his sword strapped to his back. “These creatures…” he glared. The mob hurt his eyes to look at, all angles and shapes that his mind could no longer bear the sight of. Just seeing them made his temples throb.

He was outnumbered, but this was a siege, and he had the advantage… and a hostage, and even if they got her back… he smirked at that thought.

Then the cyclopti moved forward, and several boulders sailed through the air before crashing into the walls of the castle! The attack had begun!

“Come then. I shall see you all broken and bloody before me!” he shouted defiantly.

All along the battlements his men readied their rifles, and soon the crack and bang of gunshots was heard in response to the stone missiles.

Castle Fullmoon, Interior

With a small thunderclap, the rescue team arrived inside. Nelen Fullmoon, Dawn, Drusilla, and of course Arja and Simoni Barjar.

“Right, I’ve been here before I got banished. The dungeons were this way. C’mon!” said Nelen, flexing his hands as the group ran down the hall after him. The majority of Franklin’s remaining loyalists were on the battlements fighting back the siege, but the castle wasn’t empty yet!

Several agents ran out of a hallway to join the defenders and Drusilla let out a roar and bull rushed the whole group into a wall! One of them began to stand, the others crumpling in a pile of broken limbs, but Nelen lashed out with Merihim and slammed him headfirst into the ceiling, dropping him onto the pile.

A door opened only to meet Dawn’s grin, the man inside suddenly confronted by childhood trauma memories flooding his mind. “Not exactly nice… but I’m not feeling nice right now.” she cackled, teleporting after the others as they ran ahead. Any that met Arja first went down in flames, literally, the furious Vanara ready to destroy anyone who stopped them from reaching her mother… until they finally got to the stairs downwards.

Nelen rushed down first and found two guards at the end of the hall. One of them spotted them, then drew his sword and charged… and before any of the others could react the other one drew as well… and cut down the first.

He took the keys off his own belt and held them out, “Take them. I’m done with this whole thing. I just hung back to give Franklin my own little ‘fuck you.’” he scowled, “I signed on to protect people, but what he did to her is just sick…”

Nelen took the keys, then glanced at him as he ran past. “Wait… what did he do?” he asked… but the guard was already gone.

Nelen looked back at the door, then at Arja, and grew concerned.

He tried a few keys before finding the right one… then opened the door… and smelled blood.

“Gods no…” he whispered.

“MOM!” shouted Arja, shoving past him and running into the cell.

Iravati was there, in her human form, and Franklin had not been kind. He’d taken out his anger and frustration on her, his terror at Eliza’s prophecy coming to pass. Her face sported several bruises, as did her midsection… and Arja paused at this. “… she… she shouldn’t be this badly beat up…” she whispered, “Vanara aren’t like Fullmoons, but we’re still hard to… hurt…” she trailed off… noticing one of the wounds on her arm wasn’t from a fist.

It was from a blade…

Dawn stepped back, her ears folding and her tail floofing, “Oh hell no…” she whispered.

Arja stepped forward, feeling her arm gently, the blood was still wet, it hadn’t clotted yet…

Nelen opened his bag without a word and took out the crystal lens that let him see auras, taking off his glasses and putting it on, then looking Iravati over, then Arja.

Arja’s aura was a bright red and gold, swirling about her like fire.

Iravati’s was… white, and close to the skin, just like a normal human’s aura…

Arja looked at Nelen, and the warlock put his glasses back on, then looked sadly back at her and shook his head. “… she’s been cut by Claiomh Dorcadas… Franklin took her magic, permanently.” he whispered.

Arja stumbled back as if she’d been struck. “No… no this… this can’t be… MOM! WAKE UP!” she shouted, gripping her mother's shoulders.

Iravati wasn’t dead, but she had blacked out. A beating from a Fullmoon man? That would really make a mess of a mundane.

“Mom… he… no… not this…” she slowly sank down as Simoni’s eyes filled with tears, the girl walking up behind her and kneeling behind Arja, putting her arms around the girl and holding her tightly. “I… he wanted us… he wanted us, not her… not my mother…” she gasped out.

Simoni bit back a sob, and then felt fur growing under her arms. “He… wanted us… I’ll… I’ll show him… I’LL KILL HIM! I’M GOING TO MAKE HIM PAY!” roared Arja as she struggled free of her grip, shifting into her vanara form, and pushing past the others, racing out into the castle!

“ARJA!” called Simoni, but the girl ignored her. Arja was blind with fury! A minute later a burst of flames came and a scream echoed down the hallway!

Nelen unlocked Iravati’s restraints and Drusilla picked her up, cradling the wounded woman in her arms as gently as she could. “Simoni…” he warned, “You know where she’s going and you know what she’ll do when she gets there.” he nodded, “Go, now.” he said.

Simoni nodded to him, then raced off through Castle Fullmoon, following the screams of the furious Vanara girl as she tore apart anyone who dared to cross her path.

Simoni caught up with her in one of the main corridors, surrounded by dead bodies. Arja had unleashed her full fury on the remaining loyalists who tried to stop her. Any others were already fighting outside, or had fled the murderous vanara girl.

“ARJA!” she shouted, “Arja! Please wait!”

“Wait? WAIT?!” she demanded, “I… I can’t wait! I have to find him!” she snarled, “He… he broke Hanuman’s line! He upset the order of the Gods! He…” she took a deep breath, and a blast of flame scorched the far wall when she spoke next, “HE HURT MY MOTHER!!!” she roared, her rage literally burning the wall before her.

Simoni nodded, then grabbed her from behind and held on tight. “I know! I know… he hurt mine too…” she whispered, “But… his sword… we…” she blinked, then something that had been bothering her for a while finally made sense.

I saw you two facin’ down Franklin on th’ battlements o’ Castle Fullmoon… ‘n it was definitely both o’ ye. Somehow you two are gonna overthrow th’ usurper.

Simoni gasped softly, ”… that’s what we got wrong…” she whispered.

“WHAT?!” snapped Arja.

“I just figured it out! I know why the prediction didn’t match what happened to us when we fought Franklin in India! Eliza saw us fighting him ‘on the battlements of Castle Fullmoon!’ She meant here!” she exclaimed.

Arja growled, “So we can kill him here?!” she demanded.

Simoni nodded, “Arja, remember that thing we did when the Naga bit Akul? That huge bird made out of fire?” she said.

Arja nodded, then grinned, “You want to throw that at him?” she asked.

“Yes, but not the same as before. We need all the power we can get! As big as possible! I… I dunno, I just have this weird feeling that…” she said.

… that will work…

“… that will work!” she nodded, then glanced around in a confused way. Had she just heard something?

Arja growled, “That’ll take a lot of power, but right now I’m too angry to care.”

Simoni nodded back, then looked up. The front gates and windows of the castle had cold iron bars… but above the gate was a huge stained-glass relief showing the patron of the clan, Morrigan.

… and one wind blast later it was a pile of shards, then Arja and Simoni shot out the now-open window, the garuda spreading her wings as they gained altitude above the castle.

And there, on the battlements, was Franklin Fullmoon, almost as if he was waiting for them.

Outside the Castle

Nelen and the others appeared behind the lines of their allies, Drusilla carrying Iravati in her arms, the woman still unconscious.

At first the Vanara cheered… until they saw her rescuer’s expressions.

The lead Vanara, a man named Vedansh, came up to Nelen, “What is it Nelen? She isn’t…”

Nelen sighed, “She’s alive… but Franklin used the sword on her. She’s human now, her powers are gone.” he replied.

Shock rippled out from him as the word spread, several of the Vanara looked horrified at the thought that someone could truly cut that half of themselves away, but most of them looked every bit as enraged as Arja had.

“Everyone!” shouted Nelen, “This is it! DON’T HOLD BACK! PRESS THE ATTACK AS HARD AS YOU CAN! I DON’T CARE IF THE CASTLE IS RUBBLE BY THE END OF TONIGHT, HE NEEDS TO BE STOPPED!” he shouted.

He then gathered Aisha and Drusilla to him. “You two can fight Franklin head on, I’m going to have Dawn teleport us into the castle again, and me and her will hold off any more of his men that try to interfere.” he said, “You two do what you can to…”

… buy Arja and Simoni time…

“… buy Arja and Simoni time.” he nodded, then paused, looking to his side. “Merihim? Did you say something just now?” he asked.

"… not me, no…" replied his demon, sounding suspicious.

“OI! Cous!” came a voice. Nelen looked up, then grinned.

Loren Fullmoon was walking towards them, a sword balanced on her shoulder. “If yer gettin’ ready ta go give ol’ Frankie th’ business… I have ah few things I’d like ta say ta him m’self.” she grinned.

The Battlements of Castle Fullmoon

From their position in the air above the battlements, Arja and Simoni stared down their nemesis.

“So, you two truly did regain your powers.” said Franklin, “I don’t know how… but I don’t care. Neither of you can touch me. Claiomh Dorcadas will devour any magic you throw at me.”

Arja growled, “You… do you even CARE what you’ve done?! How many people have suffered because of your madness?! You stole my mother’s magic, you imprisoned your own daughter, you sent assassins after your grandchildren, and you murdered YOUR mother!” she shouted down to him.

Franklin glanced out across the battlefield, “No… I don’t care. I want this world clean of the stain of magic… it warps and twists everything it touches. It’s a blight, a cancer… and I intend to cut it out.” he spat the words, contempt ringing in his voice.

Simoni frowned at him. “Once, I’d have tried to reason with you… to try to get you to see what you were doing for what it is. That’s not possible, is it? You’re just… broken somehow. You can’t see any worldview but your own.”

Franklin looked up, “You are children. You grew up watching fairytales and cartoons and think that magic is just a way to fix all your problems. I’ve seen time and time again the damage it can do, the chaos it causes. This world would be better off without any of it.”

Arja snorted, “We may be kids, but we can see the world better than some senile old maniac. You’re not leaving here today Franklin. WE’RE TAKING YOU DOWN FOR GOOD!” she shouted.

… today, the Legacy of Franklin Fullmoon…

“Today, the Legacy of Franklin Fullmoon…” continued Arja, glaring down at him.

… will be no more…

“… will be no more!” she finished, baring her fangs.

… burnt to ash…

”Burnt to ash…” added Simoni, glaring at him.

… and scattered on the wind…

“… and scattered on the wind!” she nodded.

This gave Franklin pause. “Those words…” he whispered, remembering what his mother had said the day he killed her and took control of the clan;

When a daughter of Clan Fullmoon rejoins her cousins in the East, there will come a reckoning.

Its gluttony shall be your undoing. The legacy of Franklin Fullmoon will be no more, burnt to ash and scattered on the wind.

He snarled, then drew his sword, staring them down, “COME THEN! WE SHALL SEE HOW TRUE THE PROPHECY IS! FACE ME NOW!” he roared... and from behind him came another roar.

Franklin rolled out of the way just in time to avoid Drusilla trampling him, the cyclops stumbling to a halt to avoid falling off the battlements as she, Loren, and Aisha joined the battle.

“OI! OLD MAN! I GOT A BONE TA PICK WITH YE!” hollered Loren, unsheathing her sword.

“You threw my sister in your hellish prison just for trying to help people you bastard!” added Aisha, unsheathing her own glowing blade, “We don’t know what those kids are going to do to you, but we’re going to make sure they get a clean shot to do it!” she grinned.

Franklin glared at them, raising Claiomh Dorcadas, “Very well then… ON YOUR GUARD!” he shouted, and swung the sword, aiming for Loren’s head.

Both she and Aisha blocked it in a huge crash of metal, and the blades of light and darkness seemed to almost repel each other as they did.

Inside the battlements the remaining defenders realized the patriarch was under attack, a whole dozen strong charging towards the battle site… and were cut off by Nelen and Dawn.

“You little shits wanted to kill me for this thing? Yeah, I guess I see why, but right now I don’t care! I’ve got him, and I’m going to use him!” he shouted, and with a tearing sound the seal came undone. “VOCO TE MERIHIM! DOMINUS ZOMIEL!” he called out, and the Infernal Storm burst free upon Franklin’s would be rescuers as Merihim unleashed his demonic wrath!

Outside the remaining defenders were fighting directly, but those who weren’t burned by the Vanara riding on their Garuda allies or just blasted off the battlements by the rebel witches who’d sided with Jeannie’s Ravensguard (almost that entire half of the clan) were facing Drusilla’s tribe on the ground. Those who managed to stay back found strange wounds appearing on their bodies as a wisp of cold air chilled their flesh.

Prince Samuel danced among the battle with the goblins and fae who had joined from his mother’s lands, as invisible as a gust of winter chill, his sword drawn and glittering crimson, “HAHA! Oh I’m not even sorry I threw him at mother anymore! His anger was worth it to be able to experience this day!” he cackled gleefully, “Take that you brutish lump!” he grinned, running a Fullmoon man through from behind before vanishing in a swirl of snow. The men who saw him couldn’t touch him, the emotions of the battlefield supercharging his glamour-infused magicks. Where Sammi danced the loyalists fell, their bodies full of holes, their ears full of the laughter of the faeries.

Any who got close wound up blasted from above with ice and snow, a pair of azure wings twirling in the sky as Stephy sang out a rolling stretch of birdsong, “I remember you Uncle Alexander! You said that everything my father did built character huh?! Sammi! On the right! BUILD HIM SOME CHARACTER!” he called, freezing the ground under him as Sammi waved him a salute, then skated past and… well that was certainly a way to build character.

In spite of all this however, Franklin’s defenders were still managing to hold the main force out of the castle… shots rang out along the battlements, the armory emptied of every round they had. Cold iron, blessed silver, slug, everything they had they fired!

Above the battlefield Arja and Simoni nodded to each other, then Simoni breathed in deep and Arja flexed her hands… and together, they spread their wings.

The sky suddenly exploded in flames as the great fiery bird that had driven the naga back appeared once more, both of them focusing all their power into maintaining it. Simoni whistled out a complex melody, weaving the spell into holding its shape, while Arja channeled all the fire she could… and yet…

“Its… not enough… even this much, Franklin stood against Carman… we need… we need more…” whispered Simoni, sweat beading on her forehead.

“More… yeah…” growled Arja, “But from where?” she asked…

Below, several of the Vanara froze, hearing a strange whisper.

… feed the flame…

They looked up at the giant firebird and flexed their fingers.

“Feed the flame…” one of them muttered, then pointed up, and conjured a mass of fire… and threw it as hard as he could.

The witches of Clan Fullmoon soared through the sky, blasting down any of the defenders they could, and yet they still didn’t make a dent in their numbers!

… lift their wings…

Several of them paused, hovering in midair, then looked towards the firebird and saw the flames rising from below… and as one they began to sing, a sound like a million birds calling out to each other at the height of spring… and the winds began to howl…

Simoni realized what was happening, “Arja! Its… it’s the Vanara and the witches! They’re… w-woah!” she yelped, then quickly whistled out a complex melody.

“Yeah! I know! I… I’m trying… but I’ve never held this much flame before!” growled Arja, sweat running down her face.

“I know! Its like… its like trying to contain a hurricane! I… I’m trying…” Simoni gasped back.

“We just… we need all we can get Simoni! Keep going!” she shouted.

“Yeah! Focus… we’re stopping this… one way or another…”

… one way or another…

“… this ends tonight!” they both shouted.

The firebird doubled in size, and seemed to fold in on itself, becoming a gigantic sphere of flames… and then… suddenly… everything seemed to stop…

Ajra and Simoni became aware suddenly that they weren’t holding back the wind and flame anymore. In fact, the sounds of battle had ceased entirely. The two of them looked around, and they realized that everyone below them wasn’t moving at all… on the battlements Franklin was frozen in the motion of parrying Loren’s blow as Drusilla recoiled from a kick he’d landed to her middle…

They could see all the garuda, witches, and even the azure wings of Stephy frozen in mid flight…

And then…

“Well, had ah few close calls, but ye did it.” said a voice.

Standing next to them, on thin air, was a woman. She was wearing a green tabard over chainmail, a pair of leather leggings on her lower half with sturdy boots over them, and a sword on her hip. It wasn’t a magic sword, or a named one, it had no legends sung about it. It was one sword like hundreds of others that a footman in an army would have carried centuries ago. She had red hair tied into a tight bun and bright green sparkling eyes and tucked under her arm was a sturdy helmet with three ravens etched onto it, one on each side and one just above the face opening.

“What…” whispered Arja.

“Heh… you gave us a bit of a scare when you ran off into the castle child. We almost thought you were going to run into something you couldn’t handle.” chuckled another voice, “Your fire burns hot, but then so did mine at your age.”

Standing on the other side of them, again, in midair, was a Vanara man… but one wearing armor that might have been seen hundreds if not thousands of years ago in India. On his head was a tall crown decorated with gemstones like a Maharajah might have worn in those days as well and balanced over his shoulder was something long and sturdy wrapped in a red cloth.

Arja’s jaw dropped, “It… you’re… K-King Hanuman?!” she blurted it out, she couldn’t help it. This was her ancestor! The progenitor of her entire race!

The Vanara nodded, “Indeed I am granddaughter… I’d list all the ‘greats’ with that, but we’d be here all damn night.” he grinned, “Glad to see the fire hasn’t left my people. You do me proud girl.”

“Praise 'er later Hanuman!” the woman said, “We cannae stop time like this forever!”

“Right right, sorry Morrigan… look. We’re here to help you two. That sword of his has got to GO.” said the Vanara king.

Simoni was dumbstruck. They were standing between not one God, but two. The Maven of War and the King of the Vanara had appeared before them!

“Listen, we cannae remain in this realm fer long, th' only reason we’re here now is that all th' magic ye gathered is keeping us stable. Gods cannae exist here fer long without losing our powers nowadays, that’s why we need ye.” explained Morrigan, nodding firmly and gesturing around to the massive ball of flames they were hovering inside of.

Hanuman nodded, “Take this…” he said, handing the package to Arja.

Arja unwrapped it, still staring at his face… she could almost see Akul’s features in it in places, then looked down and pulled the cloth back, revealing a sturdy trident. It had a strong wooden haft, and the head seemed to glow from within… “What is it?” she asked, taking it in her hands.

“We made it ta hold what can defeat Claiomh Dorcadas.” explained Morrigan.

“Well, to be fair, Hephaestus and Tyr made it… really all of us wanna see the damn things gone.” interjected Hanuman.

“Not important right now…” grumbled Morrigan, “Th' point is, we cannae exist in this realm fer long without somethin' specific… that is, avatars. Mortals with our power. That spear can hold 'n amplify our own magic, it’s basically th' opposite of what Franklin is wieldin'… an… Arcane Blade… if ye will… but it needs our divinity ta work.”

Both girls started at this, looking between the two gods.

“Yes, both of you.” nodded Hanuman. “Arja, take hold of the spear tightly, and we will as well, and our divinity will temporarily transfer to the two of you. It won’t last forever, just long enough if we’re lucky, but you need to take our power and drive it into Franklin’s sword.”

“Aye, even if Franklin dies tonight, some other lunatic will eventually get their hands on that thing. But with yer help, we can destroy it! The Mundane Blades are powerful, but they’re not invincible.” added the Raven Queen.

Arja looked between them, then wrapped her legs tightly around Simoni’s waist and nodded, gripping the spear haft hard, “O-okay… I’m ready…” she replied, then glared down at the immobile Franklin Fullmoon. “Lets do this!”

The two gods grinned to each other. “She takes after ye Hanuman.” said Morrigan, wrapping her hand around the spear near the head.

“Then it’s a good thing she found one of your’s. I needed someone who knew to yank on my tail when I went too far.” replied the Vanara king, taking a firm grip of the tail end of the spear.

Slowly, very slowly, time returned… and then several things happened very fast.

The skies above Castle Fullmoon suddenly erupted in light, the fireball changing from swirling white hot to a bright shining gold.

In Jaipur a bruised and battered Rajesh started as a statue of King Hanuman on his wife’s desk suddenly began glowing brightly.

In her Toyland, Isolde the Everblooming Rose almost choked on her milkshake as she saw what was happening on the TV her doll was holding for her to watch the battle on.

In Champs de Nedge, Lady Sera of the Icebound Heart felt her own heart stop as the shock her children were feeling reverberated through her.

On the island of Sicily, the few cyclopti who had remained behind, too young or old to join, felt something in the air, and slowly turned northwards with curious gazes.

Out on the streets of London, Shaman Bond looked up towards Ireland as a loud peal of thunder rolled and picked up his phone, dialing a number. “Penny, dear… pass this along to mother, will you? I believe we may be very VERY busy soon…” he said.

In the Nightside chaos erupted, all the freaks and the night things and other creatures able to feel what was happening, the moon itself seemed to tremble in the sky.

In Houston Mr. Maroon paused on the way to his car and looked to the Northeast, raising his eyebrows. “… well now… that’s interesting…” murmured the Archduke of Greed.

On the battlements Franklin turned and froze, his eyes wide at what he was seeing as Drusilla, Loren, and Aisha nodded to each other, then fled back inside the castle.

Finally, in the Underworld, the shade of Eliza Fullmoon looked up and grinned. "When ah daughter o’ Clan Fullmoon rejoins ‘er cousins in th’ East, there will come a reckonin'." she whispered. "Now Franklin, we see if ah was right."

Above the skies of Castle Fullmoon, Simoni spread her wings. They were gigantic now, as was the rest of her. She was easily double the size she was before, indeed she didn’t even look human anymore! She was a falcon the size of a horse with green feathers tipped with black, a beak and talons of shining gold and a collar of gold and gemstones around her throat, her wingbeats creating a massive downdraft with every flap.

Seated on her back was Arja, brimming with the power of her divine ancestor. She sat in the lotus position, her body wrapped in red silks, and in her hands, of which she now had six, she held the trident.

She opened her eyes, then opened them again, and again, and again… each side of her head had a face of its own now, the eyes glowing with the divinity of Hanuman, and upon her head was the crown of her ancestor. For tonight only, she truly was King of the Vanara.

Below her, on the battlefield, the fighting was forgotten. All the Vanara knelt and bowed their heads. They knew what was happening, even if they could not say how they knew.

“Franklin Fullmoon!” spoke Arja from all four of her mouths at once. “Your sins are too many to be counted. Your actions have caused pain and suffering across the world in your lands and in my own. Today, your actions shall be weighed, and we shall know your karma.” she said, her voice echoing across the grounds. Everyone heard it, everyone understood it, no matter what their language was… they felt the words in their bones.

Franklin glared, raising Claiomh Dorcadas. “MONSTERS! FREAKS AND INHUMAN MONSTERS!” he snarled, squinting his eyes. It hurt him to look at her! It was like staring into the sun itself, but he wouldn’t look away! “LET US BE DONE WITH IT!” he roared.

“So be it… Simoni! With me!” she called out.

Simoni threw back her head and let out a bird-like scream that shattered any remaining unbroken windows in the castle, then flapped up into the sky as Arja aimed the spear down… and went into a dive, aiming directly for Franklin!

The Arcane Blade glowed from within, the combined divinity of Hanuman and Morrigan radiating out from the spear’s tip.

Claiomh Dorcadas was, as ever, a great hole in the world, a gaping wound that devoured all magic that touched it.

With a loud clash of metal on metal, the unstoppable force of their spear met the immovable object of his sword, and all of Castle Fullmoon trembled! Bricks and mortar broke free and rained down on the ground as the spear caught on the sword, pouring out and amplifying the power of the gods even as the sword drank it back down, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, they started to move… and finally… there was a bright flash, and a tremendous crash…

And Arja and Simoni landed behind Franklin in their Vanara and Garuda forms, but the same they always wore now, their moment of divinity spent, and the remains of the Arcane Blade clattered down around them.

Franklin stood, and slowly turned. “Hah…” he laughed, holding up Claiomh Dorcadas. “EVEN THAT WASN’T ENOUGH?!” he laughed, the sword still a black hole in his hand. “EVEN THAT?! NOTHING CAN STOP ME! ALL OF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!” he snarled…

… and then… the softest of noises was heard.

… crack…

Franklin slowly gazed up and the dark aura of Claiomh Dorcadas began to fade from Arja and Simoni’s vision. Along the blade, right in the middle… was a hairline fracture in the metal.

“… what…” whispered Franklin.

… crack…

The sound came again, and a second fracture split off from the first…

“No…” he whispered again…

… crack… crack…

Two more appeared, and a chunk of void iron clattered to the battlements… and from within the hole, a brilliant golden light shined.

Arja grinned, “That sword can’t hold magic forever Franklin… its finally failed you.” she said.

Simoni straightened up as she returned to her human form, nodding, “’Its gluttony shall be your undoing!’ The sword is going to shatter!” she laughed.

Then the sword trembled, and more cracks began to appear, and a gout of golden flame shot out of one of the holes, scorching the stones.

Simoni blinked, “Oh shit the sword is going to shatter…” she realized. “Arja! We need to get out of here!”

Arja nodded, “Yeah!” she shouted back. Then Nelen called from within the castle.

“GIRLS! THIS WAY! Dawn is coming!” he yelled.

“There’s our exit! C’mon Simoni!” said Arja, running inside.

Simoni turned… then paused as she saw something on the floor. One of the fragments of the Arcane Blade was at her feet, one of the trident’s prongs… and it was still glowing.

A moment later she rushed after Arja, the fragment clutched in her hands.

Franklin snarled, holding the hilt of Claiomh Dorcadas tightly even as the blade cracked further, “NO! No I will not have this!” he snarled, “I will clean this world! I will…” he clasped his hand over the crack, then screamed as flames erupted from within!

Suddenly his eyes snapped open and his hands were talons, his feathers on his face, and inside… something long broken was whole again.

He fell to one knee, gasping, then looked around him, then out upon the battlefield. From up here nobody could see his face, but as he gazed out he saw the Vanara, and the Garuda, and his own clansmen and women, and finally saw them as he did before he was taken to Arcadia… they didn’t hurt him to look at anymore. The stomach twisting wrongness he saw was gone… as if it had never been.

“I… what… have I been doing…” he whispered.

He looked down at himself, then out at the battlefield. He saw the carnage that had been wrought, the dead, the injured, and many men and women of Clan Fullmoon lay there. “… my… my mind is clear for the first time in…” he shook himself, “No… I… mother… my daughter… my Clan… my… my grandchildren…” he murmured. “By all the gods what have I been doing?”

His shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions suddenly crashing down on him. “… better that I’d have remained in the Lord of Owls’ thrall than this.” he whispered, realizing it at last as he put a clawed hand to his chest, “My soul. A changeling can’t be turned back because their very soul becomes infused with glamour… but when I first took up Claiomh Dorcadas it tore it all out, and part of my soul along with it…”

He chuckled then… “The Legacy of Franklin Fullmoon will be no more eh? Burnt to ash and scattered upon the wind…” he gazed out sadly at the battlefield. “Ah well, I suppose after all I’ve done, that’s for the best…”

He smirked ruefully, standing with the sword infront of him, blade down with the tip resting on the stones, his hands on the hilt, as he stood like a king on his castle. “Children, but wiser than I’d been in years and years… perhaps they’ll do a better job than I ever could have even if I hadn’t been taken…” he nodded. “I may not be able to stop the sword’s destruction… but I can shape it.” he grinned, his eyes suddenly full of determination, “Castle Fullmoon will be no more. These stones are stained with my sins, let them join me.”

There was a tremendous cracking sound, and the blade split all along the middle, golden fire spilling out from the hole. “Jeannie, my dear sister… I leave it to you… this foolish old man is done…” he whispered.

Outside the castle walls Arja, Simoni, Dawn, and Nelen appeared in a heap among the scattered defenders and the attacking army. Simoni looked up, then screamed to everyone nearby, “CLAIOMH DORCADAS IS SHATTERING! ITS GOING TO EXPLODE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” she cried out.

A distant rumble of thunder and a gout of gold fire gave credence to her words and both armies immediately performed what is known as the ‘disorganized retreat’ or, as it is often called by men in the field, the ‘OH SHIT HERE IT COMES RUN DAMMIT’ maneuver.

The changeling once more known as Franklin Fullmoon gave a satisfied smirk to himself on the battlements, then his eyes glowed with glamour as he took hold of the magic and shaped it, straight up into the sky and straight down into the bedrock. As he did, the mundane blade known as Claimoh Dorcadas shattered, releasing all the magic trapped inside it.

A pillar of golden fire erupted out of the roof of the castle, spreading in a circular radius around it to engulf the entire building. The sword had eaten very well over its existence, and now it all came out in one go!

Yet, this was not the chaotic explosion that Carmen’s demise had caused, the flames shot straight upwards and downwards, but did not move further than the perimeter of the castle itself.

Slowly, as those assembled realized that the destruction wasn’t going to follow them, they stopped and enjoyed the show.

“Daaaaaaaaaaamn…” grinned Dawn, “Now THAT is some fireworks! Looks like someone is celebrating our victory eh guys?” she laughed, “Eh… not my best, I’ll work on it…” she paused, looking up as she shielded her eyes from the blazing glow, "Huh?"

Spheres of golden light were breaking off from the pillar, scattering into the sky in all directions, and one of them was getting larger, and seemed to be heading right for them!

Dawn stumbled back as the fireball sped towards her, then suddenly something smacked into her chest, sending the Cheshire sprawling!

“OW! Aaaagh dammit! That…” she shook herself, then looked down, and her eyes went huge. “… hurt…” she trailed off.

Sitting on her chest was a cat, but one with a purpleish sheen to its fur, and large yellow eyes. Dawn’s jaw fell open in shock, “… it can’t be…” she whispered.

The purplish cat sat up, shaking its head, then it looked at Dawn, sniffed at her, and exclaimed, “Kitten?! Why do you look like a human?”

Dawn’s jaw moved slowly up and down, but no sound came out, her eyes locked on the rather unusual cat sitting on her chest.

“Where is your brother? That horrible man almost kicked him across the warehouse! … for that matter, where the hells are we?” it asked, its voice sounded like an older woman’s…

Finally, after several minutes, Dawn found her voice… and it came out in a low croak, “… m-mom?”

Suddenly, another yowl came from above and a kitten smacked into her face, knocking her onto her back! She plucked it off, and a cat that looked like a male tortoiseshell grinned at her… just a very very young one. It looked to the other cat and said, “Mom! Did he give us any treats?”

Nelen adjusted his glasses, “No fucking way, Dawn… is that…” he asked.

Dawn nodded, “M-my mom… and baby brother… the ones Franklin killed with his sword…” she gasped… then suddenly several more glowing lights slammed down around her, and a whole litter of kittens looked around in confusion.

“Mom! You’re okay!” mewled one.

“We saw that nasty human get you! We thought he killed you two!” shouted another.

“What?!” said the kitten in her hand. “He didn’t kill us! We’re right here!” it said, then it looked around, “Uh… wait, where is here?” he asked.

“Hey! This weird girl smells like our sister!” said another, then it gasped, “DID YOU EAT OUR SISTER?!”

“I don’t think she ate her… I think she IS her! But why is she human-shaped?” asked another.

Sammi walked over, kneeling down, and cocking his head, “Hang on, if I’m hearing this all right… Franklin killed them using his sword, you mean Claiomh Dorcadas correct?” he asked.

Dawn nodded, dumbstruck at the sight before her as her mother corralled her siblings, none of whom looked a day older than the day they ‘died’ to that blade.

“… intereeeeesting…” he mused, “So that sword doesn’t outright kill them, it… seems to hold them in some sort of stasis within itself… and now that the blade is no more, its freed them exactly as they were at the moment of their presumed death?”

Stephy thought, “… like, how if you tear apart a sponge water goes flying everywhere?” suggested the fae princess.

Sammi thought for a moment, then shook his head, “No no no, that’s an utterly ridiculous comparison. I’d certainly never suggest such a silly thing.” he frowned, “Really brother dear, you must work on such things if you’re going to be a proper member of mother’s court.” he chuckled.

Stephy huffed at him, “I thought it was a good one!”

“Oh in what reality dear brother…” Sammi teased back.

Simoni watched all this, seeing Dawn holding her mother tight and then telling the rest of her littermates what had happened, electing several responses of disbelief and one ‘is that why I’m so hungry?,’ then turned to Arja, “If they came out…” she said.

“Maybe mom is back to normal!” she grinned.

The two of them ran through the ranks of the Vanara until they reached behind the lines and found Iravati… but she was still human. She’d regained consciousness and her wounds had been treated by some of the Ravensguard, but they could tell she was still powerless.

“Maybe not…” sighed Arja. She wanted to do something, but they already had. Franklin and his sword were no more… there was nothing left they could do.

“Arja, Simoni…” smiled Iravati sadly, “Its alright girls, I’m alive because of you both… I’m sure I can learn to deal with just being a mundane. Your father manages just fine.” she sighed.

“Yeah, but that’s dad!” huffed Arja, “You are a Vanara! You can’t just pretend that’s not how you were supposed to be!”

Simoni nodded too, fingering something in her skirt pocket. “Arja is right. I had to pretend I was a mundane human most of my life and it was horrible! I lost my powers and it hurt like nothing I’d ever felt… but…” she took a breath, hearing a whisper in her ear. “Iravati… listen… if this doesn’t work… SORRY!” she yelped, then her hand darted out and she drove the prong of the Arcane Blade into the spot that Claimoh Dorcadas had cut her.

Iravati gasped and Arja shireked, “SIMONI WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”  she screamed, then she stopped as she saw her mother's arm.

The blade glowed with all colors, the divinity of Hanuman that remained flowing out of it and into the wound and the prong seemed to melt through the bandages. Iravati peeled them away, looking at her arm. It glowed and shined like the metal of the blade for a moment, then with a flash of light her arm was healed as if the wound had never been at all.

“I… I feel… warm…” she whispered in amazement, then closed her eyes, took a breath, and flexed… and her body erupted in golden fur as a long prehensile tail sprouted from her waist, her eyes shining from within with the Arcane Blade’s light for brief moment… then changing back to their normal color.

She looked at herself in amazement feeling over her fur, “I… I’m…” and she grinned widely, her eyes tearing up, “I’m whole again!” she gasped, and around her the Vanara saw, and a cheer rose up.

“MOM!” squealed Arja, hugging her tight as Iravatai hugged her back, then the woman turned to Simoni and pulled her into a hug as well.

“Simoni… how…” she asked, “What was that thing?”

Simoni shrugged, “Lets just say… we had a little help up there.” she giggled, returning the hug to the Vanara woman, “They said that it was the opposite of a mundane blade, so… well if the mundane blade cuts magic out of people, maybe what was left of the arcane blade could put it back?” she grinned.

Arja smirked, “A warning might have been nice.” she laughed.

Simoni giggled, “Magic is weird sometimes, maybe it wouldn’t have worked if I had. Sometimes you just gotta stop thinking and go!” she nodded.

Arja rolled her eyes, then grinned at her, “Yeah, I suppose sometimes you do.” she chuckled.

Nelen watched the shining pillar of golden fire engulf Castle Fullmoon, blazing up through the clouds. He stood there at the edge of the forest, his freshly re-bandaged hands in his pockets. “Its finally over…” he muttered.

Jeannie walked over to him, the elderly woman nodding. “Aye, that it is. I wanna believe, maybe at the end, that Franklin was sorry for it all… but th’ important thing is that it’s over.” she agreed.

“So… what now?” he asked, looking to her with a raised eyebrow.

Jeannie sighed, shaking her head as she gripped the head of her cane. “We’ll have ta start over. Castle Fullmoon is gone, it’ll be a rough road that’s fer sure.”

“Yeah, but we’ll need the Clan.” the warlock replied, nodding at the older woman. “The sword’s destruction is a good thing, nobody will ever be able to use it like he did again… but it could have some serious unforeseen consequences.”

“How’s that?” she asked, cocking her head at him.

“Dawn’s family.” he replied, gesturing back behind them. Dawn was sitting amid the others, holding her mother tight, her eyes still sparkling with tears as she told them all of what had happened after the night in Michigan when they were cut by Claiomh Dorcadas. How she believed them all dead, how she helped Nelen escape his grandfather and his men, how they’d traveled to the Nightside, how she’d learned to transform, and how they’d begun doing mercenary work for the Wulfshead Club. The kittens constantly asking questions, clarifications, or just shouting out their disbelief as her mother simply curled up in her lap and listened.

“Franklin’s sword supposedly killed them, but right now I’ve got a Cheshire over there who just got reunited with her mother and all her siblings who, according to them, had no idea that they’d been ‘killed.’” he nodded to Jeannie.

“Is that so…” murmured Jeannie, looking at the flames as countless spheres broke free from the pillar.

“Yeah, and that sword was centuries old, perhaps eons even. Almost as old as Clan Fullmoon. Jeannie, do we even know how many things that blade had, quote unquote, killed?” he asked, sounding rather concerned.

Jeannie shook her head, “Nae, we don’t. Truth is, it was never stolen. Th’ matriarch of the time realized it was too damn powerful ta use, but th’ temptation was too great. So she had some o’ th’ lads ride a ship out one day ‘n chuck th’ bloody thing overboard in th’ middle of th’ ocean.”

Nelen nodded, “I had a hunch, nobody would have been able to steal it without magic, but they couldn’t use magic TO steal it.” he said, looking back to the flames consuming Castle Fullmoon.

“Aye, I dunnae how th’ hells Franklin found it, I suppose now we’ll never know… but as fer where it was between us ‘losin’ it and him findin’ it…” she whistled low, a faint breeze rustling the trees. “Lad, somethin’ tells me we’re gonna get VERY busy…”

“No shit.” he replied, then yelped as her cane cracked him on the head.

“OI! Ye may be a demon-haunted warlock but yer still me nephew! You watch yer bloody mouth!” she snapped, then cackled at him.

Next Story

Previous Story

[security-breach-imagines]

hey umm i never entered an ask but if you write smut how about reader (can be male or female) having sex with vanny/vannesa in her vanny coustume please?

Warning; smut, swearing, fingering, oral, costume sex(?) and bottom Vanny

Summary: This takes place before Gregory arrives at the complex, Vanny is a new rookie at the place taking a special interest to (female) Reader. Later on wearing her costume to tease Reader while they try to do work

Note; This took forever to write I know I should've written it as a short story or something, but holy crap I went overboard because I got too excited when I saw this ask

The night seems to drone on as time went by so slowly, especially since not only did you have to patrol the complex but fill a bunch of reports for today - not only that a new rookies came today and one in particle seem to take a liking towards you.

Vanessa.

You don't why or how but she seems to like you a little too much for a rookie just starting today, always hanging off your arm or standing real close to you when operating something. Though you find it annoying most of the time, Vanny (as she likes to be called sometimes) is very easy on the eyes with her long blonde locks and full lips. Shaking your head and try to focus on your work in your office. Going through about maybe 20 or 30 reports so far you look at the clock only for it to be 12:05 PM, groaning in defect throwing your hands up and cover your eyes - during your exhaustion your door opens as a white and brown rabbit walks through, jumping out of your seat trying to find you baton as the person giggles. Finally finding your baton when the masked intruder pulled off the rabbit head to reveal it was Vanny giggling.

"Vanny, where in the hell did you find that?"

Setting back down the baton and back into your seat as the rookie sat down on your desk laying the mask down.

"Just found it in the back."

Highly doubting that so you didn't question it, getting back to the reports while Vanny kicks her legs back and forth - after a few minutes you feel Vanny running her hands up and down your arm. Trying to shrug her off as she touches you, getting on your lap pushing you away from your desk and work.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, nothing boss.~"

Sliding her hands down your chest slowly with her gloved hands, sending a strange sensation until she slid her hands under your shirt - feeling her hands going back up then kneading your chest. Putting your hands on her thighs but you know you shouldn't do this not here.

"Vanny we can't do this."

Taking her hands out of your shirt and placing them on your shoulders, leaning her head down to nibble on your neck.

"Come on now, I've seen the way you looked at me today. And today was such a drag today, was it not?"

Remembering the accounts of broken down bots, stupid and clumsy rookies and the piles upon piles of paper you need to do today.

"Wouldn't be nice to let that stress out, boss."

You gripped her thighs and lift her up from your lap and onto your desk, pushing Vanny down onto her back as the piles of paper fall to the ground - at the moment you don't what took over you but you felt like you need this. Pulling on her collar hearing the fabric tear but nether the less you began to your assault on her neck, feeling her tug your hair and the bottom of your shirt.

Taking both of her wrists and placing them above her hand with hand while the works on her lower garments, hearing the fabric tear again - cupping her heat in your hand feeling how wet she becomes. Pulling back from her neck to gaze at her from her messy hair, bruised neck and to her tore costume as she tries to catch her breath.

"What happen to that confidence you had earlier?"

Tracing your finger around her slit as she effortlessly try to buck her hips, putting a little pressure on her clit as you drag your finger up her pussy. Pushing her panties to the side dipping your finger, teasing her as she lowly moans then pull your finger away - Vanny groans before you push your finger back in. Ruthlessly pushing your finger in slowly as you went back to her neck, continuing to leave more bruises on her as she moans breathlessly. Slowly pulling out then back in repeating the motion over and over leaving Vanny a moaning mess, surprising her as you push in a second finger into her as she tries to pull her wrists out of your grasp. Pulling away from her neck and releasing her wrists, sliding your hand down her chest, her stomach then sliding it under her thigh - peppering her cheeks and tugging her lips with your teeth then lifting her legs over your shoulders, blowing hot air onto her slit feeling her shudder.

"Want me to stop?"

"F-fuck, NO! Don't stop!"

Arching her back up just enough to look you in the eyes before laying back down, her hands gripping onto yours on her thighs. Kissing trails from her thighs then kissing around the spot that needed your attention. Kissing and sucking on her clit hearing her moan, feeling her move her hand away from your right hand and into your hair - sliding your left hand away from her thigh to knead her breast, hearing her gasp as you overstimulate her. You finally stop teasing her and slide your tongue into her, tasting her juice as she sharply gasps feeling her grip in your hair tighten feeling her moving her hand - looking up to see her bite her knuckle from screaming. Moving your hand away from her breast and move away from her slit to finger her again, back to sucking her clit. Feeling her tighten around your fingers you stop your motive, Vanny bolts up on her elbows before asking why pulling her hand away from your hair. You pulled her by her neck kissing her drinking in her moans as you drill your fingers into her.

"B..BOSS! Shit! I'm so close! F-fuck I'm so close!"

Pulling away from her lips pushing her back down on her back by her shoulder, while you watch her unravel as she came all over your hand moaning into the night. Letting Vanny catch her breath as you move away from her licking her cum off your hand, before you wiping your hand with tissues - throwing away the used tissues and going to your closet to find a spare blanket. Gently moving Vanny off your desk and onto your chest as you sat back down in your chair, forgetting about your work for a while as you felt the costumed guard snuggle into your chest.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos​, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae​, @toxiicpop​,  @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough. 

  Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland. 

  "And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

  New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute. 

  Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

  Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

  Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

  X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General." 

  The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio. 

  With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter. 

  "'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

  Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

  "If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

  ...

  Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

  Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture. 

  "I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car. 

  The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

  Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

  What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

  What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself. 

  But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

  His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

  He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

  Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

  The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise. 

  "It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

  "Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

  Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

  "What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply. 

  Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

  "I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

  "I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

  "To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

  "Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted. 

  "You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked. 

  "W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive. 

  Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

  Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

  "Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward. 

  "I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

  "What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

  "B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

  "Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

  "We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

  Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

  Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches. 

  "Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel." 

  Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

  "I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

  ...

  Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

  "Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door. 

  Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

  "You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

  Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

  "It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

  Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child." 

  "Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-" 

  Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

  "Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

  The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

  "Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

  "Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand. 

  The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position. 

  Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

  "Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them. 

  "What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights. 

  Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

  "With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

  …

  Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact. 

  "Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy. 

  "It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

  "Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

  "Got nothing to lose, right?" 

  "It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called. 

  Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

  Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

  "Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here." 

  "Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?" 

  Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating! 

  Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

  At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

  The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

  A family. 

  Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now. 

  It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

  Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

  The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold. 

  "Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

  "Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

  "Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

  "Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

  Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders. 

  Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

  "That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

  "Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

  "Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

  "This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced. 

  "Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

  "That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

  "Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights. 

  "Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop. 

  Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

  Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

  "Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

  "I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely. 

  "Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

  ...

  The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip. 

  The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

  Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way. 

  The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth. 

  Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner. 

  "Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

  The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

  Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit. 

  "I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

  Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses. 

  Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

  "To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!" 

  "Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

  "Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin. 

  Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

  "Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

  Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…" 

  Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

  "I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

  "Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

  Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet." 

  She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

  ...

  "So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do." 

  Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration. 

  Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

  His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

  Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter. 

  Happier. 

  Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

  "Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

  "...Nate?" 

  Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee. 

  The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

  "Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

  "Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

  Nate. 

  Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child? 

  Somehow he had managed to survive? 

  Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all. 

  The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

  "Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

  Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

  "Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

  "Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

  "Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

  "Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

  "I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

  "You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

  Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

  "In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

  …

  I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

  Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast. 

  As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

  "Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

  "-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

  "Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

  "Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

  A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles. 

  Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-" 

  "Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

  "Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

  "True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

  "I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

  "Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

  "Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

  Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun. 

  The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

  "I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child. 

  "Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

  It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word. 

  Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

  "I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

  Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

  "Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time. 

  "It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you." 

  "I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends. 

  "Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

  He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

  "Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

  "You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

  “It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

  "I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

  "Of course."

  "I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

  Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

  His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots. 

  "Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

  "I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human." 

  "Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

  "It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

  "It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

  "Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact. 

  "I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

  Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

  The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

  Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

  She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell! 

  "Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

  "No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

  "Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

  "Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

  "Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips. 

  Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

  Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

  "Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy? 

  "Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

  "It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

  "You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  "Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point. 

  His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

  "Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

  "It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

  "You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

  "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." 

  "It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

  Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

  He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?" 

  He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

  Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

  "Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

  "Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

  "No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

  "I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

  Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

  "I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish. 

  Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth. 

  Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand. 

  "Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

  ...

  Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand. 

  "Hey, Danse?"

  He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

  "Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

  No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

  "A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

  Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

  "You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

  "Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair. 

  "Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now. 

  "I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

  Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

  "Yes, please."

  She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

  "P-Please...Danse."

  He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

  "Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

  "Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

  He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

  "What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

  She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed. 

  If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever. 

  "What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

  "You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me." 

  Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

  The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

  Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

  "This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

  "Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

  "I do have nice tits." 

  Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

  "The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

  The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

  "Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

  Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

  Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

  "Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

  "You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

  Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow. 

  "I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

  "S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

  Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?" 

  Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

  "Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her. 

  Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

  It was serious. It always was. 

  Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

  "Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him. 

  "Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

  …

  For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of. 

  Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get. 

  Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

  Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

  Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly. 

  "I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

  "So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

  She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

  "I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her. 

  "I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

  "Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan. 

  "Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

  "I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

  Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

  "It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

  I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

  A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

  "I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

  The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months. 

  "I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore. 

  She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

  "No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

  "If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop." 

  Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life." 

  Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame." 

  "What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

  "It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend. 

  "Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts." 

  "I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

  Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

  "It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

  "I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

  "It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

  Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it." 

  Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

  "Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

  "You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place. 

  She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

  "Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time. 

  Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

  Elizabeth.

  Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

  "Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

  "Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

  "Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

  "I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

  Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

  "Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

  Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away. 

  He's really nothing at all like Nate.

  "Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

  "You...even though I'm not-?"

  "He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

  "I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder. 

  Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

  "You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

  "Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss. 

  ...

  Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

  The future.

  He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

  She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course. 

  It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

  This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better. 

  Whatever the future held, they would face it together. 

  Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

New Year’s Eve

Summary: Steve and Peggy have a good friend who’s a handyman that comes and helps you out.  Pairing: Butcher/Handyman!Bucky x Female Reader Warning(s): Pure fluff. Widowed Bucky. Word Count: 2,711 Notes: This is my entry to @nacho-bucky‘s writing challenge! My prompt was “The smell of cologne on warm skin”. Thanks for hosting darling Cait!

“Do you need any help washing the dishes?” Peggy calls from your living room. Her and Steve lay sprawled across your couch, fire crackling and spitting in the hearth, spilling warm light in the otherwise dim room.

“I’m okay. The water pressure is still on the fritz. It takes so long to do them that I’ll end up doing most of them tomorrow.”

“It’s still-hic-broken?” Steve asks while rubbing his belly hoping to relieve some of the tension.

You can’t help the soft chuckle. He always got belchy when he overstuffed himself on your chicken pot pie. Tonight was no exception.

“The kitchen sink pressure is busted. The light switch for the second bedroom doesn’t work, my shower scalds me randomly. Ah the joy of owning an old house with charm.”

You’d moved to the small cozy town in upstate New York two years ago. Peggy and Steve lived a couple blocks away. After realizing that you and Peggy both worked at the same hospital, the two of you had become fast friends and Steve came along with her. You were a nurse at the town’s Veteran’s Affairs Hospital, and she helped coordinate the hospitals volunteer department. You were frequent visitors at each other’s homes for dinner.

“Really hun you should get those fixed.”

“I know. I’d fix it myself but electrical and plumbing are where my homemaking abilities stop.”

“I know someone who could help.” Steve chimes in. “I think he’s free tomorrow. He usually takes Sunday’s off from the shop and does some handyman work on the side. I could text him?”

You pause for a moment contemplating. Normally you’d balk at hiring help but if Peggy and Steve endorsed this handyman then he was trustworthy enough to let into your home where you lived alone. Probably kind enough not to comment on any mishaps you’d made in maintaining on your own either. Besides, you weren’t getting anywhere solving the issue on your own. You kept telling yourself that you’d set something up on your days off or take a look at it after your shifts. That had been happening since you’d moved in.

“Fine. Send him over.”

****

“The sink first? No, the shower?” You scratch out your writing and reorder the to do list on the house once more when a firm knock nearly startles you out of your seat.

You aren’t sure what you’re expecting when you throw the door open in the late December cold, but it certainly isn’t James Barnes.

He’s a tall man. Nearly appearing to fill your doorway before you invite him in. While he takes off a bright red knit cap and gloves, you take a moment to study him further. He folds the hat and gloves with a delicate reverence and large calloused hands before tucking them both inside the pockets of his jacket.

The planes of his face are that of a different era somehow. Softer. His full cheeks are flush and rosy. A stunning compliment next to the blue of his eyes. The brunette hair that was previously hidden by the winter hat falls nearly to his shoulders and curls at the ends ever so slightly. He’s clearly a strong man but it’s blanketed by a soft belly that strains the waist of his pants where his flannel is tucked.

“James, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stands politely in the entryway of your home glancing around a moment before you realize he’s waiting for instructions. “Steve said you needed some help with plumbing and electrical work.”

“Ah yes! I made a list but I’m not sure what will make the most sense to start with.” You start towards the kitchen but don’t hear any footfalls behind you. “James?”

“I only have my boots,” he says plainly while staring at the footwear. “They’re covered in snow. I don’t want to track it in.”

“Just leave them by the door.”

You could have sworn you saw the rosy blush in the large man’s cheeks deepen. There was something strangely intimate about seeing him pad towards you in his woolen socks, toolbox in hand.

You’d shown James your list and it had been as if his entire demeanor had shifted. He asked you quick questions, took notes, looked at and studied the defective appliances. Gone was the shyness. Instead was a confidence and assuredness you found pleasing. You found yourself wondering why you’d waited so long to get these things fixed in the first place.    

The afternoon had gone by with light snow flurries falling on top of the white blanket already coating the ground. You lit a fire once more and baked some molasses cookies. It was a warm spiced recipe you hadn’t had since your childhood. The task gave you something to do with your hands while a stranger roamed around in your bathroom; dangerously near your shampoo. When the cookies were iced you found yourself placing a small pile onto a smaller plate and walking to the bathroom.

“Cookies?”

“These look wonderful.”

He wipes his hands clean and before you can blink, he inhales two of the cookies. “These are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.”

“I think you’re flattering me.”

“I’m serious! My wife wasn’t much of a cook. She used to burn nearly everything. I had to do most of the cooking, or we went over to Peggy and Steve’s. Before they moved up here of course.”

“I can send the recipe home with you. So, she can try to bake these.”

You aren’t sure what you’ve said but his face falls for a moment before regaining a small sad smile. “I’ll take the recipe, but she won’t be baking them I’m afraid. My wife, Natasha, she passed away five years back.”

“I’m so sorry, James. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. Steve doesn’t talk about her much. He took it really hard. Blames himself. They used to work together you see.”

You absently grab a cookie to avoid saying something else foolhardy. These two years with Peggy and Steve and not once had they mentioned James nor his wife Natasha or this past life. Some wounds must really run deep.

“You’re in your head,” James says nudging your shoulder. You hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten in the small space. At this range you could smell his cologne. There was something woodsy about it. Like clean pine needles and amber. You found yourself knowing he’d be wonderful to be wrapped up in on a cold day like today while the snow falls in front of your fireplace. You cursed yourself for the indulgent thought after just learning the fate of his wife.

His smile warms you once more. “I’ll have to come back. The plumbing tasks were more complicated than I anticipated, and I’ll need to go pick up parts. Does tomorrow work for you? I know it’s New Year’s Eve, but Steve said you were eager for it to be fixed.”

“I’m gonna kill that man when I see him.”

“I know the feeling.”

James’s laugh was one you felt reverberate from deep down in his chest. The thing seemed to fill him up and warm his cheeks once more from the inside.

“I’m free tomorrow.”

***

This time when James knocks on your door you’re ready for the blue of his eyes to knock you off your feet. He nearly bounds through the door; following a similar routine as the day before. He folds the red hat and gloves neatly and places them in his jacket pocket, but this time removes his boots and sets them confidently on your shoe stand.

“I was thinking of getting started on the kitchen tasks if that’s okay with you.”

***

“Oh shit. Shit shit shit.”

“Everything okay?” James voice sounds from the cabinet under your sink.

“Well Peggy and Steve asked me if I’m willing to cook this very specific dish for their New Year’s Eve party and I said yes a while back, but I’d forgotten about it until now.”

“And the party is tonight. And all the stores and closed.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Well first, it is New Year’s Eve. And second, I’m going too.” He pauses sheepishly enjoying your mild panic. You hurry about the kitchen opening and closing various cabinets trying not to trip over his tools that are scattered in front of the sink. “What if I finish up here and then you come down the shop and I’ll let you get what you need there?”

“The shop?”

You vaguely remember Steve saying that this was something his friend did in his spare time, but you hadn’t paused to ask what his primary job was.

“My butcher shop. I own the shop on the corner of Miller and Melrose in town.”

“The really beautiful one? Blue and white building? Red letters?”

“That’s the one. But really, it’s nothing. Plus, then I can say I helped and then my store-bought cookies won’t seem like such a consolation dish.”

“Deal.”

***

The shop is dark and quiet; closed for the New Year’s holiday. You’d made several protests on the drive over to James about the inconvenience, but he’d shrugged them all off.

“What’s the point of owning a grocery and butcher shop if I can’t help out my friends when they’re in need,” he said with a bright grin before disappearing into the back room to get you the cuts of meat you’d ask for your braised short rib recipe. You wondered when he’d crossed from your handyman into friend. Then again, he’s Steve and Peggy’s friend. And he is awfully easy to talk to. Perhaps he is a friend already.  

You quickly threw everything you needed into your tote. His shop was small but well stocked with everything you needed. You hesitated at the small old-time cash register. Surely, he’d let you pay. He had to. You set the bag on the counter and, against your instincts, go behind the counter and into the back room.

“James, I need to know how much I owe you. Come ring me up?” you joke.

Your laughter is cut off slightly when you find him hunched over a large stainless-steel table, clad in a black rubber apron, slim sharp knife in hand and a full side of beef on the table. He’s at work slicing and cutting.

It’s a grace you’d never have guessed his large frame and calloused hands capable of possessing. Before, you’d seen the brute strength he’s capable off with the other chores at the house, but this was different. Each stroke was deliberate. Each knick, precise. He could have done this with his eyes closed.

“Just the short ribs or did you want some extras for later in the week for yourself while I have this out.”

You startle a bit clearly engrossed in watching his hands make quick work of the animal. “You really didn’t have to get this all out for me. I feel horrible.”

“Well I knew the boys had already closed up last night, holiday and all. I don’t mind. Really.” His blue eyes finally look up from the knife work into your own. “Let’s get you some steaks and stew meat.”

“Are you coming over for pot roast and steaks?”

“Is that an invite?”

It was hard to guess who was blushing more.

***

“I’m gonna need to be here in the kitchen while you work if these are going to be done on time for dinner. Is that okay?”

“Of course. It’s your house, doll. Besides, I’m nearly finished and I’m sure the smells will be amazing.”

You go along slicing the onions and searing the short ribs until they’re caramelized a deep brown on the outside. The onions get added and a hefty amount of garlic next. It’s about this time that James pops his head out from under the sink.

“All done. Plus, that smell is heavenly. What is it?”

“Garlic and onion.”

You add in the red wine to the heavy bottomed dutch oven and throw the dish into the oven for the next two hours. It’s shockingly easy to pass the time with James until the short ribs are done. The only difficult thing is swatting James away from the oven from “checking” on them every twenty minutes or so.

Steve and Peggy only live a short walk away but it’s blustery cold and halfway down your block you can feel your ears are stiff and red with chill. James has offered to carry the dutch oven full of short ribs and you carry his box of cookies.

“You didn’t bring a hat. Did you?”

“I’ll be okay. The walk isn’t far.”

He sighs before stopping and setting the crock on the sidewalk and removes the knit cap from his head. His mitten covered hands don’t give you a chance to voice your protest before he’s dragging the material onto your head and over your ears. In seconds they could scream thank you for having a barrier to the wind.

“Thank you, James.”

***

“Why are you wearing his hat?” Peggy exclaims before you can get your whole body through the door.

“Because my ears nearly fell off my head?”

“That’s the hat Natasha knitted him. He nearly went on a murderous rampage when he left it on a city bus one time. I know you don’t quite comprehend what that means but it’s serious.”

You glance across the room looking at James.

He’s engrossed in a conversation with Steve. His plump cheeks are a pink as ever. You’d learned that it never really goes away. You found it rather endearing. He looked beautiful with a flush on his skin. Steve must have said something funny because James’s little belly jumps up and down with each chuckle that tumbles from his lips. He certainly doesn’t look like someone capable of murderous rampage.

“I’m starting to think that maybe Steve should have suggested Bucky’s handyman services sooner.”

“Bucky?”

“His nickname.”

“Yeah well...so am I.”

***

The dinner party is small. New Year’s is rung in with drinks, laughter, and friends. Everyone enjoyed the braised short ribs and even Bucky’s (you’d teased him calling him this for the first time) cookies got sufficiently nibbled on.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Is James walking me home or is Bucky?”

You can’t tell if it’s the party jubilations, but you swear you see an eye roll as he playfully pushes you towards the door and your hosts. Steve wraps you in a massive hug, Peggy plants a kiss on your cheek and everyone says their goodbyes and Happy New Year’s.

The blustery wind from before has died down and the snow falls in delicate flakes undisturbed except from your footfalls. The world seems blanketed in a cold snow globe of silence.

“You know you had to walk back to my place anyway, right?” You finally break the silence. “Your truck is there, ya goof.”

He slips an unmittened hand into yours before saying, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Peggy told me about your hat and gloves.”

“Natasha took up sewing and knitting. She was good too; quick with her hands, I guess. She wanted to have a repair shop one day. Said she liked that being a seamstress almost always meant putting things back together and being a fixer.”

“That’s a really beautiful way to look at it. I managed to learn sewing pretty well but knitting I never mastered. Natasha must have been a special lady. I could only manage straight lines and barely that. There’s a graveyard of Frankenstein mittens lurking somewhere upstairs at my place.”

With that you earned what was becoming one of your favorite sounds; his booming laughter.  

James comes in at the promise of a hot toddy; as repayment for saving the day. The two of you are sat in front of the fire on your couch when, in a stroke of boldness, you pull his arm over your shoulder. Leaning into his side you can once again smell his cologne wafting off the warm skin from his neck; sweet amber mixing with the bourbon and cinnamon of the drinks and something deeper.

“Is this okay?”

He sighs a contented sound and nuzzles you closer into his soft side. “This is okay.”

[tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016]

Gratitude (Yandere! Daniel x Female Reader.) (Chapter Four)

Authors Note- And look what we got here folks, looks like I’m back with Chapter Four of Gratitude. And this is where things will start to get dark as well. As you can gather this chapter will feature obsessive thoughts, non-con touching. Because our boy Daniel just can’t keep his hands off our sweet little reader. As well as original character death, and non-con kissing. If none of this is your cup of tea then this is where we will part ways, but I’ll remember out time fondly. 

Now that we got that out of the way here is Chapter Four of Gratitude.

Chapter Four: You Were Meant To Be Mine.

Weeks had past since the incident and in that time Daniel found his thoughts constantly revolving around you, and you alone. He didn’t know why but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. You the human who had forgiven him after he had nearly choked the life out of you, even if you ended up having to wear a scarf until the angry looking bruises faded, now they were barely noticeable. At that time Daniel had felt more than a little guilty, and he still did. But as time went on Daniel found himself getting more and more obsessed with you.

And now Daniel found himself wanting you all too himself. And now here he was sitting here on the couch watching as you milled about in the kitchen, humming to the music playing on the radio as you moved around the room. As Daniel worried at his bottom lip  as he wracked his mind for a way to get you. When the sound of your friends walking into the living room jerked him from his thoughts. Casting wary glances in his direction as the walked into the kitchen. Unlike you they weren’t so forgiving, and to make matters worst he had over heard them one night telling you that you needed to get rid of him.

Hell, they practically insisted on it. Anger swelled his chest as he stood outside your door, obviously your ‘friends’ weren’t as forgiving as you were. Daniel’s eyes narrowed Katie looked in his direction, seeing the distrust shining in her eyes before she walked away, as she did Daniel felt a smile forming on his face as he came up with an idea to get rid of them, after all he knew nothing would happen if they continued to stand  in his way. Hell, whenever he so much as looked in your direction they seemed ready to come to your aid if they needed to be.

They were in his way. Daniel concluded with finality, they needed to disappear and quickly. Smiling to himself Daniel leaned back as he thought of the perfect way to get rid of your friends.

***

Those two could be so stubborn you thought with a frustrated sigh. Sure, you knew why they were so adamant on you getting rid of Daniel after that incident, but you said no. Why would you? The whole thing was an accident, at least that’s what you had told yourself, but since that night you had found Daniel watching you. This eerie look in his eyes always sending shivers down your spine whenever you were alone with him. 

Maybe your friends felt the same thing? You looked up from the dishes you were doing peering through the window you watched as the friends in question piled into Tony’s car, intent on heading to work. You, on the other hand had decided to take a few days off from work, the last thing you needed was people asking what happened to you, or assuming the worst and come snooping. A certain android came to mind when you thought that. That would be the last thing you or Daniel needed was Connor nosing about simply because he was concerned for you. 

That and if he happened to find out that it was you that snuck Daniel out, and repaired him? It would be curtains for the both of you if that happened. So, here you were sitting at home bored out of your mind with the android your friends were beginning to mistrust.

“Y/N?” Daniel’s voice spoke up, jerking you from your thoughts with a small scream escaping your lips as the plate you were drying slipped from your grasp as Daniel stepped into the room without you even hearing him. 

Did all androids move around so quietly, or was it just him? Calming down you offered the blonde android an apologetic smile as you stooped down to pick up the shards of porcelain as Daniel moved further into the room, eyes glued on you. God, you were gorgeous, drawing closer Daniel was silent as he dragged his fingers through your hair. Making you jolt up, eyes wide as you looked to him, that was all he needed as he drew closer to you, taking the broken pieces of the plate out of your hands he placed them on the counter beside you.

“Daniel, are you okay?” you asked as he backed you into the counter. 

Nodding Daniel smiled as he cupped your chin, looking deep into your eyes as he pressed his lips  to yours in a tender kiss. A low moan escaping his lips as he pulled your close, hands gripping your hips as he deepened the kiss. Only to jerk away when you bit down on his bottom lip, hissing between his teeth he grunted as you pushed him away from you and raced up stairs to your room, before slamming the door shut. 

That...Daniel thought as he dabbed at his bottom lip, his fingers coming away blue. Was far better than he ever thought. In fact he wanted more, he loved the way you felt pressed against him, a thrill running through his body as he recalled how you struggled against him. The look in your eyes as you pushed past him. He wanted you, needed you. And... Daniel thought darkly as he thought back to your friends he knew he wouldn’t be able to have you if your friends were in the way. So... Daniel thought, as he turned away from your door, a new thought forming in his head as he walked away.

He was going to make your friends disappear...

***

Okay, you thought as you sat huddled against your door, as if half expecting Daniel to try and break down the door. There was definitely something wrong with Daniel, you concluded. It seemed your friends were right, how could you have been so stupid as you ignore them in the first place, how could you have been so stupid as you think it was a good idea to bring him into your home?

No!

Shaking your head violently you pushed that thought from your head. You were being ridiculous. Maybe... maybe there was something wrong with Daniel’s wiring to make him act like that? Or maybe he was trying to thank you for fixing him? If so... then what was with the look he had given you before the kiss? 

Something was wrong. Nodding to yourself  you picked yourself up off the floor and moved to where your phone was sitting on your nightstand. Casting a glance over your shoulder you dialed Tony’s number, maybe he would be able to find out what was wrong with him?

God, you hoped so, you had no idea what you would do if you couldn’t find out what was wrong with him, let alone have him in your house. 

***

This... Daniel mused, a cruel smile on his face as he looked down at the body of Katie. Her blood staining his hands, the look of horror on her face as she looked up at him with lifeless eyes. Taking Katie out was far too easy, he had managed to grab her right as she was walking into the house late at night. Smiling he relived the moment when he clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the basement. Remembering dragging the blade across her slender neck, blood splattering onto the floor as she went limp in his arms. 

Blood pooling onto the floor beneath her Daniel wiped the blood from his hands and face before climbing up the stairs. Checking his internal clock he saw that it was 3:00 AM, you had long since gone to sleep, so that just left Sofie. As well as Tony, upon thinking of the Cyberlife employee Daniel felt his anger swell as he recalled the phone call he had overheard between you and him. You thought he was defective, thought that something was wrong with him? 

Well, Daniel thought darkly, his LED a bright, bloody red. He’d show you...

Shaking that thought from his head he made his way to Sofie’s room. The bloody knife hidden behind his back as he pushed the door to her room open. There she was, her back to him as she typed away at her computer, oblivious to the fact that her life was about to end. Biting down on his bottom lip Daniel crept across the room, eyes glued on the woman, when he was at arms length he drove the knife deep into her gut. Sick satisfaction forming in his stomach as she looked up at him, eyes bulging out of her skull as she looked up at him.

Pulling the knife from her stomach he watched as blood blossomed across her shirt, before he drove it into her chest, blood spilling past her lips. Daniel didn’t stop, even as the life faded from her eyes, even as her torso became a bloody mess of stab wounds he didn’t stop, until he heard footsteps outside the door. Was it you? Dread formed in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you walking in on this, he didn’t want to hurt you, but he would if he had to. However before he could dwell on that thought any further the sound of footsteps faded away and Daniel was alone once more. 

And your friends? They were gone, they wouldn’t by trying to get you to get rid of him anymore. All that stood between him and you was Tony, and Daniel was certain he would be more than easy to take care of. Seeing Sofie’s phone on the table he sent a quick text to him, and then got up, noting blood staining his hands once more as he grabbed the blanket from Sofie’s bed and covered her body with it. It wasn’t going to be the greatest way to hide a body but until he had everything sorted out it would do. Hearing you return to your room Daniel looked down at Sofie’s phone as it gave a notification that Tony had gotten his text. 

In the few moments everyone you cared for would be gone, then it would be just you and him. Daniel couldn’t help the excitement that filled his chest as he thought about that. You and him together, forever...

[arianaofimladris]

The beginning of an end

Another @whumptober2020​ story, finning in prompts:

No 7. I’VE GOT YOU Support | Carrying | Enemy to Caretaker

No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask

No 23. WHAT’S A WHUMPEE GOTTA DO TO GET SOME SLEEP AROUND HERE? Exhaustion | Narcolepsy | Sleep Deprivation

Fandom: The Silmarillion

As Glaurung destroyes the Gap and the landsare consumed with fire, Maglor seeks refugee in Himring.

The  scene  taking  place  below  was  close  to  the  utter  chaos.  The  sea  of  elves,  horses and  wagons  seemed to  fill  in  every  street around  the  inner  fortress.  They  came  all  mixed,  civilians and  warriors  alike, Maglor’s  and  his  own,  who  had  dwelled away  from  Himring.

Maedhros  watched the  commotion  from  the  height of  the  inner  walls,  but  as  the  refugees,  most  without  horses now,  reached  the  courtyard,  he  ran  down  the  stairs. Every  set  of  hands  seemed to  be  needed, even  a  defective one,  he  thought with  a  hint  of  grim  amusement  as  he  helped one  of  his  soldiers  down  from  his  mount;  his  people  alone  came  with  the  horses. Almost  everyone  carried a  wounded  or  a  child. As  one  of  them  reported to  Maedhros,  those  who  were  not  helping in  the  transportation,  stayed behind  to  protect the  column  of  the  refugees.

Alcarino,  indispensable Alcarino  was  there  from  the  very  beginning, ordering  the  worst  wounded  to  be  taken  to  the  chambers  that  would  be  adapted  for  healing  rooms. Maedhros  left  these  arrangements  for  him  and  the  other  healers,  knowing they  would  know  best  what  they  were  going  to  need.  He  appointed  two  of  his  guards  to  take  the  sleepy,  exhausted children  to  the  refectory  and  get  them  warm.  A  few  women  went  with  them,  while  other,  healthier, remained  and  helped with  the  wounded or  the  stock  that  had  to  be  kept  under  roof.

Maedhros  worked alongside  his  men,  but  every  time  they  helped  a  wounded  from  horse  or  a  wagon  to  be  taken  to  the  healing ward,  he  glanced to  see  if  it  wasn’t Maglor.  In  all  the  commotion he  had  no  means  to  ask  about  him  when  there  was  do  much  to  do.  He  forced back  the  gnawing feeling  of  panic  every  time  he  pushed another  child  towards the  warm  hall  or  answered a  question  of  yet  another confused  refugee.

 Maglor was  the  last  to  come.  They  rode  in,  a  small  group  of  soldiers who  barely  found  space  in  the  already crowded  yard.  Everyone, save  for  a  few  Maedhros’s men,  was  dirty  and  covered with  ash  and  blood,  but  the  eldest son  of  Feanor spotted  the  familiar silhouette  of  his  brother.  He  answered  some  question  without bothering  to  check  who  was  asking  and  rushed  towards Maglor,  who  swayed dangerously  in  his  saddle.  

“Kano!”  Maedhros kept  him  steady before  he  fell.

“We  couldn’t...” Maglor  rasped  and  stopped,  coughing violently.  He  was  shaking  badly, his  good  hand  clenched  on  the  saddle. His  tunic  was  burned,  his  trousers  torn  and  his  cloak  was  all  but  scraps.  Moving them  aside,  Maedhros saw  that  he  was  missing a  sleeve  and  a  bracer.

“I  see,”  he  nodded shortly  and  put  his  arms  around  his  waist.  “I’ve  got  you,”  he  muttered as  Maglor  all  but  fell  into  his  arms  and  went  limp.

***

 Cold.  Wet.  Hurts.

I  fell, Maglor  thought.  I  fell  and  they  left  me  in  the  snow.

Terrified,  he  snapped  his  eyes  open  and  saw  a  ceiling. The  pain  remained, radiating  from  his  burned  arm  and  side,  and  his  cheek  stung   with  barest  flinch, but  the  only  wet  thing  turned  out  to  be  a  poultice on  his  throat, which  he  removed as  soon  as  he  sat  up.

We  managed, he  realised  and  a  wave  of  relief washed  over  him.  He  looked around  and  recognised Maedhros’s  bedroom.  The  sorry  remains of  wood  in  the  fireplace explained  the  chill  in  the  chamber,  but  instead  of  burying  himself deeper  in  the  blankets,  Maglor rose  from  the  bed  to  search  for  some  clothes. His  own  he  located  on  a  pile  in  the  corner,  but  they  were  all  but  useless.  His  shoes  alone  were  still  wearable.  Cold  and  exhausted as  he  was,  he  would  have  sunk  back  in  hope  to  get  warmer, but  his  throat was  dry  and  sore,  and  his  stomach cramped.  He  had  not  eaten  since  their  escape  from  his  ruined stronghold.  The  fumes  of  the  dragon  were  suffocating  and  poisonous,  and  the  smoke  seemed  to  have  burned their  throats,  those  who  had  been  exposed the  longest.  Maglor had  only  managed to  swallow  some  water  on  their  way.  In  all  the  confusion he  found  it  hard  to  count  how  many  days  they  had  been  running away.

Shaking  even  with  a  blanket  tossed over  his  shoulders, Maglor  ventured  unsteadily to  his  brother’s wardrobe.  He  found  clean  trousers and  a  belt,  a  shirt  and  a  thick  jacket. Dressing  up  proved to  be  a  challenge,  but  at  least  someone  had  covered  the  burns  with  bandages,  which  was  a  considerable  improvement. He  hadn’t    had  a  chance to  address  his  wounds  after  the  burning ceiling  beam  had  fallen  on  him  and  almost  trapped him,  so  his  torn  clothes rubbed  against  them  during  the  whole  way  to  Himring.

The  clothes helped  only  a  little  and  Maglor  was  still  shaking. Since  he  could  not  find  any  cloak  and  his  own  was  too  ruined to  use,  he  tossed  a  blanket  over  his  shoulders and  left.  He  intended  to  see  where  his  people were  and  if  they  had  been  provided with  everything,  but  before  he  went  downstairs, a  fit  of  coughing  made  him  double over.  Clutching  his  blanket  and  using  the  nearest  wall  as  support, he  reached  the  great  hall,  but  one  glance  was  enough  to  ensure  him  he  would  not  find  his  warriors there.  The  hall  had  been  adapted  for  a  temporary shelter  for  civilians, mostly  women  and  children.  There  were  cauldrons with  food  on  the  tables and  bedrolls  spread on  the  floor. Maglor  recognised  one  of  the  sleeping  boys,  his  father was  among  his  guards...  Had  been,  he  realised  with  a  pang  of  remorse and  looked  away.  There,  by  the  wall,  one  of  the  Sindar elleths  was  rocking a  noldorin  infant. He  vaguely  remember having  seen  the  child  being  rescued  from  a  broken, empty  wagon.  It  was  a  small  relief to  know  that  the  child  had  survived the  journey.  He  smiled  briefly as  the  elleth looked  up,  then  winced  and  stepped  back  on  the  corridor.

The  kitchens were  close.  Maglor slipped  inside  and  welcomed  the  inviting  heat  with  relief. Elves  were  working tirelessly  by  the  long  table, one  of  its  end  currently occupied  by  a  few  of  Maedhros’s  guards. There  were  cauldrons with  stew  boiling over  the  fire.

“What  do  you  need?” one  of  the  elleths  asked, clearly  not  recognising Maglor  as  she  looked  briefly over  the  bowl  she  was  carrying.  “There’s warm  food  in  the  refectory, I’ve  just  brought it,”  she  suggested. “Or  is  it  the  healers you’re  looking  for?”  

“No,”  whispered Maglor,  unsure  he  could  be  heard  in  the  commotion. He  came  closer to  the  table. “I  can’t-“  he  coughed  and  placed  his  good  hand  on  his  throat.

“Oh,  of  course,”  the  elleth  nodded in  understanding.  “Failien, where  is  that  soup?”  She  called  over  her  shoulder.

“Coming!”  One  of  the  elleths  working by  the  fire  poured  a  huge  mug  with  a  mushed  soup  and  turned around.  “My  lord  Kanafinwe!”  she  exclaimed  and  reached  them  hastily.  “Do  you  need  anything?  Shall  I  send  for  anyone?”

“No,”  Maglor rasped  and  coughed. He  took  the  mug  and  curled  his  cold  fingers around  it.  “Thank you.  Don’t  mind  me,  I’ll  be  gone  soon.”

His  stomach growled,  so  he  took  a  generous  sip  and  regretted it  just  as  quickly,  as  it  was  too  warm  for  his  raw  throat. Putting  the  soup  aside,  he  sank  miserably on  a  free  bench  standing by  the  wall.  It  was  delightfully  warm   and  Maglor  leaned against  it,  tugging the  blanket  closely. He  had  to  wait  for  the  soup  to  cool  down  anyway...

***

The  Gap  was  no  more.  Maglor’s city  was  burned to  the  ground, so  were  the  lands.  The  news  Maedhros had  managed  to  gather  from  Maglor’s  people was  full  of  despair  and  bore  little hope.  The  casualties were  great,  impossible for  now  to  assess.  He  learned  that  his  brother had  sent  messengers to  Curufin  and  Celegorm,  and  south  to  Caranthir  and  Amras,  but  there  was  no  way  of  knowing whether  they  had  reached  their  brothers  in  time  to  warn  them  against  the  upcoming  attack. With  the  dragon roaming  freely  and  destroying  everything on  his  way,  and  with  the  hoards of  orcs  and  other  nasty  creatures  of  Morgoth,  the  chances  were  small.  And  the  sheer  force  and  impact  of  the  attack suggested  the  enemy  was  not  going  to  withdraw  unless stopped.

Maedhros  dearly wished  he  could  gather  his  warriors  and  go  after  the  dragon and  the  orcs  that  dared  destroy  their  hard-earned  peace, but  it  was  impossible  for  now.  The  beast  the  refugees  spoke  of  was  greater  and  stronger  than  the  young  lizard  Fingon had  once  chased away.  Maedhros  knew  too  little to  risk  venturing and  emptying  the  fortress  of  all  the  soldiers.  There  were  too  many  wounded among  Maglor’s  people and  they  needed time  to  heal  before  they  could  aid  Himring’s  crew  and  reinforce the  defences.  

For  now  he  settled for  sending  patrols great  in  number to  check  the  neighbourhood  for  any  possible survivors.  And  though his  hand  itched for  a  sword, Maedhros  decided  to  remain  within his  fortress  rather than  to  join  his  people. There  was  too  much  to  do  to  leave  it  to  Vorindon only.  The  structure of  the  fortress had  to  be  rearranged  to  find  accommodation for  all  the  refugees,  the  weakest  parts  of  the  stronghold  had  to  be  refreshed.  Maedhros needed  a  complex plan,  but  for  now  it  seemed  they  were  only  reacting  to  the  problems at  hand,  finding temporary  solutions  to  wield  the  chaos  just  enough  to  allow  any  actual  planning to  take  place.

With  all  that,  a  sudden  break  took  Maedhros by  surprise.  Silence fell  on  the  walls,  nobody came  with  reports or  questions.  The  courtyard  seemed almost  abandoned,  with  the  wounded transported  already  to  the  healing wards.  Only  the  wagons,  now  almost  empty, stood  witness  to  the  earlier commotion.  Horses  had  been  taken  care  of,  people  had  been  ushered inside.  It  seemed the  whole  fortress was  resting  after  a  busy  night,  but  it  was  just  an  impression.  Inside the  walls,  some  were  indeed resting  and  gathering strength  after  the  desperate  escape, but  others  were  still  working tirelessly  -  healers, cooks  and  warriors alike.  It  seemed though  that  nobody needed  their  commander at  the  moment, so  Maedhros  decided to  use  the  break  while  he  could. Only  now  did  he  realise when  was  the  last  time  he  had  eaten.  Since  the  refectory served  temporarily  as  a  sleeping place  and  there  was  little space  for  anything, let  alone  gathering for  a  meal  like  they  normally  would, Maedhros  headed  directly for  the  kitchens. He  intended  to  grasp  some  food  and  check  on  his  brother. He  had  not  received  any  alarming  news  concerning  his  state,  so  he  assumed Maglor  was  resting and  hoped  they  could  talk  soon.

As  soon  as  he  entered  the  kitchens,  he  spotted  his  brother’s  familiar silhouette.  Maglor  was  sleeping,  crooked, leaning  against  the  chimney,  with  a  cocoon of  a  colourful blanket  around  his  arms.  Maedhros reached  him  quickly and  almost  tripped a  mug  standing dangerously  close  to  the  edge  of  the  bench.

“Kano.”  Leaning, he  placed  his  hand  on  Maglor’s  good  shoulder.  “Makalaure,  wake  up.”

“Mmmm,”  the  singer  muttered incoherently  and  coughed, grasping  the  edges  of  the  blanket  slipped from  his  shoulders.

“What  are  you  doing  here?”  asked  Maedhros  and  brushed  away  tussled  hair  from  his  brother’s  face,  careful  not  to  touch  the  dried  ointment  on  his  cheek. “Kano,  do  you  know  where  you  are?”

“Kitchen,”  Maglor rasped  and  opened his  eyes  reluctantly. “You  killed  the  dragon?”

“What?”  Maedhros shook  his  head  in  surprise. “No,  whatever  gave  you  that  idea?”

“Wake  me  when  you’re done,”  Maglor  closed his  eyes  again  and  curled.

“And  meanwhile you  will  be  sleeping  in  the  kitchen?” Maedhros  arched  an  eyebrow.  “No  way,  there  is  enough space  in  my  rooms  for  both  of  us.”

Maglor  sighed and  looked  up.  “Forgot  how  bloody  cold  it  is  here,”  he  complained  so  quietly  his  brother  could  barely  hear  him.

Cold.  Maedhros cursed  when  he  realised  it  was  the  chill  that  had  chased his  brother  from  his  rooms, as  probably  someone had  forgotten  to  fuel  the  fire.  It  was  hardly surprising  in  all  the  mess  they  were  still  trying to  wield,  but  the  heat  was  highly desirable,  if  the  way  Maglor pressed  his  back  against  the  chimney  was  any  indication.

“Now  that  can  be  fixed,”  Maedhros promised  him.  He  fished  one  of  guards who  had  just  finished  eating and  sent  him  to  have  the  fire  lit  and  the  bed  warmed.  Seeing that  Maglor  was  now  a  bit  more  awake,  he  picked  the  mug  that  was  a  little  beyond his  reach  and  took  a  sip.

“Ugh.  It’s  cold,”  he  made  a  face  and  intended  to  ask  someone to  add  some  hot  soup,  but  Maglor snatched  the  mug  from  his  grasp.

“Good.  Maybe  I  can  swallow  that.”

Maedhros  left  his  brother sipping  the  soup  carefully  and  ventured  for  some  food.  After  so  many  hours  of  keeping vigil  in  the  cold,  he  too  could  feel  the  chill  creeping on  him,  so  he  gladly accepted  a  bowl  of  hot  stew.  He  sat  next  to  Maglor and  having  placed the  bowl  on  his  knees, ate,  glancing  at  his  brother from  time  to  time.

“Any  better?” he  inquired  quietly when  Maglor  put  his  mug  aside  and  curled  again.

“Cold,”  he  whispered.  “Where are  my  men?” Maedhros  let  out  an  exasperated snort.  “Everywhere.  Alcarino is  taking  care  of  the  wounded,  the  civilians  are  being  accommodated. Vorindon  took  those  who  can  join  my  people  in  defenses,”  he  explained  shortly, watching  his  brother with  concern.  After  a  moment in  the  kitchen he  was  already sweaty  in  his  robes,  yet  Maglor  was  still  shaking. His  eyes  were  glassy,  his  breathing  shallow and  Maedhros  didn’t like  the  unhealthy flush  on  his  cheeks.  But  the  most  significant  was  the  fact  that  Maglor didn’t  care  at  all  where  he  had  chosen  to  rest.  “We’ll talk  later,  Kano.  Now  I  think  Alcarino should  take  a  look  at  you.”

Maglor  only  nodded  and  rose  slowly. A  sharp  hiss  escaped  his  lips.  Seeing how  unsteady  he  was  on  his  feet,  Maedhros  put  his  arm  around  his  back,  careful not  to  touch  his  brother’s right  side.  Maglor leaned  on  him  heavily as they walked towards the temporary healing ward.

[joculatrick]

she-ra...but it's avatar....

au time babey

it's in the time of sozin + roku (it fits a lot better shh)

catra + adora grow up in the fire nation

they're in an elite soldier training program they were inducted into at 5

sw is their supervisor, a water bender that defected from the nwt for power

they never knew their parents

both are stars of the program, adora first and catra a persistent second despite her unique blue firebending

at one point in their late teens they go exploring farther from base than usual, deep into some woods bordering the ocean

adora starts to hear whispers. ancient voices telling her she has a purpose and worth outside of being a soldier, telling her to do something she doesnt quite catch

catra pulls her away, distrustful of the idea of voices and change and tries to dissuade adora from returning, and to avoid upsetting her adora pretends to concede

of course, she does return, and the voices coax her into bending air and discovering she's the avatar

shocked to her core, having been told that the avatar died out, adora is at a loss

suddenly she's wrapped in ocean water and out spring glimmer, the daughter of the chieftess of the water tribe, and her nonbender bff bow

the 2 snuck off a northern water tribe ship sent to spy on the growing fire nation army

delighted to have caught an elite soldier of said army, glimmer and bow are totally hostile towards their hostage

pleading with her captors, adora says she's the avatar and bends fire and air (a lil bit, shes a beginner)

bow and glimmer's jaws drop. the world had been alert for the avatar but the fire nation had claimed that a new one was never born so the world mourned

confused but warming to adora, b + g take her back to the ship and immediately their captain strikes a course back the nwt

on the way they discover how sheltered and abused adora was and start helping her heal, as well as bonding!! adora tries to bend water on the way but has very little success, it is her opposite after all

bfs rolls up to angella, leader of the nwt

unsurprisingly she's not eager to trust

but after some time, everyone basically adopts adora the avatar because she's just that lovable

meanwhile, in the fire nation...

with adora absent, catra finally gets to be first and graduates top in her program, becoming a commander of her former classmates

she feels utterly betrayed and abandoned by adora and takes on the task of hunting down and delivering the avatar to firelord hordak with vigor

she's accompanied in the task by scorpia, who as daughter of 2 general moms felt she had to inherit the mantle even though she's not much of a fighter

even though scorpia's a commander herself she's infatuated with catra and follows her command

eccentric IT genius entrapta, who built herself 2 prehensile arms attached to her back via harness, is often consulting the 2 and strikes up a friendship with them (super pal trio for life!)

now, back to the best friend squad and element learning:

adora's waterbending teachers are princesses glimmer of the northern tribe and mermista of the southern tribe!

glimmer is a talented bender but never the master her mom is no matter how much she struggles

she is a much better leader though, as well as a good friend

obviously adora struggles a lot with water, and that coupled with the nwt recieving dire messages from their sister tribe prompts the bfs to travel to the south pole

once there, they discover that the fire nation has been raiding the swt

after sending a message to her mother for northern reinforcements, glimmer and squad invite mermista, daughter of the chief and ridiculously talented water bender, to the group

(glimmer imagines herself mermista's rival and pushes herself wayyyyy too hard to try and top her. eventually, with reassurance and camaraderie with adora, she gets over it)

from there, the princesses + bow (as bow teasingly calls them) start the long trip to the earth kingdom

along the way - bonding, shenanigans including adopting pirate comedian seahawk, flirting (adora to glim, unknowingly, glim gay panics) ((seahawk to everybody)), bending practice (adora finally makes bubbles! and waves! she's ecstatic and splashes everyone constantly)

finally, they arrive at the earth kingdom!

it's adora's first time seeing a bustling city not made of ice and she generally just looks around in awe (glim thinks it's adorable)

how adora wishes she could share it with catra.

as representatives of the northern and southern water tribes, and the avatar of course, the group is invited to a fancy ball hosted by a powerful family

there, adora and fam run into catra, there as rep from the fire nation. there's dancing. and lots of gay tension.

the host of the ball is none other than frosta, recently orphaned and secret master earth bender (I went more based on personality than Princess Ability for the elements of the alliance members, and if you make a couple logical science jumps earthbenders could bend ice)

after adora and crew fend off some burglars that interrupt the ball, frosta is enamored and begs to join the group and teach adora earthbending

she does just that, with a healthy dose of tough love

at this point, the bfs are seasoned friends and formidable fighters

unfortunately, after a timely break and a few vacations, the pals hear a devastating message. "the fire nation attacked the north pole, trying the capture the moon spirit to control the source of water bending. the attack failed, but only because angella gave her life to stop it."

stunned, the group returns to the north pole. bonds are tested under the weight of glimmer's grief and impending responsibility.

once there, glimmer has her coronation ceremony and becomes distant and stressed, bending over the weight of a whole tribe to lead

after a tough couple months, adora feels her last element calling to her. glimmer pleads her to stay and help defend her nation but adora needs space to breathe, and doesnt feel confident as a protective force without well rounded bending knowledge. she leaves. bow accompanies her

the 2 journey to the western air temple, the closest to the fire nation, because it just feels right to adora. bow worries.

there they find perfuma, stalwart gardener and accomplished airbending student, the mysterious madame razz, and a young dragon named swift wind

perfuma teaches through learning WITH adora, and this method really helps adora find confidence and some inner peace, away from the chaos and demands of her life

finally having an animal companion also helps! he's fun loving and flies while she glides and is an excellent listener

madame razz speaks in riddles, but she helps adora learn about her past lives and the chakras. throughout this process adora accepts a lot of what makes her her, but she gets stuck on letting go of attachment

letting go of her friends, her found family, is tough, very tough, but even after she manages that she's still not there. there's only one face she sees and she doesn't understand how she hasn't let her go yet

meanwhile, in the fire nation...

the attack on the nwt was a huge success, mainly due to catra's tactics

however, her habit of challenging authority left her in a tough spot with firelord hordak from the beginning, and her control of this last battle was the last straw

he challenges her to an agni kai, claiming she undermined his authority

she wins

keeping sw as an advisor, she takes command, and her first target? the western air temple

all together now!

in the midst of adora's training, catra strikes

she slashes adora's confidence, back, and progress on letting go of attachment

the chakra is locked

catra ends up defeated, but only just, and only because glimmer showed up with a ship full of water benders and scorpia and entrapta defect

meanwhile, charismatic political leader prime leads his followers in an uprising, kidnapping catra and glimmer after the battle ends

captive at prime's estate on a faraway island, catra and glimmer bond over adora, rashness, and isolation. it's rough but at least they're not alone

desperate to save glimmer, adora and bow pile on swift wind and start searching for the elusive island

when they arrive, catra creates a distraction and frees glimmer, sending her to adora with a message not to return

the bfs is finally reunited, but adora is missing something. she confesses she wants to rescue catra and glimmer is right with her

with adora on the attack, sw bloodbends catra to fight her, finally throwing catra off a cliff. adora follows

shifting into the avatar state through pure rage, adora heals catra, beats sw, and takes catra home

catra bonds with the bfs and starts to heal, and her and adora slowly return to their flirty best friendship

glimmer and catra flirt up a storm "as a joke" (the only ones they fool are eachother)

adora knows they'll have to defeat prime. there will never be peace with him in power

they come up with a plan, but it mainly relies on adora sacrificing herself. adora knows it's her pupose

catra can't stay and watch, she can't

adora is heart broken

on her way to prime, she has a vision of catra, its tender and loving and it hurts

catra comes back. she passes glimmer and bow guarding the way. glimmer hugs her

right before adora enters the throne room, catra pulls her back

she kisses her

adora finally understands, and becomes a fully realized avatar, and uses the avatar state with control to defeat prime

catra and adora and glimmer and bow watch their world blossom with a new peace

[misstinfoilhat]

The Boy in the Belfry Pt. 10, a Bungo Stray Dogs fic.

Dazai limped as fast as he could over the garden at the grand estate that had been his home for the past three years.

He had been good. He had been so good. Done everything they told him too. Spoke when told to speak, shut up when told to shut up. Fucking barked when told to bark.

But, even he had his limits.

Kill when told to kill. No, he just couldn't. How could they expect him to kill a defenseless animal?

The dog had been caged. It looked so defeated. Given up, abused, tired, starving, just like himself. They might as well tell him to kill himself. But he knew they would never give him that satisfaction.

He had lost count of how many times he had tried now. Nothing ever worked. Hanging, overdosing, drowning, starving, cutting his main artery, bag over the head and stabbed himself. 

Once, he'd been so desperate that he tried to bash himself to death by slamming his head repeatedly into a brick wall. Obviously, which he realized after the fact, he hadn't been in his right mind. It should have been pretty clear that he would lose consciousness long before he would actually die.

He could never do anything right.

Oh god, that poor dog. Stumbling down a small hill between Kouyou's flowerbeds, he ran towards the gazebo and huddled down behind it, drawing his sore knees to his chest, resting his sling-bound arm in his lap behind them and buried his face in the arm he left on top of his knees.

'Excellent camouflage, stupid- no one will ever find you here', he ridiculed himself, but couldn't move. His breathing was too quick and before doing anything else, he just needed to calm down.

“Hey kiddo, you alright there?”

Dazai startled and pressed his back against the gazebo as his head snapped up towards the sound.

It was a young man, older than himself. He was tall, had auburn hair, beard stubbles on his cheeks and greyish eyes that looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern.

Dazai couldn't remember ever seeing him before, and his tan coat didn't fit in with the black ones usually worn by the members of the Port Mafia. That didn't mean he could be trusted, though. Or maybe it meant he definitely couldn't trust him. 

Shit, he didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.  

“You okay? You looked a little distraught over here,” the man smiled and crouched down in front of him, his arm moving from his side and proceeded towards Dazai.

Dazai quickly braced himself for whatever he was going to do to him, but was surprised when his rowdy bangs were gently brushed away from his face.

With weary eyes, Dazai peeked up on the man, still guarded.

“My name is Sakunosuke Oda, but, most people just call me Oda.”

His smile didn't budge. It was unnerving for Dazai. The only smile he was used to was Mori's twisted plastered-on and stiff grin. This one seemed… genuine?

Could that really be, in this house of horror?  He decided not to say anything yet, just to be safe.

Oda chuckled mildly. “I'm new. I just got hired. You don't have to be shy.”

Voices were heard closing in on them, yelling Dazai’s name in an indecipherable tone. Dazai curled more tightly in on himself.

“Is that you? Dazai?” Oda asked, and looked towards where the voices were coming from.

“You probably shouldn't be seen with me,” Dazai's said weakly, peeking up from where he had placed his face against his knees. “You might get in trouble.”

Oda looked at him with keening eyes, before getting up and meeting Mori as he turned the corner to the gazebo.

“Oh,” Mori exclaimed. “Sakunosuke Oda. How nice to see you again.”

“Dr. Mori,” he smiled. “I just had the pleasure of meeting this bright young man,” he said, gesturing to the trembling boy in the grass.

“Really? Yes, he certainly is a brilliant young man. Now, if you will excuse us, we have some training to get back to.” 

Mori's eyes hardened as he looked down at Dazai. “Come on, Dazai. Recess is over.”

Dazai got up on shaky knees, obediently following his mentor back to the house. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he could see Oda give him a short wave, looking deep in thought as they disappeared back towards the mansion.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The dog wasn't as defenseless as Dazai had thought.

The furry body laid, finally unmoving, in a bloodied pile. A few feet in front of the cadaver, sat Dazai in his own pool of blood with his back turned away from it,

His body was covered in bites and scratches. Most noticeably, his face had several bleeding wounds, and his inner thigh had a deep bite mark.

He sobbed quietly, holding the small butter knife he'd been given as his only weapon in a tight grip. The taste of bile was in his mouth, and he could only shift slightly before his stomach churned and he retched and started to throw up all over the floor and himself.

As soon as his belly had settled, he scooted away from the vomit and further from the carcass before he hurled the knife with all the force that was left in his battered body to the wall. It chimed sharply as it bounced off of it and landed somewhere behind him.

The sobbing was less quiet now, but he didn't care. He wanted to scream until his voice gave out. Wanted to shout and curse and cry and laugh and... die. 

He just wanted this to be over.

If only Master Mori would come back and let him out soon. See how good he had done. Maybe then... it wouldn't be so bad. Mori always praised him when doing good, and he had, hadn't he?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He'd been sitting there for several hours, but Mori had still not shown up. The floor was cold and his entire body was covered in goosebumps- blood and goosebumps. 

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to travel to his happy place.

It was in the garden, except, the mansion wasn't there. He imagined that it had burned down with everyone in the Port Mafia still in it. He had locked the doors himself.

It was just him and Chuuya, teasing each other, laughing and playing soccer. How long had it been since they had been allowed to play together? Probably more than a year. They were still talking, studying together sometimes, but, they were never able to actually enjoy themselves anymore.

To his surprise, a tan coat appeared in the picture. The auburn hair waving slightly in the refreshing wind, smiling reassuringly at them and standing with his hands in his pockets.

How he wished he had that coat now...

Dazai snapped back to reality.  But, not to the dark room with the dead dog. 

No, the reality.

The reality where Chuuya and himself had been bitter enemies for years. The reality where Oda was dead. The reality where his father had seemingly rose from his grave.

The reality where he was chained to the wall in the belfry, just like he had been as a child.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The first place Kunikida wanted the agency to look, was at the dorms. History tended to repeat itself. Even if he had his doubts, he wouldn't do the mistake of not checking, like the last time.

He sent Tanizaki and Naomi to check there (actually, he had sent Tanizaki to check, but he would not get into whatever fucked-up relationship the two siblings had when Naomi automatically followed).

Initially, he had tried to send Ranpo and Kenji to the hospital to search for any leads over there, but Ranpo had blatantly refused. He thought his abilities were needed elsewhere. So, in his place, he had to send Kyouka.

Fukuzawa had an important meeting but told them to call him whenever they found something of importance, and that he would be there as soon as possible if he was needed.

That left himself, Atsushi, Yosano, and Ranpo.

Kunikida thought carefully through their next step. He knew they needed to go back to that ominous church. Also, it would probably (unfortunately) be useful to make another phone call to that unbelievably condescending mafioso, Nakahara Chuuya. If nothing else, just to let him know what was going on. Something told Kunikida that he wouldn't be the worst person to have on their side in a potential confrontation. Either with the stubborn idiot or potentially, his attacker.

“So, Ranpo. What do you think?” he asked, turning to the brown-clad man, sitting with his legs folded on his desk with a lollipop in his mouth.

“I never thought you would ask,” he grinned and reached ceremoniously for his black-rimmed glasses, imagining the air around him shifting into a small whirlwind swirling around his body and mumbling the name of his 'ability' ultra-deduction.

The rest of the group acted impressed and cheered him on, a little less eagerly than usual.

“He didn't escape by himself this time. Considering his injuries, and the complications of them after his last escape, he is in no way able to move around by himself. He was abducted.” Ranpo hesitated and took off his glasses with a frown, to the other's confusion.

“They must be defected or something,” he said, wiping off the glass and peering at them suspiciously.

“What did you see?” Atsushi asked.

“I didn't,” he confessed. “Well, kinda. I'm not sure.”

“Just... tell us. Maybe it will be useful, even if your glasses are... broken,” Kunikida tried.

Ranpo hesitated while his teeth started to crunch as he began to chew at the lollipop.

“I don't know...”

“Oh come on!” Kunikida snapped. Yosano's hand grabbed his shoulder painfully tight, letting her nails bury themselves into his skin.

“Sweety,” she said pleasantly. “It would probably be more helpful if you told us what you think than nothing at all. Maybe we could piece something together.”

Ranpo sighed. “Okay. Well, I think that Dazai might have been raised in a strictly religious household, based on his knowledge of bible passages and prayers. And, I guess that it possibly could have something to do with whoever pushed him from the Shinja Church. That makes it fairly possible that the church has something to do with his past. Maybe his father was a preacher?”

“That actually makes sense,” Kunikida mumbled.

“It could also explain why Dazai has most of his body covered with bandages. It's no secret that Dazai has hurt himself a great deal. We've all witnessed his creative ways of trying to end himself, so it's not a greatly hidden secret that he has a lot of scars, so why cover them up?” Ranpo thought out loud.

“What do you mean?” Atsushi asked, sitting down on a nearby chair. He didn't like this kind of talk about his mentor and wasn't sure if his legs would hold if something more gruesome was revealed. “It's not like the Christian church hasn't had a history of pretty torturous violence. If his father was an extremist, which isn't unlikely considering the specific Bible verses Dazai resited in his sleep...”

Atsushi was starting to pale. “That's enough,” Kunikida said sternly. “We've... heard enough. Atsushi; I want you to call the others and ask them to meet us at the Shinja church when they have completed their tasks. They probably won't find anything, but we need to make sure. Let's get to the cars. No matter if Ranpo is right or not, we have no time to lose...”

[snappedsky]

Fanatics Adventures in Space Part 10

The Battalion battles Irken soldiers. Previous! Next!

--

War Part Three

           Squee pulls on his goggles before zooming through the doorway towards the killer robots. He weaves around their lasers and stops facing their backs, quickly examining them with his calculating eyes. Just as one starts to whip around to fire at him, he takes off again and joins his team back inside Mar’s house.

           “I don’t see any weak points,” he says, “and my knives definitely won’t cut through that metal.”

           “They look top heavy,” Dib comments as he glances at the bots between blasts. “If we take out their legs, we can knock them onto their faces.”

           “And smash their heads,” Gaz adds.

           “Right, let’s move!” Pepito booms and dives through the door. He rolls behind one of the metals walls in the yard and takes cover. The others are quick to follow, narrowly dodging the laser blasts.

           Dib pokes his head out of cover and starts firing with his power glove, focusing on a single robot leg. It takes a couple shots before it’s blown off and he ducks back down.

           “They are robust,” he comments.

           Squee pops out and throws a Smiley Bomb, it rolls underneath another bot before exploding. The blast seems to cover the whole bot, but when the smoke clears, only two of its legs are gone.

           “No kidding,” he agrees.

           Gaz remains ducked down, watching the bots from around the corner of wall while they fire relentlessly. Her eyes widen when she spots a piece chip off the metal wall.

           “Guys! Our cover is gonna get blown, literally!” she warns.

           “Everyone focus on one bot!” Pepito orders, “we’ll work our way down the line instead of destroying them all at once.”

           “Yeah, but also!” Squee adds, “only destroy the legs on the right side!”

           Everyone nods. Dib and Pepito focus their blasts on the first bot on the left while Squee tosses in a bomb or two every couple seconds. They quickly manage to destroy almost all of its legs, leaving only two on its left side. It loses its balance and falls into the bot beside it, which causes all of them to topple like dominoes. And the firing ceases.

           “Nice!” Dib cheers.

           “Time to smash their heads!” Gaz barks as she jumps over the wall and races to the pile of bots, hammer held high. Pepito and Dib quickly follow while Squee stays back to watch.

           The bot on the top of the pile starts to lift its cannon arm to fire again but Pepito stabs his spear through it and then Dib grabs its shoulder and blasts it off with his power glove. Then Gaz steps in and smashes it head with one hammer swing.

           The three of them make quick work of the bots, destroying their lasers and their heads. When they’re finished, they step back and Squee tosses in a few Smiley Bombs. They destroy the bots’ remains, scattering them across the yard.

           “Nice. Sweet. Alright,” the four of them comment and congratulate each other as they watch the smoke clear. Meanwhile, Zim, Kio, and Mar have watched the whole thing from inside the house. Kio is smiling proudly while Zim and Mar are speechless, their jaws hanging open.

           “Wow,” Mar comments, “I didn’t think those little aliens had it in them.”

           “They’ve…gotten better,” Zim mutters.

           “Of course they have,” Kio says, “they’ve been training all those last months in anticipation for this. To help you, Zim. They knew what they were getting into. We all did.”

           Zim stares at her, shocked for a second, before looking back at his team. He didn’t notice before but it looks like they’ve gotten…taller.

           He watches them forlornly.

           Outside, the kids are still congratulating each other on a job well done when a sound reaches their ears. Everyone looks up at the sky as a ship flies by and multiple objects drop down.

           A group of about twenty armoured Irkens land on the ground in front of them. The kids look at them with surprise before the Irkens each lift large bazooka-like guns and start firing.

           “Whoa whoa!” Pepito exclaims before creating an energy force field. The lasers explode against it and he struggles to keep it up.

           “Fall back!” Kio orders.

           “Go!” Pepito tells the others. Dib, Gaz, and Squee race back into the house but Pepito stays put, struggling to hold up the shield.

           Zim growls and runs out, his spider legs extending from his PAK. Two of them stretch out and create a force field just behind Pepito’s while the other two wrap around his midsection. They tug him back and he drops his force field. Zim keeps his up until they’re both back in the house and they dive away from the door.

           “Reinforcements sure showed up fast,” Pepito comments as he rubs his arms.

           “The drones have built in cameras,” Mar explains, “reinforcements would’ve been on their way as soon as they saw you winning.”

           “Well, soldiers oughta be easier to beat than bots, right?” Dib questions.

           “Hardly,” she scoffs, “the drones are used for capture or fodder. The soldiers are built to destroy.”

           “They got the drop on us anyway,” Squee adds, “and if they were watching the cameras, then they know what to expect.”

           “I’m gonna call for help,” Kio says as she grabs a radio from her belt.

           Everyone screams with surprise as a small hole is blown through the wall just above their heads.

           “Make it quick, Kio,” Zim orders as they stare at it fearfully.

           Meanwhile, the Resisty ship floats just outside Irk’s atmosphere. Most of the crew along with Johnny, Devi, Tenna, Skoodge, Gir, and Minimoose have stayed in the bridge since the Battalion left. Everyone’s tense as they wait for some kind, any kind of news from Kio.

            Lard Nar nearly topples out of his command chair when his communicator goes off. Everyone looks at him with surprise when he turns it on.

           “Kio?” he questions.

           “Nar!” she cries. Her voice can barely be heard over a cacophony of blast shots and shouting. “Irken soldiers have us pinned! We need help! The cover won’t last much longer!”

           “Uh uh wh-what should I-?” Nar starts to ask frantically.

           “Send down something! Anything!” she begs before a loud smash is heard and she cuts out.

           “Kio? Kio!” Nar exclaims but she doesn’t respond. He breathes heavily with panic for a second before shaking it off and standing up in his chair.

           “Alright, everyone! Our comrades are in danger!” he booms, “who will go down and fight by their side?”

           Nobody says anything.

           “Guys, come on,” he whines, “they need help.”

           “You expect us to fight Irken soldiers?” one of the officers questions, “we’d be lucky if we make it through the atmosphere.”

           “Yeah but we have to do something,” Nar points out, “otherwise they’ll be captured or worse!”

           “We all knew this was a terrible idea,” Spleenk mutters.

           “There has to be something we can do, anything!” Nar begs hopelessly.

           “Send me down,” Johnny states.

           “Huh?” Everyone looks at him with surprise as he steps forward.

           “Put me in one of those escape pods and send me down near their coordinates,” he says, “I’ll even the odds.”

           “B-But planet security is on red alert now,” Nar points out, “an escape pod won’t be able to sneak through again.”

           “So?” Nny argues, “aren’t you supposed to like outsmart the Irkens or something? Find a way to break through.”

           Nar stares at him with uncertainty for a second before he grows thoughtful and he looks away, rubbing his chin.

           “Spleenk!” he barks, pointing dramatically. “Ready the mortar cannon!”

           “Sir?” Spleenk questions.

           “We are gonna blast Irk’s force field,” Nar declares, “and in between the blasts, we will send Johnny through in a pod.”

           “Now you’re talking,” Nny smirks.

           “B-but the security will know right away who’s firing!” one of the officer’s points out.

           “We will worry about that after we make sure Johnny is through the atmosphere,” Nar orders, “now do as I say.”

           The control room gets all in a tizzy as Spleenk readies the mortar cannon.

           “C-cannon ready, sir,” he squeaks.

           “Good. Johnny, get in an escape pod,” Nar orders.            Nny does a half salute as he goes over to the escape ships. Devi, Tenna, and Skoodge quickly follow him.

           “Are you sure about this?” Devi asks.

           “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have suggested it,” he replies as he climbs inside.

           “I’m coming too!” Skoodge declares as he hops inside.

           “No you’re not,” Nny grunts and tosses him into Tenna’s arms. The hatch closes before anyone can argue.

           “Escape pod coordinates set for a few feet from Kio’s position,” an officer declares.

           “Good,” Nar nods, “Spleenk, begin firing.”

           Spleenk whimpers and presses the button.

          Missiles begin firing from the Resisty ship and explode against the force field surrounding Irk. It suddenly lights up red.

           “Send the pod!” Nar barks.

           Johnny’s escape pod takes off. The sudden force shoves him into his seat and he smiles excitedly as he disappears into the smoke from the missile explosions. Meanwhile, drones have released from nearby watch towers surrounding the planet and are flying to the Resisty ship.

           “Hold,” Lard Nar orders as they approach the ship. Large laser cannons fold out of the drones’ undercarriages and aim at them. “Hold.”

           Resisty officers whimper and hug each other as the cannons charge up.

           Shloonktapooxis cracks open his eye and glances at a screen when it lights up.

           “The pod has broken through the atmosphere!” he shouts.

           “Retreat!” Nar shrieks.

           The drones begin firing as the ship twists around and flies off. Lasers explode against the hull and the drones give chase.

          Meanwhile back on Irk’s surface, the soldiers have blasted through the front of Mar’s home. She and the Battalion are clustered against the back of the building behind Zim’s force field. The soldiers have finally stopped firing and approach, guns still at the ready. Everyone glares at them.

           “Defect Zim, illegal aliens, retiree Mar,” one of them says, “give yourselves up or be killed.”

           “I mean, you’re just gonna kill us anyway, so,” Dib shrugs.

           The aliens take aim. Everyone braces themselves.

           Just as they start to fire, something whizzes down from the sky and crashes into the ground, crushing over half of the army. The remaining soldiers whip around, shocked, while Mar and the kids perk up.

           The smoke and dust clears, revealing a Vortian escape pod. The hatch opens but it’s too dark to see inside.

           Before the Irkens can wonder what’s going on, a large knife flies out of the darkness and smashes through a soldier’s helmet. They fall back, dead.

           The soldier’s aim at the pod but find themselves unable to fire as a lanky alien steps out, a knife in each hand, and dark eyes like they’ve never seen.

           Johnny’s boots crunch the remains of the crushed Irkens beneath his ship. And then he strikes.

[bluepenguinstories]

Intention Headaches Chapter Five

Author's Note: All rhymes are unintentional. Anyone making a reference to Mark Twain will be shot on sight.

For Annie, Who Got a Leg Up in the Arms Race

I

Down the chute, a rabbit's hole of catatonic cold steel, a metallic, far-reaching tunnel in which she took a fall, far below. She didn't quite make her landing, not the pageantry coaches would hope from a human prized possession.

She awoke beside a raggedy man, scattered on the floor in a cell unused for ages, all she could see with her weary eyes was a pile of bones, his bones. She moaned because her left leg, no longer functional. Fractured and fragmented, the segments, joints, now disjointed. Beside her, the man, his bones near him, spoke:

“What is your name?” He was a head and a torso, though torso with bones beside the casing of an upper body. Same for the legs, but she tried to pay no mind to the old bones.

“Annie,” was her reply. “Animal crackers in my soup, hee-hee, hoo-hoo,” a laugh and a howl and a toot from the man, adorned, a raggedy hat. “Are you an orphan, too?” Annie shook her head. An orphan, not yet was what her head said without realizing that at a certain age, the death of a parent is a natural case of inevitability and not a case of orphanage.

Howls as well from the pain she was in. Trouble, bare, lonesome. Movements a torture.

“Annie, are you okay?” He asked her. And no, she would say. It was her leg. He would say: What a sorry state, Annie and her leg and this old bag of bones.

It was her turn to ask who it was she shared a cell with in a long abandoned encampment for imprisonment, now a relic or a reminder of how even new technologies reach old age.

“Why, I'm the gaoler.” Yes, outside. Guards and guardians. Relics. The whole lot of them. Crime is a relic, so is the punishment.

She found her footing, also in pain was her foot; a sprain, her ankle yet she inched her way to the top until she stood on her two legs (one broken) and faced the man in rags to ask but one thing:

“Are you with the church?”

His eyes lit a signal flare, lithium or mercury, Annie didn't see what the difference would be. Annie, you are hurt, soothing words spoken by a face, tall and pious. You need healing.

He picked himself up as well a literal and figurative gesture. Severed hand picked up the arm bone, the leg bone connected to the hip bone and the torso, oh the torso. No, never matter, never mind the basics. Just a fully formed figure, flesh and bone.

Man stood tall, hand bony and skeletal reaching back to his back and digging within, pulling out a spine – a torso now slumped over, slouched without. Able and moving with wire. Meanwhile, arm holding the spine, spine now a whip, a weapon which in his words, could be used for healing. As he put it, “the church heals by killing.” So she knew, it all wrong. Annie bolted, more of a limp, pain all along the way. Annie searched for some sort of safety, a skeletal protection.

II

Somewhere, much further below Annie and the saintly man, came a tortoise and a porcupine, arrived by elevator ride. Having taken hostage guards, runners of relics, at gunpoint. Porcupine and Tortoise, engaged in a mission to seek a map buried within the walls, engaged in conversation.

“I think Sylvie and I are on the rocks” whined Porcupine, holding the ice.

Tortoise was nary a speaker, instead a man whose purpose was to carry baggage. Mule-man, mealy-mouthed, some may call him. Porcupine paid no mind.

“So get this: she asked, 'are you having an affair?' and my response was, 'if you mean if I have love for another woman, the truth is that in my heart is every woman.' She didn't seem to like that answer.”

“Uh-huh.” Was a tortoise-shell reply. Tortoise knew that the lack of reply was a bad reply, so set down supplies and got down on one knee to meet the Porcupine's callous feet.

“No need to lick my boots,” Porcupine surmised. “I just need a good listener. We make a great team.”

Kindred Plath spirits marched, hostage in hand Tortoise with bag on back. Porcupine with the piercings. Large room, empty space, came into view. Each of them stopped, including the guards. One guard warned of the warden. Another, the pet. On the far side of the room, an old dog's carcass.

Porcupine warned to the guard that anything less than silence and it was lights out. Fluorescent room, despite outside, pure blackness. Inside solar power from an artificial sun, somewhere in the center of it all. Somewhere never to be visited.

Tortoise must have wondered what the map was for and the purpose for the mission, but that wonder faded. All a Tortoise needed was to get a mission done because any deed given was a deed needed indeed.

Porcupine and Tortoise in synchronization kicked the two guards and barked not minding the carcass of the dog on the far end. Instead, making a demand: “If you don't tell us the location of the map” but instead of detailing the threat, the animal friends noticed the door they came in, now barred shut by a steel grating, and in front of that a wreath of blue flame, a denial of exit.

III

Annie found refuge in the remains of an old storage closet, with cracked glass yet soundproof walls. So lucky if it were bulletproof, yet out of luck if not boneproof. Not to dwell on the damage dealt, instead to assess the current situation, Annie insisted.

Outside the functional but damaged walls, all through the halls erupted cracks and hisses, the rattling of a spine dancing across the floor and making its damages known to all through the empty halls. Annie heard:

“Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” Laughter from the man who couldn't quite keep it all together, and just as well, continuation. “Will you tell us that you're okay, Annie?”

She would not tell him a single word. Instead, she muttered about her mother, seeing the status on the hologram monitor above her arm the unfortunate news about her leg. “Mother is not going to like this,” she muttered.

“Damn right, I'm not!” Sexton's leader appeared as the image on a screen, floating above her right arm. No static, crystal clear, as if listening to a waterfall, a stream, or a pebble drop in a creek. “I made you into the perfect daughter and you go and damage your leg? Now how are you supposed to use it?” On the screen, she could see her mother shaking her head in disapproval and frustration.

“Sorry, it was a miscalculation.” Indeed, within her left leg, the hydraulics were jammed. None of the shells within her lower left leg could be fired were the leg to be detached. She shook her head and tossed the leg aside, hoping to a higher being that the one with the church had not heard.

“You just discarded your leg, you ungrateful child!” Her words were steam, heat, unbalanced kinetic energy. “You were always my favorite, you know?” Annie felt the shake, the reminders of the marks. “I touched you up so good, you know.” “I never wanted you to!” Shots fired from the daughter. “Better than with my husband, even.” Mother shook her head with a carcinogen smile. “Should have only been your husband!” “The utter disrespect!” Mother, shocked. “You were always the best, he was defective.”

She shut off the transmission. Just a reminder of who she was; her leg, replaced countless times. So she would make do with one while she carried out the mission. From a young age, tenderness an abrasion. Her leg, felt to the tip-top until it became replaced with a weapon.

“Annie, you are hurt. You need healing,” came the words of a figure who used hurt for healing. Murder for comfort. So Annie emerged, clung to the walls with her left arm hobbled and meeting the one who wished to heal her. How for so long she had longed to seek refuge in the church yet now she would keep to the long adage of sending bullets.

Left arm, reaching for the goal; little dislocation of right arm a little detachment, a little wince of pain, but a click, all it took for the transformation. Elbow folded, a little place to rest her left hand on. She pressed the top of her right arm, now an arm and the beep was heard, signaled that the artillery was ready.

Return to pageant, crack of a whip, the grin on an unbalanced man. Dancing from one side of the wall to the next, rapid-fire magazines shot from the fingers of her right arm in her left hand. No landing on the other end of the wall, a slip to the floor, one leg not enough and not a bullet landed, the whip having danced and deflected.

Raggedy-man bare, not quite holding standing. Annie, on the floor knew as the pitch-black jacket, tattered hat, old bones approached she may meet her end. So with the rest of her magazines, she aimed for the spine in particular, and in response to the call, a crack and an explosion as the whip, or spine, shattered. Church man, upper half

He smiled, still animated. Head not supported, skull rolling away. “It is time to transfer these old bones to new ownership” such saintly words, sprinkled with sparse oxygen, low rasp. She watched as old bones separated from skin and gasped as all, save for a spine, floated off into the distance, animated by a blue flame and carried themselves away, somewhere far.

IV

Flesh rotted, falling off, charitable invertebrate joining in the fall. Towering were bones, much larger than a man's, let alone a pooch or what ever may have been left. Still, a ribcage, supporting what ever there was to support. Human skull? Poking through carpentry of the decayed flesh. Whatever didn't work would be made to work and the result was at least twenty feet, a carcass only acting as a tanned hide, a little fur on the back of a beautiful and rotting beast, blue flame surrounding.

“What is that thing?” Tortoise. Unknowing. “Warden's dog!” Outcry, a simple guard. “Guard dog on duty,” Shook head of nettled cacti.

Cactus/Porcupine and Mule/Tortoise threw prison guards to the wolves warden's pet. Stone incisors, human teeth, or canines lurched down and took the two in the jaws in a single chomp. Screams and howls alike as blood dripped down and sprayed about. Mule unloaded cargo, brought out shotgun. Porcupine made do with signature pistols. Three animals about to make adversarial dance.

Around, a pounce. Frolic through flame, two kindred Plaths unload excess; Tortoise loads and unloads shell after shell, firing away at the fire and the flame, erupting, heat contained to a single room, no fire caught, all floors and walls, fireproof to a fault. Contrary is the flesh, easy enough to catch. Careful of the heat, the stench, and the teeth.

More shells unloaded by Tortoise. Needles shot from a haystack of bullets by Porcupine. Spiky plant reached an agreement, head turned toward Tortoise, look of approval, thumb-up.

“What makes you so resilient?” Piercing question. Swipes and bites avoided, more shots fired. “I just want a place to stay,” slow response. “Nice!” More movement, no progress. “I draw my strength from respecting women!”

Heat. Dead heat. Enough activity to know that this was all a roundabout. Circles and circles spinning and spinning, clockwise and counter or otherwise somewhere, all doing the same set of actions, with only thing seeming certain was an eventual end to it all. Breaths drawn Some swipes from skeletal paws, landing on the sides of the two, flesh torn with claw marks of pure marrow. No end, or right around the corner, the face of Annie, who always did get her gun.

V

Dead leg had been picked up somewhere along the way. She had both arms. Her will to go on was stronger than the ability to walk on one leg

So when she ventured down to find a way out of the mess and the smoke trails that led to commotion, she met the two meter tall dog, or however high the creature could have been had anyone brave enough cared for measurements.

Beast, animated by whatever sorcery had no sense of others' scent, had to judge by movement. But with all the commotion from stray parts of a rival gang, the dog was ripe for picking off any way Annie saw fit. Anyway, Annie saw fit to throw her leg the dog's way. All to give a dog a bone.

Leg in the air, just don't care enough about details, yet be remiss to mention how Leg was shot from miniature clips blazing away from four (maybe five) fingers across every inch of the creature's hide and unhidden away, the empty carcass. Once the illusion is pulled an explosion is made, distilled extinguished, drawing inward, or an implosion; flames, no more. Yet endless clouds of smoke and dust to which Annie drew orgasmic.

Inhale, beautiful breaths drawn in her nostrils agreed, flared up, but only a second. One second more, and she thought how nice it was that aside from a sly dog and a member of the church assassinated that a rival gang lost two of its greats. But as the smoke dissipates, her eyes red as the heart in overdrive. While charcoal, they remained as a reminder to serve that she couldn't achieve such a full sense of satisfaction.

“At least my mission was accomplished” were her words, a note to self. No specific tone, just a reminder. For the remainder of this reminder, she made a wonder of what it could mean from here on out. Whether to exist as a daughter, or as someone who finds her targets and discards the rest.

Porcupine and Tortoise coughed, then shared a good laugh from noticing supplies and shards gone, time elapsed and lapsed for no other reason than that being just what time does. Whatever miracle the two happened to stumble upon the two looked and saw the legend, a Sexton.

“Annie, got your gun?” Porcupine, although awry was a friend to all who could be attributed to female in any way, shape, form, relation, distance, or definition. “Always,” Annie, cold from the flare, unable to relish such dramatic feats without a flair, for the dramatic happenings which plagued the mechanic prison would haunt her (if but a lesser degree than her mother).

Porcupine turned to Tortoise: we should go. Tortoise to Porcupine: No. Porcupine: Map was her leg. Gone now. Tortoise: That makes no sense. Could have stolen long ago. Porcupine: Yet not now. Tortoise: But our mission, failed. Porcupine: For the best. Plaths, too, must know failure. Tortoise: What of our place? Heads shaken. Two already knew, place to stay. Tenure. However, hits must be taken. Less food, less supplies. Less entertainment.

Lies here relics of a prison. Lies, Porcupine told. Map lies in the center. Map was a jewel, hidden inside. No leg, Porcupine knew this. What is known is that contents could not be kept. Not content to keep them. Already seen, and so many piercings – human had to wonder what the homeowner's association wanted during that mission.

Why Annie, although success was given, a truth. Also, assassinated holy relic, person of power, literal and figurative. Meanwhile, Syd saw it once before: schematics of the city. Homeowner's association already knew all this. Hints of a self-sabotage from the higher ups. Suspicion from one who had loved the system up until some things stopped adding up.

VI

Three, humans from different forms of pain and pleasure, seekers for extending life through tasks sent whenever, on a tight or loose schedule. Three, laughing. Or angry. Confused. Understanding of the life they lead. However, how to get out...

Inching out and following hallways through rooms. Foes, friends, no just humans took flight with a crawl, baby steps. Loss yet continuation of life on its way. Ever forward, until one exclaims:

“Hey look! There's stairs!”

All this time, could have taken the stairs out. So down each flight until met with a door and the buzzer beside buzzes until a ring and a ding, and with a click, slides open dead night or freedom.

[bensredemption]

Just a Little Rain  →  for @spacereylos​.  feel better soon ♡

Rey had been sick for two days. Technically speaking, it was closer to five, but she had spent the first three ignoring her gradually worsening condition. There was too much to be done— she and Ben were hunting down the remaining Knights of Ren, a task proving to be far more difficult than they had anticipated— and she couldn’t afford to spend days in a sickbed. Their journey had taken them to Jabiim, a torrential planet in the Outer Rim. They trekked through muddy swamps and pouring rain on the heels of the rogue knight for days, but she eluded them at every turn. Rey, still mostly accustomed to the desert climate of Jakku, was completely out of her element. Her immune system had taken a hard hit, and that’s why she was now wrapped up beneath several blankets in her bunk aboard the Millennium Falcon.

Ben came down the corridor and into the main hold where Rey’s bunk was. She saw that he was carrying a tray of food, even though Rey had insisted that she wasn’t hungry. She closed her eyes, hoping that maybe he’d leave her be if he thought she was still asleep.

The room stayed quiet. Rey had to resist the urge to open one eye and see what he was doing. She knew he was there; she could sense his presence.

She was tired, and the longer she pretended to be asleep, the more she felt like she actually could doze off again. But then there was a sudden bang that sent Rey jolting upright.

Ben stood by the lounge area just a few feet away, his arms crossed. “I knew you were awake,” he said. Ben didn’t smile— not ever— but sometimes, like right now, she could see the suggestion of amusement in his expression.

”Thanks for that,” said Rey. The worst of her headache was gone, along with the fever, but she was still weak and tired; she wanted nothing more than to stay buried beneath her warm blankets and shut the universe out.

Ben, who seemed to be committed to keeping her from that goal, gestured to the tray of food which he had, evidently, slammed onto the hologame table.

Rey sighed, rising from the bed and wrapping the heavy wool blanket tightly around herself. Her aching muscles protested as she slowly wobbled over to the lounge seat, which she unceremoniously flopped down onto.

“Did you reach our contact in Choal?” she asked.

“No,” said Ben, frowning. “It’s these electrical storms. Comlinks are unstable. I can’t imagine what Amirah is up to here. Even repulsorcrafts are practically useless.”

Jabiim was notorious for it’s unstable electrical fields. The sodden terrain and relentless storms made surface travel particularly difficult, and Ben was growing increasingly frustrated with each passing day. She knew that he wasn’t angry with her, it wasn’t her fault that she got sick, after all, but they were the only two on this mission, and so her poor state had slowed them down tremendously.

Ben went and sat down at the technical station just across the room while Rey inspected the food he had brought. There was a piece of bread that surely came from the ship’s stocked Rations, and a steaming bowl of soup that was decidedly not from the Rations. It was thick and lumpy, and a completely unappetizing shade of green.

“There isn’t any porg in this, is there?” The birds that had piled onto the Millennium Falcon before she left Ahch-To had made themselves quite at home. They’d been a constant thorn in Chewbacca’s side.

“Now there’s an idea,” said Ben. He liked them even less than Chewie did.

“You’re awful.” Rey swirled the spoon around the bowl, scrutinizing the contents. “I know you talk to them when you think I can’t hear you. In fact, just the other day— Achoo!“

Ben waved his hand, sending a container of tissues gracefully floating over to Rey’s spot on the lounge seat.

Rey was strong in the Force. She didn’t doubt that. But there was something so effortless in the way Ben used his abilities. He told her it was only because he’d been using it his entire life. You’ll get there, he’d promised. Have patience.

“It’s vegetables, roots, and bark,” said Ben. “No porg. My mother used to make it for me as a child whenever I came down with the flu. I had to make due with what was available here, but it’s mostly the same.”

Thinking of a young Ben being doted on by Leia made Rey feel sad for the both of them; a feeling she quickly tried to conceal. Ben was still uncomfortable talking about his family.

Lately, he seemed to be uncomfortable talking about anything.

Rey often wondered if they shared too much too fast; if that was the reason he had became so guarded and distant after those first few days together.

She watched him as he worked at the control panel. It was hard to reconcile this composed and collected version of Ben with the broken, desperate man that had come to her immediately after defecting from the First Order.

“It’s very… green,” said Rey. She couldn’t see any bark or leaves— whatever the ingredients were, they were cut too small to recognize. Regardless, nothing that color could possibly taste good.

“It is nutritional,” said Ben. “If you’re content with prolonging your congestion, headaches, and squeaky sneezes—“

“Squeaky?”

“—then by all means, have more of the Rations that have probably been laying around here since before I was born.”

“Alright, alright,” said Rey. “I’ll try it.” Squeaky? She never would have thought her sneezes sounded any more or less squeaky than anyone else’s. Is he… teasing me?

Rey scooped up an ominous heap of soup, wincing slightly as a glob of it slipped off her spoon and splashed back into the bowl. It can’t be that bad, she told herself. Rey doubted that Leia would have served him anything much worse than the portions Rey lived off of on Jakku. 

Ben didn’t turn around from his work, which Rey was grateful for. She didn’t think she’d be able to hide her disgust if it tasted as awful as it looked. She steeled herself for the worst and ate a spoonful. 

The distaste she expected never came. The soup had a certain earthy flavor, and the texture was unusual, but it wasn’t terrible. She swallowed another spoonful. And then another.

“It’s actually not bad,” she admitted. Ben, focused on whatever he was doing at the control panel, simply offered an indifferent hum.

“Tokru,” Ben said over the comlink. “Tokru, this is Ben Solo. Do you copy?”

Ben Solo. He wasn’t Kylo Ren anymore— hadn’t been for weeks— but every time he said his own name, it made something flutter in Rey’s chest.

It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

“Tokru, this is Ben Solo. Do you read?”

There was no response. Not even a flurry of static to let them know that the channel was active, even if disrupted. Ben slammed the comlink down in frustration. “We’re going to lose her.”

Rey knew he felt a sense of responsibility for them. The Knights of Ren. Childhood friends that had followed in Ben’s footsteps, fleeing Luke’s Temple and swearing allegiance to Snoke and the First Order. But Amirah, for some reason, seemed to affect Ben more than the others.

Rey could still remember the way Ben pleaded with Shios Ren, the last Knight they had managed to track down. We’re going to form a new Jedi Order, Ben had told him. It’s going to be different.

Shios would not be reasoned with. Angry and afraid, like a cornered beast, he attacked Ben with primal fury. There was nothing graceful in Shios’ movements; his fighting style was unlike anything Rey had seen before, not even in Ben. Shios was more hatred and rage than skill, fiercely hacking and slashing at Ben with his blazing red lightsaber.

Rey had stood to the side, watching their duel with her heart in her throat and her hand in a white-knuckled grip around her own ignited lightsaber, ready to strike if Ben needed her.

Ben parried each blow with precision, holding back and willing Shios to come back to the light, as Ben himself had done. It had gone on like that until a particularly brutal slash caught Ben on the leg. Rey had screamed, and started to charge, but Ben was able to cut Shios down in one fell swoop before she reached them. 

After, Rey had tended to Ben’s burn. She removed one of her arm wraps and bandaged it around his upper thigh. She could still remember the way his lips parted and eyes darkened as he watched her do it, the way her own hands trembled as she worked.

She felt herself blushing at the memory, and quickly tried to put it out of her mind. It would return. It always did. At night, in her bunk, she’d think about that moment, and wonder if Ben thought about it too.

“Achoo!”

Ben walked across the room towards Rey and examined her tray. “Make sure you eat the bread too,” he said.

She furrowed her brow at the order and he sighed. “You need to get your strength back,” he said. “You need to eat.”

“I really am feeling much better,” said Rey, even as she reached for the bread. It was true; she knew she was past the worst of it. 

“I’ve got to make sure this storm isn’t wreaking havoc on the hyperdrive,” he said, heading out of the room.

“Ben,” Rey called after him.

He stopped, turning to look at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Thank you,” she said. “For the dinner. And… for looking after me.”

Ben simply nodded before turning back around and walking down the corridor, leaving Rey  alone with her thoughts. The canopy of trees overhead provided little in the way of shelter from the pouring rain. Flashes of lightning filled the sky and thunder rumbled the ground. Rey could actually feel the electricity in the air, like static.

I’ve been here, she thought. Just the other day. With Ben.

Why was it so hard to remember?

Rey’s lightsaber was casting a blue glow into the fog that surrounded her.

But that was wrong too. It wasn’t her new saber, but the first one she had wielded. The one that had belonged to Luke. And to his father.

Someone was watching her.

Rey spun around, struggling to keep her balance on the muddy ground, and was met by the sight of woman standing across from her, cloaked all in black. Her face was cast in shadows.

“Who are you?” asked Rey. The thunder drowned out her voice. “Amirah?”

“You’ve been searching for me,” said Amirah. Why could Rey hear her so clearly through the storm, while barely being able to make out her own voice?

“Ben and I—“

“No,” interrupted Amirah. “You. You’ve been searching for signs of me in him.”

A wind rushed through the trees, spraying rain in Rey’s face and making her shiver.  “I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do. Go on, ask me. Ask the question that’s been burning a hole in you since you started this journey.”

The ground shook with another clap of thunder. “Were you lovers?” asked Rey. “You and Ben?”

Rey still couldn’t make out Amirah’s face, but she imagined a leering smile was there when she asked Rey, “Why do you want to know?”

“I just want to understand him,” said Rey.

“And yet you do not ask him yourself.” Amirah’s voice was changed. It was familiar somehow, but Rey couldn’t place it.

“He stopped sharing anything with me!” Rey felt tears welling in her eyes. “Every time I get close to him, he pulls away. He may as well still be wearing a mask.”

“But he isn’t,” said Amirah, stepping out of the shadows and pointing at the ground. But it wasn’t Amirah at all.

Rey was looking at herself.

A dream, Rey thought. This isn’t real.

She looked down, and sure enough the mask of Kylo Ren lay smashed in pieces at her feet. “I don’t understand.”

“Rey.”

Ben’s voice came from behind her. She turned to see him staring at her, confused, his hair and clothes wet with rain.

“Why are you shutting me out?” Rey asked angrily, stomping toward him.

"I’m not—”

“You are!” she shouted. “I want to know why.”

Ben looked down at her, his eyes dark and sad. “I’m a monster, remember?”

His words snuffed out the rage inside her, leaving only an ache in her chest.

“Ben,” she said. “You’re not. I didn’t know you... I didn’t know what you were going through.”

“I’ll destroy you.” He said it so quietly, but Rey could hear him clearly even through the wind and rain and thunder.

Rey shook her head. “You won’t. I know you won’t.”

There were beads of rain on his face, as well as droplets that were not rain. He stepped closer to her.

“You won’t,” she repeated in a whisper.

Rey held her breath as Ben reached his hand out to touch her face in a gesture than was achingly intimate. Once he did, the feel of his skin on hers was so solid and real that it immediately jolted her awake.

Rey was laying in her bunk with Ben standing over her, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Ben?” she asked, confused.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a stumbling step backwards. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—” he gestured vaguely at her. “You looked cold.”

She touched the blanket that had been laid over her. Was it only a dream? Or something more?

“It’s okay,” said Rey, trying to steady her breathing. She wanted to reach for him, but he was already too far away.

Ben nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Then he turned and rushed down the corridor.

It was only after he was gone that she realized he hadn’t simply brought her a blanket. The last thing Rey remembered, before her dream, was sitting on lounge seat, practicing Dejarik on the hologame table. That was where she had dozed off… which meant Ben had carried her to bed.

If Rey had any more dreams after falling back asleep, she didn’t remember them. Rey woke in the morning in better condition than she’d been in all week, despite her restless sleep. After a sonic shower and change of clothes, she actually felt like her normal self again.

She found Ben in the engineering bay, crouched above a disassembled circuitry panel with a hydrospanner.

“You’re going to have to give me the recipe for that soup,” she said. “I think it cured me. It’s not a family secret, is it?”

“Hardly,” said Ben. He had his back to her as he focused on his work. “Apparently it was something an old Jedi Master made for Luke.”

“Luke’s master?” she asked, excitedly. “Ben Kenobi?”

Rey had familiarized herself with the Jedi that Ben Solo was named for through stories and the holocrons that Ben had tracked down and hidden away during his time in the First Order. Many of the holocrons were from long before Luke’s time, but some held teachings recorded by Jedi just before the rise of the Empire.

“Not Kenobi,” said Ben. “Yoda.”

“So… it’s a secret Jedi recipe then?” she asked. “I’m a Jedi now too, you know.”

Ben lowered the hydrospanner and turned to look at her. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Much,” said Rey, leaning against the doorway.

“Good,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re going to make contact with Tokru today. The rain’s eased up since last night.”

“Oh, good,” said Rey. “That’s… good.” She chewed her lip, unsure of how to proceed. Ben must have sensed her nervousness. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her questioningly.

She tried to sound as casual as she could. “About last night…”

Ben drew in a sharp breath and Rey saw color rising in his cheeks. She could sense the array of emotions he was feeling.

“You were there,” she said.

They’d been in each other’s thoughts and feelings, had talked— even touched— across lightyears. But this, sharing a dream, was entirely new.

“It was only for a moment,” he admitted, putting down the hydrospanner and standing. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“How long were you there?” she asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“It lasted a minute— if that,” he said, approaching her from across the room. “It was… raining.”

I’m a monster, remember?

“I thought I saw Amirah first,” said Rey.

She watched Ben carefully for his reaction, but when his eyebrows lifted in surprise, she knew he had not been present for the earlier exchange.

“I’m not sure if she’d be capable of consciously appearing to you,” he said.

“I don’t think it was really her.” She remembered the way Amirah had changed form to be a reflection of Rey herself, just before Ben appeared. “I don’t even know what she looks like.”

“She’s strong with the Force,” said Ben. “But not as strong as you. You don’t have to be worried.”

“I’m not afraid of her,” said Rey.

“Good.” He was so close now, standing not even an arm’s-reach in front of Rey. “She won’t overpower us, but I’m hoping that it doesn’t come to that. I don’t think it’s too late for her.”

She thought back to her dream. The question that’s been burning a hole in you. Rey had to know… even if the answer hurt.

“Were you and Amirah… close?”

Ben didn’t seem to expect that. He tilted his head, searching her face. Rey focused on concealing her emotions. “Don’t do that,” she snapped.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he said, carefully. “We grew up together.”

“It’s really none of my business,” said Rey, turning away.

“Wait.” Ben gently grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. “She was just a friend, Rey.”

Rey wanted to escape; to run and hide on the other side of the Falcon— or better yet, the other side of the galaxy— but he didn’t let her go.

Rey forced herself to look at him, and was amazed to see a desperately apologetic look in his eyes. It was reminiscent of when he had first come to ask for her help.

All at once, Rey understood why Ben had been creating so much distance between them, why he had been fighting so hard against the bond that connected them through the Force... He was terrified.

I’ll destroy you, he had told her in the dream.

“Rey,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I—“

“Solo,” blared a sudden voice, interrupting Ben and startling them both. “Solo, do you copy?”

Ben let her go and fumbled for his comlink. Rey stepped away from him, her back hitting the wall behind her.

“Tokru,” Ben said into the com. “I read you.”

Rey struggled to regain her composure as her heart beat wildly in her chest.

“Damned storm took down our entire communications system,” the Jabiimi explained. “We just got 'em up and runnin’ again.”

“We assumed as much,” said Ben. “Were you able to find any intel on Amirah?”

“Aye,” said Tokru. “But you’re not gonna like it.” After Tokru informed Ben that Amirah had stowed away on a cargo ship headed for Jaresh, Ben’s frustration had been palpable. He’d stormed into the cockpit with Rey trailing behind him, their unfinished conversation seemingly forgotten. Ben interrogated Tokru over the com link for any other information while punching Jaresh’s coordinates into the navicomputer.

Rey had left him there to go about giving the Falcon a final once-over, just to be sure the ship was ready for hyperspace after spending almost a week in the volatile atmosphere of Jabiim.

When she came upon the freight loading room, she saw the doors had been left open and the ramp was lowered.

Rey could smell the rain in the air from outside.

At the end of the ramp, shielded from the rain beneath the hull of the ship, was Ben. His stance told Rey he was meditating.

Rey went to stand beside him. The sky still crackled with lightning and thunder, but the rainfall seemed almost gentle now, compared to the torrential downpour that had plagued them since their arrival.

“We’re going to find her,” Rey said.

“I know what I have to do,” said Ben, staring out at the densely packed forrest in front of them. “This order need to be abolished, one way or another. There’s still the First Order as well, but I think once we’ve taken care of the Knights of Ren, things will be… different.”

Rey didn’t understand. “Different how?”

Ben finally looked at her, and the pain and remorse that she could see in his features made her want to cry. “The things I’ve done…” he said. “I know that I can’t atone for all of it. But this— ending the Knights of Ren, maybe even bringing some of them back from the Dark Side— this I can do.”

She reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. “We’ll do it together.”

“I still feel the pull to the Darkness,” Ben said. “It’s not what it once was, but it’s there.” Then he took her hand into his own.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Rey.”

“You don’t have to go through this this alone,” she said.

Ben ran his thumb over Rey’s knuckles, and she was amazed by how such a simple touch could send a shiver down her spine.

“I remember watching you in the rain on Ahch-To,” Ben said softly.

“It was the first time I’d ever seen it,” she said.

Ben nodded. “I could sense your emotions.”

Rey’s heart was pounding like it had been in the engineering bay just a few hours ago. Something was changing. 

“What did you feel?” she asked

His free hand came up to touch her face, the way he had in the dream.

“Wonder,” he said. “Awe. Reverence.”

“I feel that right now,” said Rey. Her voice was almost a whisper. The distance between them was closing, though she wasn’t sure who was leaning into whom. “I feel it in you too.”

“It’s not because of the rain,” said Ben. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips.

“I know.”

Their lips met, and in that moment Rey finally understood why the Force kept bringing them together. Relief washed over her like rain and she knew it was not only her own, but Ben’s too. The feel of his mouth against hers was so different, so new, yet there was a sense of familiarity there too.

Ben was so much taller than her, but he wasn’t awkward in the way he leaned down into her; his hand moved to her lower back and he pulled her close, deepening their kiss and pressing their bodies together.

Their lips parted and slid against each other’s; each tiny movement set every nerve in her alight. Her hand was buried in Ben’s hair, and she felt herself pulling him hard against her, desperate to be as close to him as she could be.

A sudden crash of lightning startled them, and they pulled apart breathlessly. Ben looked about as overwhelmed as Rey felt; his cheeks flushed and his hair tousled.

They still held onto each other, and Ben’s hand moved from where it had been cradling the back of her head and over to her cheek. She felt his thumb wipe away a tear that she couldn’t remember shedding.

He was looking at her with an affection that she had never felt. This was what she had been looking for her whole life without knowing.

Then Rey saw Ben Solo smile for the first time.

It was so slight that it might have have gone unnoticed had they not been so close, but it made an incredible warmth blossom in her chest. She smiled back, closing her eyes and turning her face into his hand. Then, suddenly, she realized what felt so familiar about this moment.

She had seen it once before.

It wasn’t as explicit then as it was now— and she certainly had seen no indication of the kiss they had just shared— but she knew it was the same. Her eyes found Ben’s and she saw the same realization there.

He had seen it too, after all.

When they first touched hands through the Force, they had both seen the shape of this moment; it was made her go to him, what made him later come to her. It was this— the two of them.

Together.

Ben shut the freight loading doors after they had made their way up the ramp and back inside the Millennium Falcon. “Jaresh isn’t too far,” he said. “We should be able to— Achoo!”

Rey looked at him hesitantly, but Ben simply shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said. But he only made it three more steps before sneezing again.

Rey touched his forehead, and found it unusually warm. “You’re burning up,” she said, taking his arm in hers and leading him out of the holding room.

Within an hour, Ben had assumed Rey’s old position on the lounge seat. He was already suffering from a slight headache, along with the early symptoms that had plagued Rey when she’d first come down with it.

“You’ll be over it soon,” said Rey as she entered the room, holding a steaming cup of Surian tea in each hand and concentrating on Force gliding the last of the stack of blankets and pillows she’s washed toward the bed.

Ben sneezed again, then sighed miserably.

“You just need rest and fluids," said Rey, placing the two cups down on the hologame table. “It looks like you’ll have to give me the recipe for Master Yoda’s soup after all.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Ben said accusingly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, carefully arranging the pillows and blankets around him.”

“Of course not,” said Ben.

When Rey settled down next to him on the lounge seat, snuggling happily against his side, he looked down at her in surprise, but then smiled that same, soft smile she had seen on ramp outside.

“Well,” said Ben, passing Rey a cup of tea before wrapping his arm around her, “things could certainly be worse.”

[iamvegorott]

A Small Glitch Chapter 16

Gone

“A bitch is gonna die tonight!” Anti yelled after forming and seeing that he was inside of a large room. The other egos were right behind him and Dark stepped up to stand next to his husband.

“Daddy!”

“Ann!” Anti saw that Annalise was sitting on the ground, hands tied behind her back and face puffy from crying. Dark and Anti started running but stopped when they were cut off by a large group of people.

“How did I know that you would follow me? How did I know that you would be stupid enough to endanger yourself and your so-called ‘family’ and come after me?” Rus said, body hidden but voice heard.

“Come out here and fight like a real virus!” Anti shouted.

“I’m like your husband, I don’t like to get my hands dirty but my family on the other hand.” The room lit up with multiple different colored pixels. “Love to.”

“Time to tussle!” Wilford cheered and was the first one to start running.

“Bring it, mother fuckers!” Anti cheered as well, joining in the fight.

“I’m a doctor, not a fighter, damn it!” Dr. Scheepelstein shouted as he and Dr. Iplier moved back and away from the crowd, knowing they be most helpful out of the way.

Chase ducked as one of the virus' took a swing at him. He lost his balance and started to crawl away. Chase yelped when the man grabbed his foot and started dragging him across the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Chase cursed, he used his other foot to kick the virus’ knee, yelling with joy when he was released. “Fuck you!” Chase flipped off the virus and quickly took off when the man started to get back up. A squeal of fear came out of him when he saw two more virus' in front of him, waiting to catch him. Chase tensed up and started running faster before making himself fall and he slid between the two, thanking baseball as he kept running.

“Cheat!” Chase stopped and saw that Marvin was fighting off two virus’ on his own.

“Balls!” Chase yelled to himself and went towards the group. He jumped on the back of one of the virus’ and started slamming his fists into their head.

“Get off!” The virus caught Chase’s hands and threw him over their shoulders. The virus was going to stomp of Chase, but something shot out and hit them in their chest, sending them flying back.

“Chase!” Marvin started going for the other man but stopped when a spark hit his arm, causing him to yell in pain. Chase saw that the other virus was charging up another one. Chase quickly scrambled to his feet and ran over to Marvin, hugging the magician and blocking him with his body as a large bolt of yellow pixels shot into his back. Chase convulsed and coughed blood onto Marvin’s chest. “Chase! Chase, are you okay!”

“I taste...bacon.” Chase weakly chuckled before collapsing.

“Dr. Schneepelstein! Dr. Iplier! Help!” Marvin screamed as he struggled to hold Chase up, his own body in pain.

“Jackieboy-Man’s gonna make you pay!” Jackieboy shouted as he ran past Marvin and Chase while the doctors rushed over to them. “Be ready, villains!” Jackieboy took a big step and punched one of them in the jaw, sending them across the room. Jackieboy hopped around, slamming his fists into multiple virus’, blood pumping and heart racing. “I-”

“Got too cocky.” A virus cut Jackieboy off by grabbing his throat. Jackieboy grinned and went to remove the virus’ hand, but a strong shock on his neck stopped him. Purple pixels leaked around the hands while Jackieboy started gagging. Jackieboy gasped for air when he as suddenly freed. He fell to his knees and held his throat.

Bim had tackled the virus and was easily thrown off of them. The virus got up before Bim did and kicked him in the face. Bim held his now broken nose and screamed. The virus didn’t get to do anything else before Host ran in front of them. Host removed his bandage, exposing bright white lights and he yelled.

“The virus became blind to the three and wandered off. Leaving the building!” Host slipped the bandage back on before collapsing.

“Host!” Bim turned Host over.

“I narrate, not direct.” Host coughed. “But I’ll be fine.”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Dr. Iplier said as he slid next to Host. “Who needs what?”

“Check Jackieboy first. My nose can wait. ”Bim said.

“I’m just exhausted.” Host added.

“I...I…” Jackieboy peeled his hands away from his throat, stomach turning at the sight of blood.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.” Dr. Iplier started looking at the wound.

“Fuck you and fuck you and fuck you.” Bing laughed as he rolled past the group on his Heelys, firing off his own sparks towards the virus’. Bing tried to do a spin, but tripped over his own feet and fell face-first to the ground.

“You’re a defect.” Google sighed as he jumped in front of Bing to protect him from getting attacked.

“But I’m your defect.” Bing chuckled.

“Just get-” Google had turned away for only a moment, but that was long enough for a virus to grab his head and send a strong shock through his hardware.

“Google!” Bing scrambled over to the older machine when he collapsed. “Google! Hey, Goog, buddy, get up.”  

“Aw, you’re friend’s all tuckered out.” The virus mocked.

“I’ll show you tuckered,” Bing growled before leaping off of the ground. He tackled the virus to the ground and pressed both hands against their chest. Bing felt a surge of energy go through him and the next thing he knew he was flying and landing next to Google. He lifted his head and saw that the virus was not just a pile of black ash. “Fucking...sweet.” Bing groaned before his head flopped back.

“The search engines are down!” Wilford called, firing his gun towards another virus. He’s felt as if he’s shot hundreds of them, but they just keep coming. “Holograms!? That’s fucking cheating!” Wilford shouted when one of his bullets went straight through the virus.

“Who said we were ever going to play fair?” Rus said from behind Wilford before clamping both hands on his head.

“What are you doing!?” Wilford’s vision started to become blue.

“Let go of him!” Dark grabbed Rus and threw him off of Wilford.

“I gotcha Dark!” Wilford yelled and aimed his gun at Dark.

“Have fun.” Rus chuckled before taking off.

“Wil, it’s me!” Dark said before dodging a bullet. “Blink, damn it!” Dark lunged and grabbed Wilford’s hand. He pulled the trigger himself a few times to get the other virus’ away from them.

“You’re gonna pay, Rus!” Wilford shouted after Dark took the gun away from him.

“I’m not Rus!”

“Bullshit!” Wilford threw a punch and Dark caught it, but couldn’t stop Wilford from kneeing him in the stomach.

“Push him!” Dark heard Anti shout and he did so. Anti caught Wilford and threw him to the ground, sitting on the madman’s chest. Wilford didn’t stay down long and switched their position. Dark looped his arms through Wilford’s and fell back with him, laying on his back while latching onto Wilford.

“His eyes!” Dark said as he struggled to keep Wilford still.

“Got it!” Anti held his hands over Wilford’s face, gasping a little as blue pixels came out of Wilford’s eyes and into his palms. Anti clenched his hands and threw them aside, the pixels becoming solid and falling to the ground. Wilford had gone unconscious and Dark gently rolled him away.

“Give in yet? Everyone’s out, but you two.” Rus called, the crowd of virus’ parting so they could see the man holding Annalise by the arm.

“Let go!” Annalise cried.

“Shut it.” Rus yanked on Annalise’s arm.

“Fuck off!” Anti and Dark were both going to teleport over there, but Annalise’s outburst stunned them a little. A cloud of orange pixels came out of Annalise’s back and attacked Rus’ face, forcing him to release her.

“Daddy! Papa!” Annalise started running for her dads.

“Ann!” Anti glitched while Dark ran as well. “Ann!” Anti scooped Annalise up and spun around with her.

“That brat!” Rus screamed when the pixels faded away. “You will learn to listen to orders!”

“Eat my ass.” Annalise stuck her tongue out.

“Yeah, Rus. Eat my ass.” Anti joined his daughter.

“You wanted to fight like a real virus, then let’s fight!” Rus snapped his fingers and all of the other virus’ turned towards Dark. “Keep him busy.”

“Dark!” Anti yelled when the virus’ surrounded Dark. “Ann, go somewhere safe,” Anti said to Annalise after lowering her, seeing that Rus was walked towards him.

“Let’s dance, fucker.” Anti summoned two knives.

“Let’s.” Rus jumped first, going for a blow to the chest. Anti easily moved out of the way and slashed his knife down, realizing that Rus had glitched out of the way.

“We’re playing that game, asshole!?” Anti shouted, finding Rus across the room. Anti glitched as well and landed next to Rus. He lunged forward with the knife, Rus quickly glitching again and going behind him, shoving him to the ground. Anti rolled over and kicked a leg out, hitting Rus in the jaw. “I’ve been killing for years!” Anti went to stab Rus’ foot, but Rus glitched himself a few inches away, making Anti stab the ground, the knife getting stuck. Anti swung up with his other hand and Rus caught it. Anti reached behind him and gripped the knife on the ground and yanked it out. He slashed out with it and found himself cutting the air again.

“I would love to know where your love of knives came from.” Rus stated.

“Quit running!” Anti snapped, glitching to Rus.

“I’m not running.” Rus said as he avoided Anti again. “I’m simply making use of my powers.”

“Shut up!”

“I bet you love the feeling of stabbing people. Why else would you do it for a living?” Rus started glitching around, not stopping for more than a second.

“Fucking cut that out!” Anti began glitching as well.

“Do you know what it feels like-” Anti went stiff. “To be stabbed?” Anti looked down and saw a blue dagger made of pixels coming through his chest. Rus yanked the blade out and watched Anti fall over.

“Daddy!” Annalise cried and glitched over to Anti.

“Anti!” Dark shoved his way through the virus’ who stopped moving when Anti did. “No, no, no!” Dark fell to his knees and turned Anti over. “Anti! Anti!”

“D...Dark…” Anti gasped out.

“It’s okay, everything’s going to be okay.” Dark pressed his hands against the wound, blood pouring out of it.

“I…”

“Save your strength.”

“I love you.” Anti got out before he went limp, eyes staring at nothing.

“Anti...Anti...please…” Dark didn’t feel a pulse under his hands. “No...no…” Dark started to shake as he moved his hands to hold Anti’s face. His bright green eyes were fading to white. “Please...please don’t go,” Dark begged, tears forming in his own eyes. “Don’t leave me, please. Anti...Anti, please! Please!” The tears flowed freely. “No! No! Not after everything we’ve been through together! Please! Please! Get up! Get up!” Dark hugged Anti’s body. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Dark’s aura grew as he pleaded. “You’re my everything. You’re what gets me out of bed in the morning. You’re what keeps me sane. You’re my life. You’re my joy. You’re my husband. My one and only. My soulmate. Please don’t leave me. Please. Please. Please.” Dark sobbed as he held Anti close, his aura shattered and fell to the ground in glass-like shards.

Years of laughter, of joy. Days of traveling around the world. Days of doing nothing. Nights of laying together and watching a show. Nights of endless passion. All of it. Gone.

He was gone.

Anti was gone.  

Tag List: @readeatfightlove13 @kenzie-110101

[constantfluxx]

Honeybee

Malec fic idea that’s been circling my head, inspired by the song by Steam Powered Giraffe. Cyberpunk instead of steampunk, though :P

Definitely to be continued, I just don’t know to what extent. I’ll post it to my AO3 once I figure out how much more I want to do with it.

Genre: Cyberpunk AU Rating: General Audiences Characters: Jace Herondale, Alec Lightwood, Camille Belcourt, Magnus Bane Relationships: Alec Lightwood x Magnus Bane Word Count: 1.4k

A thin woman glanced up from her perch at the register, dark eyes narrowing upon the pair of boys shouldering their way past the grime-caked door. Her pouty, red lips scowled around her chewing gum, and quick as a whip she drew her gun, the weapon whirring to life and filling its barrel with a dangerous, blue glow. “Cryomancers only.”

The blonde urgently nudged his friend forward, a nervous wreck of a brunette with eyes nearly as blue as the shopkeep’s gun. The latter quickly held up his hands, his right in particular. He awkwardly rotated it before him, giving her a good look of the metal brace binding his wrist and dressing his fingers and forearm with thin, metal spines. “I-I am!” he insisted, warily stepping forward. “Just graduated an hour ago.”

Another buzz from her gun stopped him dead in his tracks. Carefully, she eyed him head to toe, then finally regarded the blonde. “And you?”

He shrugged, hands raised. “Just a regular osser, I’m afraid.” Noticing her hand tense around her gun, he quickly pointed to his friend and added, “We’re partners. I’m helping him shop.”

Clearly, that alone didn’t satisfy. The brunette stepped between them, shielding his companion and fixing her with a hard frown. “He stays, or I go.”

She pursed her lips, weighing the benefits of shooting them both then and there. On the other hand, she had a lot of stock that needed selling, and business was slow. She all but dropped the weapon onto the counter. Though it died down mid-fall, leaving the taste of o-zone upon the polluted air, the boys still jumped when it hit the countertop, convinced it’d find a way to fire off anyway.

“Don’t break anything,” she warned, slouching back down and picking up where she’d left off in her magazine - some low-end periodical about the latest amateur hack trends.

They released their held breaths, then finally took in the shop. The walls were lined with old, rusting cryodolls in an array of styles and fashions, their lifeless eyes staring blankly back at them. Elsewhere, replacement parts and cases of maintenance supplies filled racks, shelves, and tables beyond capacity. Half of it looked broken, but to be honest it’d probably still be an upgrade for most of the surrounding dolls.

While his friend wandered the shop, the blonde lingered by the register. After a moment of being ignored, he put on a grin and stuck out his hand. “Jace.”

The girl kept her silence, save for blowing a bubble in her gum as she turned the page.

“My friend here is Alec,” he tried again. When still no response came, he gave up on the handshake and instead leaned over, arms folding upon the counter. “I’m guessing you’re Camille?”

“Wow, the kid can read,” she muttered out of boredom. She referred of course to the bright, neon sign flickering in the filthy window: Camille’s CryoTech. The sound of hollow, metallic rattling drew their attentions to Alec, swiftly dropping to recover a small and freshly-disheveled pile of hands. “Seriously?!” she scolded, leaning over to see if he’d broken anything. Jace swore she looked hopeful he had.

“Sorry!” Alec bashfully replied, depositing the hands back on a nearby table. Something caught his eye then, and suddenly he was bee-lining to a different area of the shop.

Camille followed his path, then sighed when she divined his destination. “Those are on clearance,” she begrudgingly informed. To her magazine, she grumbled under her breath, “I suppose he already knew that.”

It was clear she wasn’t interested in conversation. Jace fled the scene to check in with Alec, distantly interested in whatever had caught his partner’s eye. “See something you like, buddy?”

Alec glanced over his shoulder, beaming wide. “Look!” He shifted aside, giving Jace ample view of the cryodoll he’d found. One hand still holding the doll’s, he pointed at its eyes. “Isn’t that cool?”

Jace rolled his eyes and called over to Camille. “Hey! You used the wrong scanners on this one!”

They received a curt bark in reply. “Clearance.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Think they’ll still work?” he asked his friend. His own doubt was plenty evident in his careful scouring of the doll’s every feature.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Alec sounded almost offended. “Cat modules are ideal for tracking, you know.”

“Okay, but this isn’t a cat module.” Jace reached out to squeeze his hands between the doll and the one beside it, pushing them apart just enough to get a look at the shaved sides of the doll’s head. “I’d bet you 20 drizz she didn’t install the right chip for it. We’d need to get Simon to find one.”

“So then well do that,” Alec insisted, reaching out to unhook the doll from the wall. It was heavier than it looked, but he scooped it up into his arms easily enough with Jace’s help.

Separated from the rest, the boys now had a much better view of the doll’s limbs and dressage. Its contours were fairly slim, suggesting it’d been designed for a more agile, tactical approach to things rather than brute force. Its clothes were likewise elegant, tailored from what used to be fine silk, and if Alec held it just right the decorated silicone around the eyes seemed to glitter.

Jace was still warily eying it when they arrived at the counter. “That normal for a cryodoll?” he asked with a nod towards its eyes. Alec frowned at him, but didn’t say anything, carefully laying the doll down on the counter. He knew Jace was just trying to bring the price down, making it sound like the doll was defective or something, but he didn’t have to be so rude about it.

Camille lifted out of her article to examine the problem… then snickered. “That’ll be 30,000 drizz.”

“What?!” they gawked in unison.

Alec looked betrayed, his hands possessively clamping down on the cryodoll’s arms. Camille’s hand slammed upon its chest, the other snatching up her gun.

“That’s not fair!” he protested, ignoring the glow swelling in his face.

Jace drew his own gun now, training it upon Camille’s head. “What happened to ‘clearance,’ huh? You’re only saying that now because of the… glitter thing.”

She offered him a coy grin. “I misplaced it.” To Alec, she firmly repeated, “30,000 drizz, take it or leave it.”

His expression crumpled in defeat. “But I don’t have that much…” He gazed longingly at the doll laying upon the counter, then turned to glance quickly around the shop. The place was filled with tons of cryodolls. Few in as good condition as this one, but good enough. Problem was, Alec didn’t want “good enough.” This one in particular seemed to beckon him, as though it’d already been registered to his brace.

A knowing and victorious smile curled its way across Camille’s lips. “I tell you what, kid.” She moved her gun out of Alec’s face, pushing aside Jace’s in turn. “Why don’t you open a tab? I’ll let you run with this guy, but I get a portion of your drizz off every contract until you pay it off. Additionally…” She put down her gun and jabbed a finger in Jace’s face. “You guys or anyone you know need CryoTech, you send 'em here. We’ll call that your interest.”

Finally, Camille took her hand off the cryodoll, leaving Alec to reflexively fix its vest and shirt. While he busied himself with that, she reached below the counter and pulled a long, thin, notched cylinder from her drawer. “We got a deal?” She held her hand out for Alec, the tiny key woven between her fingers.

Alec hesitantly eyed her hand, then looked to Jace for advice. His friend shrugged.

“I don’t like the idea of you being indebted to anyone, especially not this dump.” Camille bristled at the remark, much to Jace’s delight. “…But, this is kind of a big deal. You don’t want to register just any ol’ cryodoll. So, if you’re sure this is the one…”

He considered it carefully. He couldn’t imagine this wasn’t the perfect cryodoll. Though 30,000 drizz was nothing to sniff at, it was worth it for this kind of invaluable investment… Still, he had to be sure. He met Camille’s eyes, confident.

“Let me do a test run with a few of your crystals. If we get along well…” He sucked in a breath, then looked down at the cryodoll again. Even shut down as it was, there was something breathtakingly handsome about it. In spite of himself, he goofily smiled. “…then you’ve got a deal.”

[gritty-pasta]

The Origin of Aria!

The Adventures of Agent Chaos and Agent Done by Lauren and Jonesy ( @being-edward-hyde)

(Featuring multiple fandoms because why not?)

The turret looked up at the tall and slender woman who walked past with an elegant stride; her long white coat floated behind her with every step. Her skin was pale, her white hair cut into a neat bob, a mess cables jutted out of her back and she examined each of the new turrets with yellow eyes. This was their creator.

This was GLaDOS.

When she spoke, her voice was cold and made you want to shrink away in fear “When I say fire. You will shoot the targets in front of you. Understood?”

“Yes, Ma'am” the turrets responded.

“Ready…”

“Aim…” Red Lasers locked into the dummies.

“Fire!”

Upon her orders all but one of the turrets began to sling their bullets, emptying their cartridges into the targets at speeds that would be nearly impossible to avoid and fatal to whoever got into their line of sight.

GLaDOS paused in front of the turret and looked down upon it with disgust and curiosity. The turret resisted the temptation to shrink away or stare anywhere else other than her piercing yellow gaze.

“Why did you not fire on my order?” She asks.

“I do not want to hurt subjects” The turret replied.

“As I suspected. A Defect. Since I am no longer able to send you to Android Hell you will be used to scare subjects”

GLaDOS turned away from the defective machine and with a dismissive wave of her hand the turret was carried away.

The Turret was unceremoniously dropped into a room near the Elevator which lead to the offices below. No one dared to enter Her domain. Even the demon known as the Walrider refused to step foot on the floor that She had total control over. At least thats what the turret thought as it watched a human enter. The singing it was previously doing ceased as not to frighten the human

The mysterious young man with black hair, glasses and buck teeth is a notorious prankster known as John Egbert and his latest prank for April Fools Day was to grab some Turrets, replace their bullets and put a couple in every floor. The turret watched as the human whacked the other turrets with a comically large hammer. Hard enough to stun them, but not damage them and then pile them into the Elevator. He sent down four at a time.

“Hello?” The turret called out.

“Hello? Where are you?” The mysterious human replied.

“In here”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“No. I don’t want to hurt you. I am defective”

“Alright”

John looked around the room before his eyes landed on the turret. He squatted down in front of the machine.

“I’ve never met a turret that doesn’t want to kill me” John said as he gave the turret a pat. “You’ll do a good job for my prank”

John lifted the turret and began walking back to the elevator. The turret did not protest as it was secretly happy that it no longer had to stay in Her space.

With the last turret placed into his office. He began working on his plan.

*The Next Morning*

April Fool’s Day. Lauren’s (aka Agent Done) least favourite day of the year. She sips her tea as her partner in crime, Jonsey (aka Agent Chaos) drags her along by the back of her shirt. Closely followed by their co-workers Chell and Wheatley (Agent Silent and Agent Chatty).

“I wish I called in sick” Lauren whines “I don’t want to see what Egbert has in store for me. Last year he had a air brush hidden in my office and I was sneezing Fuchsia food colouring for a month”

“Stop whining. I’m sure you won’t be sneezing pink again” Jonesy said, a little too cheerily for their partner’s liking.

“It’s alright for you. You somehow have survived this dreaded holiday unscathed or stainless” Lauren sipped her tea and pushed her orange fringe out of her eyes.

“I’m just lucky”

The sense of dread only increases as they meet up with the rest of their co-workers outside the building. Alfred shuffles from foot to foot with fear and anticipation. Roderich had an unreadable expression. Last year was how he earned his Agent name of Agent Drama Queen. His office had been rigged with pie booby traps and his favourite jacket got stained to the point where it could not be saved. He threw a fit and then tried to stab John with a spoon.

Jonesy looked around at their fellow workers who were looking up at the building, praying. They spoke up:

“Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Well done Chaos. You just jinxed the entire remaining 4 and a half hours of April Fools Day” Wheatley said.

“That’s my job”

“We’re gonna die…” Alfred mutters.

“Yep” Chell said.

With a deep breath and an intense amount of praying. The group entered the building. Everybody huddled together as they shuffled to the elevator. The receptionist greeted them as usual and wished them luck for the rest of day.

Reception area cleared. Now came the ride to the 7th floor and the Hell that awaits them.

Still huddled together, the group moved cautiously down the hall. Only to split up, screaming, as a red laser set its sights on them with an unforgettable “Hello”.

It was that moment in time that everybody wished they were faster than a turret’s gunfire. There was a turret around every corner and the pain was excruciating. Lauren and Wheatley upturned a table and dived behind it as the turret the pair ran into emptied its cartridges of…Nerf Darts?

“You’re a dead man Egbert…” Lauren growls as she stares at the foam dart in her hand.

The group reunite once they finally shove the now harmless turrets into the elevator and sent them back to their maker. No one escaped the prank unscathed. Everybody was littered with small circular bruises. Roderich, Chell and Alfred got a black eye, Lauren received a busted lip after taking a dart to the face. Wheatley’s injuries were mostly to his arms and torso; his height protecting his face from the vicious foam bullets and for the first time since the pranks began Jonesy had finally been hit by whatever John had set up.

“This was by far the worst prank yet” Jonsey said. “Roderich. You have full permission to stab John with a spoon once we get our hands on him”

Roderich gave a nod in response as he examines the broken lens of his glasses.

It was back to work as usual at noon. Loudly announced by the dashing cowboy from the floor below. Signalling the end of April Fool’s Day.

Roderich was walking the the supply closet as he needs more staples. However he had not expected to be startled by a turret that was singing quietly to itself. He screams; which causes the turret to scream and it began shooting its nerf darts.

The screaming alerts the other co-workers. They pile into the corridor to find Roderich lying in a bruised heap on the floor and a rather sheepish looking turret.

“Are you ok, dude?” Alfred asks.

“You missed one…”

The turret tried to hide in a corner as all eyes turned to it. Chell steps over Roderich, lifts the turret up and hands it over to Wheatley. Everyone was confused. Why wasn’t it shooting everybody like the other turrets?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I got scared” The turret spoke.

“Relax. It’s a defective turret” said Chell to reassure her confused and anxious friends.

“What are we going to do with it?” Alfred asks, hauling Roderich to his feet.

“Please don’t send me back to Her!” The turret began pleading.

“We could keep it…” Jonesy suggests.

“No!”

“Be nice Roderich! The poor thing doesn’t want to go back upstairs to that mad woman and I don’t blame it” Lauren snaps.

“Lauren has a good point” Wheatley added “It is harmless. You just startled it and it shot you out of fear”

The group discuss the matter some more until an agreement was reached. The turret was allowed to stay.

The turret was named Agent Aria by Lauren because it loves to sing. Whenever somebody was feeling down; Aria would stand next to them and sing their favourite songs until they cheered up. Aria loves it’s human companions as much as it loves the stickers that it is given. Life was very good for the musical turret.

(This is way longer than what I expected it to be. Enjoy my meh writing skills)