#Had to flick some switches in the control panel. Came back a few minutes later like ''why am I seeing chains of causation tying

[blackvahana]

"I'm starting to think an orrery is going to - why does my music have to devolve into clicking machinery lmfao - be an actual grounded part of this place" and that's what we call foreshadowing my friends

[motherofwoofers]

A Very Verfound Christmas

This is my gift to @verfound for the LBSC Secret Santa 2020 -Extravaganza! This it a Teen rated fic for some implied thoughts, and the ability to keep up with vague clues! 

---

Here’s the thing-

When he’d woken up this morning, he had every intention of celebrating a short work day and another successful year of endless toy making. After all, it was Christmas Eve. Work. Watch the sleigh launch. Rock out in one of the Jingle Halls. Join the rest of the elves in bringing in the Christmas Dawn. Then sleep the entirety of Christmas Day.

As he had the last seventy odd years.

But as of five seconds ago, he was pretty sure he didn’t even remember his own name, let alone what he was doing later tonight, or even what he needed help with-

“What?” Luka blinked rapidly, before clearing his voice. Bright blue eyes blinked back.

“Do you need help with those?” Liquid sugar rolled off her tongue, he was certain of it. There was no other feasible way for her voice to be so sweet and melodic. Liquid sugar from pink glossed lips.

Those?

It took him a moment before his mind snapped back into action. Those.

Those were a pallet of last minute dolls that had been assembled and programmed incorrectly. Which, in reality wasn’t even in his department of toy making. They were his green haired absentee best friend’s. A certain friend who had slapped his ass, clocked off early, and dashed, leaving him to try to figure out how to get an entire pallet of singing ice queen dolls fixed, wrapped, and loaded onto the sleigh before launch.

Except, he really didn’t mind all of a sudden.

“I’m, uh, looking to drop these off with the doll repair department. Except I don’t even remotely know where that is,” he tried to drop his best grin at the end, and bit back a goofy grin when her face lit up red.

“Oh,” bright blue eyes blinked again, “this is the art department.” He watched as a small frown turned down her sweet lips, a furrow forming between her soft dark brows. His heart pounded in his chest painfully as a full pout took over the elf’s face. Then just as quickly, her face was lighting up, eyes wide. “Hold on one second! Stay right there! I think I can help.” The raven haired girl disappeared behind the door he had just knocked on, door shutting with a loud click in his face before his attention was drawn to the loud whirring around the corner.

Pulling the pallet of dolls along, he followed the sound to see a large bay door opening, as well as a sight he’d never let his mind forget.

Back lit by the shop lights behind her, the elf stood before him, hands triumphantly placed on her hips as she grinned at him. Curvy. Petite. And dressed in something he was pretty sure wasn’t the usual uniform. Because if it was, he was switching departments immediately.

Red and white striped stockings ran the length of her legs, a hint of creamy skin revealed where garters kept them in place, before disappearing beneath a red tutu flared out just enough to test the boundaries of cute and oh. A black vest trimmed in glitter wrapped her frame like a second skin, dipping dangerously low in the front. A view he knew would become increasingly distracting the closer he stood to her. He could just make out the twin coat tails attached in the back to round out her look.

Oh, sweet candy canes.

A sculpted arm waved him forward, “Come on in. I’m Marinette by the way.”

He was fairly certain he’d left his jaw on the floor, a good meter behind him, when he tried to respond, “Luka. Luka Couffaine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luka Couffaine,” she giggled, leading him further into the shop. Smooth, Couffaine.

Most of the machines and monitor screens were quiet, though some of the holo displays still had their most recent projects lit up and rotating. Lights were slowly kicking back on as they moved towards what looked like a small carpeted studio area, sectioned off from the immense space with a curved control panel. Then there was the color. It was everywhere, on everything. The control panel itself looked as if someone had gone crazy with spray paint and glitter glue. An extreme contrast to his department, where most of the spaces were walled off and smaller, but cozy and themed.

Two different ways to keep inspiration high.

“Go ahead and bring them over here so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Marinette pointed towards an empty space near a work table. As he powered the hover units down on the hand truck, effectively parking the dolls, he became aware of one very specific thing:

The Couffaines definitely had a pixie kink.

Marinette stepped out of heels he hadn't even been aware she was wearing, until she went from chin height to his chest.

And just as she had dropped in height, so did his eyes. Beaming blue eyes, determined pink lips, and --ffff the swell of her chest, emphasized by the matching red bra he could just barely see peeking from beneath. Being tall was both a blessing and a curse. When it came to which one it was right now, he was fairly certain his name was dropping rapidly from the Nice List.

Tearing his eyes away, Luka shifted his attention back to the original problem at hand.

“The doll is dressed in her sister’s attire, and to top it off the music department loaded it with the wrong song. This is the first movie’s song, and not the recent release.” He lifted the platinum haired doll, easily sliding her from the plastic twists they’d been forced to switch too. A small hand reached out to take the doll from his hand, before it was meticulously examining the fabrics. He would’ve expected the petite elf’s hands to be soft and smooth, but they were nearly as strong and callused as his own.

“I think we can fix this. How long do we have before launch?” She swivelled away quickly, setting a few things into motion as she took control. A holoscreen popped up from the control panel, before she flicked it up into the air to hover a few meters off the ground. The countdown to launch was displayed in bright red numbers. “Oh good, we’ve got five minutes until launch. Plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time?” He questioned, a bit disbelieving. Granted, it was a decent amount of time, but how in the world were they going to get it done. “I don’t know anything about dolls. I work in sound effects.”

“They essentially just need their outfits updated, which I can do. And the correct song recorded over their music chip, which you can do.” She was already pulling the dolls free from their boxes, while simultaneously preparing the work space before her.

“Amazing,” he breathed to himself. “I don’t know how to record songs onto these, though.”

“Don’t worry! We used to fix stuff all the time in my old department. You know those toys where the voice doesn’t sound like the actual character? That’s because it’s an elf,” she whispered, even though it was just the two of them. “They’ve got a small recording studio in here, we just need to get the right song track set up and you’ll sing over it. And don’t worry, the program will alter your voice, no talent needed!”

She made it all seem so simple.

He stood there for a moment watching her move about, removing clothes from the dolls, sourcing different fabrics, and selecting different re-hue pens.

All he had planned on doing was dropping them off, and now here he was, fixing them.

But there was definitely nowhere else he’d rather be than where he was right now.

Wandering over to the recording studio on the other side of the control panel, he flicked through a few of the screens that hummed to life, but found it hard to keep his eyes from drifting.

“Your outfit is pretty cute. Were you going to one of the parties or a date?” He watched out of the corner of his eye to avoid facing her directly. But he wished he had when he saw the beautiful rosy color from earlier spread across her cheeks and bloom all the way to the tips of her elegantly pointed ears. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of your plans.”

A tiny squeaked, “Thank you,” came long before the rest of her response. “No date. A celebration actually. I don’t normally dress sooo…..” she waved her hands at her body.

“Oh?” The audio track he needed began to play loudly in the speakers around him, blaring out high notes neither of them were prepared for. Marinette nearly fell from the stool she’d placed herself on, naked doll and hue-pens flying, as he scrambled to turn it down. “Sorry!”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Her hands were waving him off as she went in search of her things, dropping onto her hands and knees. He could see her crawling around underneath the control panel, skirt bobbing dangerously. Pale skin flashed, and the bare curve of her rear came into view for a moment’s breath, before her skirt dipped to cover her once more.

“I’m definitely on the naughty list,” he muttered. Taking a moment to himself, Luka closed his eyes and dropped into the swivel chair behind him, swivelling slowly. Think about something else. Anything else.

“Are you kidding me? After we fix this fiasco right before launch, we are going on the Nice list for sure. I would know!” Luka stopped spinning to find Marinette settled on her stool and working on the dolls once more.

“There’s no way you’ve ever been on the Naughty List.”

Mischievous blue eyes looked over at him, sending his heart fluttering once more, before she grinned. “I’ve been on the Naughty List.”

He sat up in his seat, intrigue pulling him to full attention. With an impatient flick of his wrist, the screen between them flew off to the right, taking the lyrics with it.

“Do tell.”

“Wellll, I got in trouble for a little breaking and entering and theft of personal property,” he watched her lips roll between her teeth as she tried to keep up her nonchalant facade. He blinked, surprised none the less.

“Hardcore,” he grinned, thoroughly satisfied when her face flamed up again.

“I didn’t keep it!” She squeaked out and he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of his chest.

“I believe you,” he winked. Her blush deepened, and she swivelled away to hide the way she bit into her lip. Damn did that feel good.

Pulling the lyrics back in front of him, he set about analyzing the song and tune, easily working silently in the space with her. He took a quick glance at the countdown, and breathed a sigh of relief when it read five minutes ‘til launch still.

Positioning the microphone in front of his face, he lost himself in the song. Testing out his ability to reach with his vocals, muscles he didn’t get the chance to use as frequently as his other band members.

“Wow.”

Luka looked up to find Marinette only a few paces away, clutching a full arms worth of redesigned dolls. The amazement on her face, brought blood rushing to his own cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and poured more focus than necessary into saving the music file.

“You’re beautiful-- I-- I mean your voice is beautiful! I didn’t know you could actually sing,” she was setting the dolls down and moving closer, the smell of sweet baked goods surrounding her and intoxicating his senses.

“Well, these dolls look like they should be on collector’s shelves.” He lifted one of the ice queens up, marvelling at Marinette’s ability to not only change the entire outfit but make it better than the original. He followed her lead as she sent the dolls through a reprogramming shoot, catching them at the end to repackage them. “You didn’t learn those skills from the mass production team.”

The smile on her face caught his attention. The way it lifted her cheeks, set light to her eyes. She pulled the doll from his fingers, and he realized he’d been staring.

“No. I actually learned on my own. It’s a hobby of mine- making clothes. So doing it in miniature wasn’t too hard.” The machines around him were shutting down as he realized she had already finished packing everything away. Not to be the worst helper around, he carried most of the boxes back to the pallet. “Your voice. It really is amazing, you know.” She turned to him brightly as he powered the hover units back on, and the hand truck lifted from the ground. “You remind me of one of my favorite performers! Jolly Stone!”

“I love Jolly Stone! I’m actually in a band, we’re performing later tonight. If you’d like, you could come watch us perform. We’re not famous or anything. Just my sister and two of our friends.”

“Oh. That sounds fun, but I’ve got my party right after this! Which actually-” she glanced at the countdown- ”I’m late for! It’s five minutes ‘til launch!” He watched her devolve into panic, frantically searching for her things. She looped a scarf around her neck, slipping her arms into a long coat that fell past her skirt. Standing on one leg, she attempted to put her heels on, before tipping forward. With speed he wasn’t aware he’d possessed, he leapt forward catching her in his arms before she could take a spill onto the floor.

Sugar plum fairies were going to be dancing in his dreams tonight.

Delectably sweet smelling, and tantalizingly light in his arms. He found himself molding her small frame to his body as he lifted her to her feet. Those bright blues caught him again, and parted lips begged for him to lean in. Painfully he let his hands drift away from her body once he was sure she was steady, and immediately he wished he hadn’t.

Her next attempt was far more successful, and even still he offered his arm to her as they left the art department. When her hand slipped around his elbow to secure herself, he let the smile show on his face. Then let the grin take over, when Marinette dipped her face down, blush rising up her ear tips.

“I don’t wear heels often. I’m a total klutz, I should’ve known better.” He frowned at her self admonishment, but kept any comments to himself. “I just thought they went so well with my outfit. Plus I wanted to look cute for my party.”

“Right, this party. You said it was a celebration and you’re late?”

“Oh, yes! My old coworkers and friends are throwing me a party for my promotion. I’m actually from district South 12th. I was, um, going through some things. Naughty List and all,” an embarrassed giggle slipped free, but she continued on. “So, when I saw a management position pop up in South 10th’s Art Department, I applied for it. Today was my first day.”

“First of all, congratulations on the promotion. Second, I’m sorry to hear you were going through some things, but I’m not sorry that it led you here. Otherwise I’m not sure I would’ve met you.” He gave her a small bump with his arm, but made sure to keep a tight grip on her hand just in case.

“Me too.” And when he glanced down she was smiling brightly to herself.

“So after we drop these off at Wrappings, I could walk you to your party if you’d like? I have to meet my sister in South 12th anyways.”

“Does your sister work in South 12th?”

“Yeah, she’s in the music department though. Not art, so not sure you’d know her.” As they came around the corner, they found themselves in line with the other last minute toy deliverers.

“I actually have friends in music!” Luka watched as her face scrunched up in thought, nose wiggling adorably. “Hmmm, Couffaine.... Wait a second!” She turned to him, eyes searching his face, furrow finding her brows. “Juleka’s last name used to be Couffaine. Are you related to her?”

And this was the moment when Luka realized that the whole Christmas-Magic-works-in-mysterious-ways thing his mother always claimed, was in fact, real.

“That’s my sister,” he chuckled, watching the excited surprise on her face.

“She never mentioned having a hot brother!” The loud gasp, before she slapped a pale hand over her mouth made him laugh harder. “I mean… she never mentioned having a brother,” she sputtered.

“Of course she wouldn’t. I’m lame in her book.” Externally he was playing it cool, but internally he was pretty sure his insides were about ready to burst. The most amazingly adorable and badass elf he had ever met thought he was hot.

A Wrappings coordinator waved them towards a platform to leave their pallet on, and Luka took the opportunity to calm his excitement, so that he didn’t look like a giddy cherub when he sauntered back to her side.

“You know, Jueka was going to my party. And I’m not sure if you had any other plans, but if you have time before your performance… you could come celebrate with us. It’s not just a coworkers thing. But if you don’t want to or don’t have time, I totally understand. It is last second after all, and you barely know me-”

“Marinette.” Her lips clamped closed suddenly, and those eyes he was beginning to truly lose himself too, watched him.

“I would love to go to your party with you. My performance isn’t until right before the Christmas Dawn. I’ve got all night.” He slid his hands into his pockets, to keep them from reaching out to hold her again. The expressions crossing her face were a mixture of excitement and worry, but he kept his thoughts and limbs to himself while she worked out whatever was on her mind.

“Do.. do you have a date for Christmas Dawn?” So quiet, hesitant.

“Not unless my Ma counts,” he winked, heart beginning to pound again.

“Would you like to be mine?” YES. “I- I mean my date?” That too.

“I would love to be yours, Marinette- your date.” Pulling his hand free from his pocket, he offered it to her. She slipped her small hand into his without hesitation, smile setting her face aglow.

“Shall we?”

[snowdice]

Little Kestrel (Part 10)[Birds of Different Feathers Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan & Patton & Virgil (future Virgil/Patton but not in this story)

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton, Virgil

Appear: Thomas

Mentioned: Janus

Summary:

It was supposed to be a quick job either way. Either Virgil would assassinate King Thomas of Prijaznia or he’d be caught and get executed. Yet, when Virgil gets the wrong bedroom and gets caught by Prince Logan and his future royal advisor, Patton, the job ends up getting way more complicated for the 14-year-old. He also ends up sleeping in a (actually pretty comfortable) closet for a few weeks…

Notes: Implied/referenced child abuse, assassination attempt, knives, torture mentioned, captivity, teenagers being really dumb

This is a prequel to Kill Dear. I wrote it 100 words at a time on my blog, but this is the edited version. If you want to see how it was crafted, look at the tag proofread stories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Patton spent most of his day setting up the closet into a makeshift bedroom. Logan helped him move the clothing that had been in that closet to a storage area in the potion’s lab, and Patton fussed over the arrangement of the pillows and blankets for far longer than necessary. Now he was putting up little decorations on the walls. He continuously asked for Virgil’s opinion, and Virgil continuously seemed startled by that fact. Logan observed their interactions from across the room as they sat halfway into the closet. He was currently fiddling with the star shaped lights Patton had wanted him to make.

He figured Virgil would appreciate having multiple light setting options for the lights since they’d be above his head all night. Logan had only ever made them with on and off settings before, so he’d grabbed a few of his books; he currently had one in his lap. While he’d already figured out how to make preset settings and had programmed four: off, 100%, 50% and 25%, now he was working on the possibility of making a sliding dimmer and options that affected different groups of lights differently. It was a bit more complex of a task, but it should be doable.

“There!” Patton said. “Nice and comfy!” Logan glanced up to see the way Virgil’s head tilted like he was trying to puzzle Patton out. Patton just smiled at him. “Go ahead and test it out!” he suggested. “We can switch things around if you want.”

Virgil obediently crawled into the closet and onto the makeshift bed Patton had made.

“Lay down and make sure it’s okay,” Patton coaxed.

Virgil did, laying down on the pile of pillows and blankets and laying his head on the pillow that had been reserved for that purpose.

“Is it okay?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked long and slow like he was very much contemplating going to sleep right then and there. Logan wondered if the potion was still affecting him or if he was just still exhausted from before. Perhaps it was both. “Yeah,” the boy answered softly.

Patton turned to look at Logan. “Are the lights done?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” Logan said. “They will be ready before it is time to sleep.”

“Sounds good!” Patton said. “We should probably think about dinner soon.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment and waved his hand over the light he’d been working on. It lit up dim and then slowly increased in power as he moved his hand. Perfect! Now that he’d figured it out, it would not take long to get the rest of the lights working properly. Then he’d just have to make the control panel to control which light turned on when and install them.

He was just about to shut off that first light when there was a soft knock at the door.

“Patton,” Patton’s mom’s voice called.

Logan shared a panicked glance with Patton. “Just a second,” Patton called back. “I told her you were sick,” he whispered just loud enough for Logan to hear him.

Logan jumped into action. He shoved the unlit lights under his desk along with his books and lobbed the lit one towards the closet. It missed and bounced on the ground, but Patton seemed to get the idea and picked it up, handing it to Virgil. “Sorry, sorry,” Patton said to the boy. “Just be quiet please.”

Logan hurried over to his bed and pulled the covers up over himself. Patton was there in the next second tossing a cloth over his forehead; hopefully she wouldn’t notice that it was not wet. Then, Patton was zipping to the door. He glanced back at Logan when he got there who nodded, laying back. He pulled open the door. “Hi Mama!” Patton said cheerfully.

“I brought you boys up some dinner,” she said.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Patton said sweetly; for someone who always preached the virtues of truthfulness, he was an awfully good fibber. “I could have come down and gotten us something. I was actually thinking about it right before you knocked.”

“It was no trouble,” Patton’s mom said. “I brought chicken and noodle soup for Logan since he wasn’t feeling well.” She looked over at Logan and smiled softly. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“I’m doing better. Ms. Heart, thank you,” Logan said.

She pushed a small cart past Patton loaded with food then and brought it to his bedside. “I brought chicken and noodle soup, some bread and butter, and a few apples from the garden for you two. Do you want anything else?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” Logan said.

“This is great, Mama,” Patton said. “Thank you.” He seemed to be subtly angling to hurry her out of the door, but she did not leave right away.

“What did you two do today?” she asked.

“I mostly slept,” Logan lied. “And I read a bit.”

“I mostly just read too and helped Logan out.”

She continued to talk to them for a few more agonizing minutes before standing to leave. “Are you staying with Logan again tonight, sweetie?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Patton said. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll come check on you both in the morning.”

They both smiled and nodded as she left the room. Patton slumped against the bed when she was gone. “Hiding an assassin in your closet is stressful,” he said.

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, sitting up in bed.

Patton got off the bed and went back over to the closet. “Sorry about that,” he said. Virgil was still sitting in the closet with the light in his lap. “But we have dinner! Want to come eat?”

He nodded immediately and crawled out of the closet. His bracelets vibrated slightly when he crossed the threshold and they shifted from the mode that let him move freely to the one that made him move slowly.

They split the dinner. Luckily, Patton’s mom always provided more than enough food so there was plenty for each of them. Virgil seemed content with all the food but seemed particularly fond of the apples. Between that and his reactions to the honey and pancakes, Logan wondered if he had a secret sweet tooth. After eating, Logan quickly finished up the other lights and worked on installing them as Patton went poking around in Logan’s other closet and drawers for something Virgil could wear for sleeping and possibly a change of clothing or two for future days.

“I’m going to go get some stuff from my room really quick,” Patton said once they’d found suitable clothing. He set the clothes in the closet next to the bed so Virgil could change in privacy later. “Will you two be okay?”

Logan hummed his assent, continuing to work on getting the lights in the exact right place.

Once he was satisfied, he motioned Virgil over. “These are your lights,” he explained. “You can control them with this panel I set up.” He pointed to it and then flicked through the four preset light settings. “You can also customize how much brightness you wish to have by waving your hand over the panel slowly.” He demonstrated. “You should be able to reach it fairly easily with your right hand when you are laying down.”

Virgil nodded and then tilted his head up so he could look at the lights on the ceiling. Logan had set them to 25% intensity. “It’s the sky,” Virgil said awed.

Logan smiled, please that he’d noticed. “It isn’t completely accurate, but I did my best, at least with the brighter ones.” Virgil looked over at him and for the first time, Logan thought he didn’t see any fear in his eyes. “Is it adequate?”

“It’s great,” he breathed. After that brief moment of calm, he seemed to remember himself, growing wary once again. The contrast between his usual countenance and the one from the moment before inexplicably saddened Logan.

“You must have watched the night sky many times if you can recognize it in a glance,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “I did every night at the orphanage in the summer. There was a book on constellations that I found. The matron used to be willing to read me up to three of the names every night. I don’t remember them all, but I remember a few.”

“Which is your favorite?” Logan asked.

“I really liked the one of the Girl Who Sowed the Forest.”

“I made that one,” Logan said. He leaned over and fiddle with the panel a bit, causing most of the stars to dim except for a dozen.

Virgil smiled at it, and even held up a finger to trace the design of the girl with her basket.

“Do you know the myth behind that constellation?” Logan asked.

Virgil shook his head.

“It’s about a young girl,” Logan began, “who lived in a town at the edge of a forest. Her exact age varies in the retellings, but usually she is somewhere between 10 and 12 years old. She loved the surrounding forest and would spend hours in it some days picking berries, watching animals, and just exploring. One day, there was a fire. In some stories, a group of soldiers came through and set it; in other’s it was a god who was angry at them. Yet, in most it was a member of the village who was careless and accidently set their village on fire during the night. The village burned down, and the fire spread to the forest. It killed most of the people in the village and burned for weeks. Eventually, it was put out by a rainstorm. The girl was taken by the surviving members of her village somewhere else to finish growing in a less baren place. Years passed until she hit adulthood. Her people sent young men and women on soul searching trips when they came of age. She did not mean to return to her old village and the still destroyed forest, but she stumbled upon it anyway. She looked upon the landscape that had once been her home. The land had not healed since she had left. It was still all ruined and it made her heart ache. She decided then and there that she would take it upon herself to heal what had been broken. She remembered from her childhood what plants and trees used to grow there and went and found seeds from other places and people and brought them back to her home. She spent the rest of her life living in a house she built in her old village, planting seeds, and helping the forest grow once again. By the time her life came to an end, the forest was returning. They say when the trees of that forest finally grew tall enough, years after her passing, they themselves placed her image in the sky.”

“Wow,” Virgil said. “I didn’t know the myths were that complex.”

“I also enjoy watching the stars,” Logan said, “and constellations are good for navigation. I’ve found the stories people have made up about them more often than not are meant to help one navigate life.”

“Do you know others?” he asked tentatively.

“I do,” Logan confirmed. “Would you like to hear another?” He nodded, and Logan reached over to turn all of the stars back to 25%. “Which one would you like to hear about next?”

When Patton returned, he didn’t disturb their conversation. Instead, he just sat down silently next to Logan and listened to the stories.

Virgil started to droop part way through the third story, and Patton suggested he lay down. He tucked the boy in as Logan continued the story. Eventually he fell asleep, face lit lightly by the hanging stars.

“Okay,” Patton said when Logan ended the story and Virgil still didn’t stir.” I think it’s probably time for us to go to bed too. Logan nodded and they both stood. Logan quietly shut the closet door and checked the binding spell around the closet’s exit to make sure it would hold. Then, he and Patton got ready to go to sleep themselves.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Astrodust”

Hope you guys have fun with this one. I’m currently taking a class on this sort of thing, and its really quite fascinating. I thought it would be fun to do a story based on the idea :) Tell me what you think. 

Hurry it up, Convict, damn if this goes any slower ill have evolved and regrown my leg by the time you finish.”

The outer hull cameras flashed with movement as “Conn.” Flipped the captain the bird and went back to his work, the true meaning of the gesture was rather dampened by the fact that Conn only had four fingers. Thousands of white tendrils billowed into space behind his thin white frame. Large black eyes glittered in the light of the nearby gas-giant as he worked. Krill shifted nervously as he watched the creature work, floating eerily over one of the outer panels of the ship, a tool belt strapped about his thin waist, he looked oddly out of place with the tools gripped in his thin fingers.

Conn, as was his moniker, was a Starborn, a member of a sentient telepathic race of space creatures capable of surviving in the vast blackness of space. They had come across them not so many months ago, and during those few days of contact captain Vir had been, in order, saved by them, induced into aggressive tonic colonic seizures, burned by the cold, driven into a near crazed state, and then almost killed brutally by way of functional brain wiping.

He was not particularly fond of the Starborn to say the least. Turns out Conn, or “Convict.” As the captain so fondly called him, was not far off from the actual idea. When the captain had come into his life, he was only a day away from execution on accusations of, “Attempting to maintain secret thoughts.” Not only was it a delinquent, but it may as well have been a convict, and, according to the Catpain, Conn was an absolute ass. So far, he was the only person Conn had been able to contact telepathically, and he seemed to glee in annoying the captain to no end. Krill was under the impression he only kept Conn around because he had agreed to help with dangerous exterior repairs for the ship.

“Shove it up your ass, Convict.” The captain grumbled turning towards the controls to the ship. On the screen, the glowing white creature bared its teeth in a sick approximation of a grin shoving the tool back into the belt loop and slamming the panel shut in the silence.

“What did he say?” Krill wondered.

“Nothing useful.” The Captain muttered before leaning back in his seat, “You know that gasline that broke before we ran into the Starborn, yeah, anyway, in all the confusion, we forgot to fix it, and it may take a couple of days if he wants to do it correctly. He will want to go through my ‘memory bank’ for the instructions, and he suggests that we don’t travel during that time. Seems that the warp destabilized the mainline enough that he’d be worried about doing another one because, as he says, our stupid little air-heads would explode…. Little bitch.” He added as an afterthought.

“What are we going to do till then captain, the admiral won’t like it if you’re late to your own ranking ceremony.”

“Yeah, I know, which is why I’m not particularly happy about it, but I’ll call it in and we can check out one of those moons we scanned in on when we warped in. It looks like there might be a breathable atmosphere, and that means….”

“Life?”

“Bingo…. Get the HELL out of my head, Convict!”

Krill stepped back a little in surprise. It was really disconcerting when the Captain did that. He didn’t tend to talk to Conn inside his head, and voiced his thoughts aloud out of habit. It lead for some very interesting outbursts in the middle of a quiet morning.

Vir motioned to Sunny, “Grab a team of your Drev and the marines, get a landing party ready, and set up my gear. I’ll be down as soon as I requisition the parts for repair, and tell this asshole how to fix the ship. Krill.” He turned away from Sunny and glanced over at Krill, “I want you with us this time. It seems like every time we end up planet side someone has to stick their squishy bits into something painful… me…. Mostly me.”

Sunny nodded, “Yes sir.” Stepping off the deck and clattering down the hallway. Krill sighed but followed after trying to decide just exactly which medical pack he should be taking. It didn’t take him long to decide he should take the extra-large size. He would have to find one of the marines to carry it for him seeing as it weighed more than Krill overall.

***

Captain Vir had strapped himself into the pilot’s seat flipping switches and turning dials like he had been born in the cockpit. The rest of the crew sat back joking and laughing quietly. After the first few months of unease around each other, the marines had become good friends with the Drev soldiers. It didn’t really surprise Sunny, she knew the marines, and if anyone had a Drev mindset, it was those men. Krill sat with them, his diminutive frame dwarfed by huge, muscle bound marines, and the 7-10 foot tall Drev. Sunny stared straight ahead at the wall unwilling to acknowledge the figure that sat next to her.

Moss, once upon a time she had liked him, and fancied him a good match as a future partner, but now, she could muster up nothing more than mild contempt for the Drev that had spurned her advances. She was one of the clan’s greatest warriors now, and she would not go sniveling back, no matter how many times he insinuated he would be interested. Perhaps she would find a better match, perhaps she already had.

Too bad, she thought, maybe if you had bothered to consider me BEFORE I became the greatest warrior the clan has known, than I wouldn’t be so inclined to reject you. She felt the engines below her rev, and Captain Vir maneuvered the ship into the airlock. Ahead of them, space opened above.

The captain jerked in his seat with a yelp. The crew turned to look, finding that Conn had snuck up against the side window and was making faces at the captain. Vir slammed his fist against the glass where the Starborn’s face was, “F*** off.” The Starborn gave a cheery wave at them as he floated into the airlock to retrieve the tools he would need for the repair, and then they were off, coasting through space.

The captain was the best pilot that Krill had ever known, and their entry into atmo was remarkably smooth. He easily maneuvered them through different layers controlling the ship as it tried to shake. Looking out the window, the sky above was blue; that was a good sign. They rocked into the landing sight not minutes later, and the captain powered down the ship running a quick atmospheric scan, “Oxygen content is a bit higher than normal, but it’s definitely breathable.” He said as he unstrapped form his seat. The marines and the Drev racked their helmets in response before moving back to preparing their weapons. Marines secured magazines into their rifles, while the Drev prepared a more eclectic variety of weapons.

The captain grabbed a rifle off the rack, and loaded it falling into a bent knee isosceles stance at the back of the group rifle down and ready finger hovering over the safety. The rest of the crew stacked up on the door while Krill watched, “Go.” The captain ordered flicking the safety off his weapon, as someone shoved open the door and the group of them flooded outwards weapons held at the ready fanning out into a wide half-circle. The captain fell in behind the marines taking a deep breath of air and scanning across the horizon.

“Report.”

“No signs of life sir, well, no animals anyway, tons of plants though.” One of the marines said nudging a nearby plant with his boot. It was an odd looking thing, a collection of roughly tubular stocks branching out of a single point. Each of the tubes had a channel running through the middle most closely resembling some sort of underwater sponge. As the marine’s foot came in contact with the plant, one of the stocks contracted lightly making a light puffing noise. The Marine took a step back.

“Careful, marine, we don’t know anything about this place, so it’s best to keep our hands and feet to ourselves.” The captain said coming forward to examine the plant, “Alright everyone, this is a simple recon mission. We walk around, maybe we take some samples with us back to the ship. If we see any wildlife, do not, I repeat, do not approach it. Do not touch any of the planets with bare hands until we have samples, and definitely do not put anything in your mouth….”

“Speaking from experience, CF?” One of the marines responded cheekily. The captain flipped him the bird, and the motioned them to move out. Krill remained at the center of the group where he would be most protected. Off to his right, one of the men carried the medical bag. As he floated, he clung to one of the Drev soldiers so that he wouldn’t slow them down or be left behind.

They adventured on the surface of the planet for some time, finding an eclectic array of plants getting bigger and bigger and taller and taller as they went further in. Those large sponges reached the height of a man’s chest by the time they decided to turn around. The captain lamented that they couldn’t stay here after dark as it seemed there was evidence of bioluminescent proteins in the plantlife.

They were almost to the ship when one of the marines let off an explosive curse. The group turned to look at him to find him shaking his foot and hopping up and down. The plant next to his foot was smoking.

“The hell, marine.” The captain demanded,

“Sorry sir,” He stammered, “I scuffed my boot on the ground, steel toe you know, and there were sparks everywhere.”

“Shit, get this under control till we burn down the entire planet, the higher oxygen content will make the fire worse than it should be.” At his order the group quickly surrounded the, now smoking, plant trying to create a barrier so it wouldn’t be able to move. It was a good sized sponge thing, and by the time they were done, the entire plant was up in flames billowing smoke left and right.

The group of them stood back to watch it burn glowering at the marine who had started the fire in the first place. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, Captain.” They all shook their heads at him. The captain reached up and wiped at his forehead with a hand. A light sheen of sweat glittered at his hairline, “Damn, it’s hot.” He remarked absently. One of the marines took a deep breath and nodded, he was sweating too.

“Worked up a bit of a sweat there.” Another commented hand over his chest, “I didn’t think we were working that hard.”

The man glanced down at his watch in confusion, “Hm, that’s weird.” One of the other marines looked over his shoulder, “120 bpm, dude, you’re out of shape.”

The captain glanced down at his watch, “Shit, me too.” He commented, “Anyway, we wait to make sre this burns out, and then we head back towards the ship.” The marines nodded, and the group of fanned out sitting on rocks or standing in the light of the sun.

The captain stood next to Sunny and Krill rifle resting lightly in its tac-sling. A trail of sweat trickled down the side of his face. “Hot.’ He muttered again.

“No it isn’t. “ Sunny said, the surface of the planet was at 65 degrees by her reckoning, as far as she was aware that was within comfortable temperature for a human. The human turned to look at her mouth open in protest, but as his eyes fell on her face her jerked back in sudden startlement nearly tripping over himself and back onto the burning sponge. Sunny caught him by the arm. The captain rubbed his eyes, “Thanks sunny, I thought I saw…..” He looked up eyes going wide, he jerked away from sunny violently backing away with his hands up. His pupils had contracted.

“Captain, are you ok?” Sunny asked.

One of the marines screamed.

Everyone turned to find the human hopping around batting at his uniform screaming, “Get them off, get them off GET THEM OFF!” There was nothing there.

Off to the side one of the marines was resting on a rock staring upwards into the empty air tilting his head back and forth as if he was following some unknown object back and forth across the sky. Another stood next to him her hands outwards staring at them with wide eyes, “When did my hands get so…. Massive?” She wondered idly.

Sunny turned to Krill, all of the Drev did, ���What the hell.”

Captain Vir had backed away a few steps, tripped over a rock and landed flat on his back. He was staring up at the sky an expression of memorized wonder on his face. Krill jabbed a hand at the Drev soldiers, “Get them onto the ship, NOW.  Something is effecting them, and if it’s effecting all of them, than it has to be in the air.” The Drev soldiers did as told each scooping one of the humans up in their many arms. It was a rather odd image, Drev soldiers cradling fully-armed marines like you’d carry a child.

Sunny approached and hoisted the captain into her arms. The man lolled listlessly against her arm. His skin was tinted a warm pink about the cheeks. They hurried onto the ship just then. Some of the marines struggled, others commented on things that weren’t there. The one who had commented on the size of her hands earlier gave a wide-eyed look at the ship, “its breathing.” She commented, “The ship is breathing.”

The door slammed shut behind them. One of the Drev soldiers slipped into the captain’s chair. He wasn’t a particularly skilled pilot, but he could make it out of there.

By now Krill had begun looking over the captain. The man was warm to the touch, and indicated an abnormally high body temperature on Krill’s equipment. His heart hammered away at an unreasonable pace as he lolled in his seat.  He found similar things on the other marines, not to mention clear evidence of visual and auditory hallucinations going right along with changes in perception.

The Drev looked on uneasily at the humans as they shifted and squirmed seeing things that weren’t there and responding to conversations they weren’t having. Captain Vir lay on his side now, “I can’t move, head, too big.” The marine who had been screaming about getting them off earlier, was now crying. They were crawling under his skin now, he saw them.

One of the marines had to be restrained. He wanted to step outside to, get some fresh air.

Krill used the coms to call up to the ship, demanding that the medical staff be waiting for them when they got there.

By the time thirty minutes had passed, all of the humans were completely overrun by unknown images and stimuli. The female marine was smiling and rocking, while one of the other marines had to be restrained from digging at his skin. Captain Vir lay with his cheek on the floor absently stroking the cold metal with one hand. He repeated the action over and over again as if he was stroking a cat or a dog, or something particularly fluffy. They approached the ship, and Conn idly floated over to meet them, likely to annoy the captain for a fifth time that day, as he grew closer, the starborn stopped in id space and slowly began backpedaling. His head tilted back a little and he stared upwards at the sky, mouth open hands out to either side. Whatever was affecting the human had clearly made it through the mental link and into Conn’s head.

They floated past and pulled into the docking bay where the medical team was waiting just beyond the airlock. Krill barely had the patience to wait as the compartment was filled with air. The medical team rushed inwards and to the door as it opened. The humans were carried out squirming and babbling. One of the marines had to be strapped down.

“Get them on a saline drip.” Krill ordered, “They’re losing water fast from the high body temperature, get some blood samples. Don’t touch them if you don’t have to, we think they caught it from the air, but we can’t be sure.”

The female Marine was still smiling staring up at the ceiling like she was staring at a choir of angels. A tear dripped down the side of her face.

They were wheeled away into the interior of the ship as the crew stared on in confusion. Captain Vir was rolling from side to side against the orders of the medical staff looking up at their faces with wide eyes, “Aliens,” he whispered.

They were all pulled into the medical bay and transferred to the beds. Space suits, and uniform jackets were pulled off as they were started on saline drips. A few of the marines were relatively calm, but others not so much. Symptoms of paranoia grew and grew and grew until one marine was convinced they planned on stealing his liver.

“What the hell is happening here!” Krill demanded, but none of the medical staff seemed to have an answer. They had been working a while, the captain had curled into a tight ball and refused to uncurl. The symptoms of whatever it was didn’t seem likely to abate any time soon.

As they were working, one of the young airmen walked into the infirmary. He was holding a bleeding hand at elevation, but as soon as he saw what was going on he paused, “Shit, sorry, I can come back later.” Krill growled but shook his head and came over to examine the young man. he sat down for Krill and craned his neck at the captain in the next bed. The man was staring at the edge of the bed with a look of fear in his eyes, “Damn, who gave these guys the bad acid?” the airman wondered

Krill stopped bandaging his hand long enough to look up, “What did you say….”

The man shrugged, “oh sorry, nothing.”

“No, do you know what’s going on.”

The boy blushed, “I well no, but I know what it LOOKS like.”

“And what is that.” Krill demanded impatiently

“Well it looks like all of them are tripping acid.” He paused when Krill stared at him blankly, “Like drugs, you know hallucinogens Lucy in the sky with diamonds, golden dragon, Looney Tunes, Tab, Purple Heart, stardust. Come on magic mushrooms, Molly, angel dust.”

Krill shook his head, “What are the words coming out of your mouth.”

The kid shrugged, “I mean what I said, it looks like they are on acid, you know hallucinations, changes in perception, synesthesia, high temp, and increased heartrate. These guys have got to being some weird shit right about now…. Don’t tell me they didn’t know what they were doing?”

Krill remained silent.

“Well shit, better put on some calming music and hope it doesn’t get bad. You don’t let someone on a trip when they don’t know about it cause….”

Just to the side captain Vir began to scream eyes wide staring at the edge of the bed, he pulled back scrambling away like something was crawling at him over the edge of the bed, the crew had to grab him and hold him as he tried to fight them off convinced of something only he could see.

“Because it could turn into a bad trip really fast.”

The captain was shaking spouting nonsense as they strapped him down. While some of the other marines seemed content to lay there and stare at the ceiling, while others, like the captain fought against something only they could see.

Krill turned to the young man, “How do we get rid of it.”

The kid shrugged, “Far as I know, you can’t just have to wait it of might take six maybe eight hours, but that’s assuming they smoked something conventional and THIS does not look conventional. These guys are tripping hard. No funny perception problems, no special colors. He looks like he’s seeing Satan.”

Krill was not pleased, and the kid turned out to be right. The humans were like that for the next six hours convinced of the things they were seeing fighting against the medical team when they could. Captain Vir seemed suspended in a bubble of absolute horror head moving around breathing hard like THINGS were crawling over the ceiling tormenting him. The Drev soldiers seemed absolutely fine, and Krill didn’t have problems either.

When the humans finally started to come down the young man had convinced them to play some music. Groaning and shaking their heads, the marines started to look around in confusion. Sunny sat next to captain Vir patting his arm as he slowly began to recognize her. The visual disturbances slowly faded until he was lucid enough to look down at his restraints, “This shit again?”

They untied him, and he leaned back looking exhausted, his stomach growled, “That must be what hell feels like….. what happened?”

Sunny frowned, “That kid said to tell you…. Tripping acid, said you would know what that means.”

“F***, really but, how. I’ve never…. Wait. That plant, the one that caught fire.” He glowered over at the marine, “Sanchez! You went and f****ng got us all high.”

“Sorry, Captain.” The man groaned

Captain Vir sighed breathing deeply, “And people do that shit for fun? No thanks, not on your life, no thanks.”

He paused head cocked to the side, “Couldn’t tell if you were a hallucination or not.” He muttered into thin air, “Well SORRY, didn’t mean to accidentally get high and disturb you. You know what, maybe I will. Next time you piss me off, I’m going to get high, then maybe you won’t root around in my head so much.”

Krill wasn’t totally sure if the Captain was still coming down or just talking to Conn. Either way, he vetoed any and all trips back to the planet, at least by humans. It was too easy to mess with the neurotransmitters in a humans head. From what he learned from later research, hallucinogens supposedly acted as a serotonin agonist, and serotonin had a lot to do with perception. The increase serotonin was suspected to cause hallucinations and perceptual disturbances. Some humans were said to do this for fun.

Captain Vir didn’t seem amused, and had to have a long conversation with the crewman who knew about it.

At least Conn seemed less inclined to annoy the man…. even if just a little.

  Street name: Astrodust 

Classification: hallucinogen 

Cite of action: Serotonin 5-HT  re-uptake transporter

Taken: Smoked, trans-dermal application 

[atc74]

To King Size Beds

Square Filled: One Bed For Three

Warnings: All the smut (fem receiving oral, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism), threesome, (escape from the panic room and Y/N freaking out a bit)

Summary: After Jared and Jensen’s confessions in the Panic Room, what happens next will change things forever between them.

Pairing: Jared x Reader x Jensen

Word Count: 1800

Written for: @spngenrebingo (card 2); also written for my girl @supernatural-jackles, who told me she would love to see me write a J2 x Reader, but would never send a request. Here is part two of your request Jen!

Beta’d by: @hannahindie and @pinknerdpanda

A/N: This is now a series as I have multiple parts planned out.

A/N 2: For the purposes of this story Jensen is single and Jared is divorced from Gen. No harm is meant to either of their beautiful families, this is a work of fiction and should be regarded as such. Photos are not mine, found on google.

Read Part 1

Previously in To New Beginnings... “Someone that knows, someone that worries, but is still there after an eighteen hour day,” Jensen added and she turned her head.

“Someone that hugs you even when you didn’t know you needed it,” she whispered, suddenly the room too quiet. “Someone that loves you unconditionally.”

Warm lips pressed into her shoulder. A large hand cupped her cheek and she felt hot breath on her ear.

“We both love you, Y/N. Unconditionally,” Jensen murmured. “We should have told you long ago, but we didn’t want to scare you.”

“I don’t want to be scared anymore, Jen,” she whimpered.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Jared’s voice sounded in her ear, his stubble raising goosebumps on her skin. “You say stop and we stop.”

“I’m sure. I love you both, I think I always have. I don’t want to be without you; either of you,” Y/N hummed as a pair of lips connected with the delicate skin on her neck.

“To panic rooms and giant puppies,” Jensen drawled and his lips connected with hers.

~*~

Jensen’s lips were soft and warm as they slid against hers. She sighed as he tilted his head to the right, deepening the kiss. His tongue slid inside her mouth, tasting every inch of her he could reach, twisting around her own.

“Jare?” she asked pulling away from Jensen. “I’m sorry. I can’t be in here anymore. I-I-we need to get out.”

“It’s okay, baby. We got you,” Jared whispered, placing a gently kiss to her lips. He walked over the control panel and tried again. This time the heavy bolts on the door gave way and it popped open.

Y/N bolted from the room before they could talk to her. When they finally caught up with her, she was outside, having thrown open the large patio doors. She was seated on one of the lounge chairs, her knees pulled up and her head down. She was breathing rapidly and shaking.

“Shhh, it’s okay, darlin’,” Jensen cooed as he knelt down next to her, one hand on her head, the other running up and down her back.

Jared mirrored his position on her other side. “Come on, baby, you gotta breathe for us, okay?” He sat in front of her and pulled her into his lap, her chest again his. “Breathe like me, Y/N. You can do this.”

For a few minutes, she sat in Jared’s lap, trying to mimic his breathing. When she felt Jensen at her back, she had managed to stop shaking.

“There you go, just like that,” Jensen encouraged from behind her. The three of them sat on the lounger and soon their breathing was in sync.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” she apologized, adjusting her body to look at both of them.

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N. We’re the ones who are sorry,” Jared looked ashamed.

“What? Why?” she scoffed.

“Because it was the one surefire way we knew we could get you alone. You know how much we love to prank each other, but this went wrong and we’re sorry” Jensen explained. “We just wanted to have you all to ourselves to see if you felt the same way about us that we felt about you.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me? Why use some elaborate scheme?” she queried, more confused than before.

“Because we’re children,” Jared said sheepishly.

“And because if you didn’t feel the same way, we could blame the alcohol,” Jensen admitted.

“Well, you’re lucky it worked. Now I believe we left off somewhere around here…” her lips collided with Jensen’s roughly as she pounced on him from Jared’s lap.

Breathless, Jensen pulled back and looked at his friend. “Jared, you got a bed in this place?”

“Follow me,” Jared stood and led them back through the house and into the master bedroom.

Y/N took note of the much larger king sized bed and turned to the men behind her. “This bed looks like a perfect spot.”

“Perfect spot for what, Y/N?” Jared’s deep voice rumbled through her.

“For all the making up you’re going to do,” she turned her back to them and sauntered over to the bed. “All the groveling,” she pulled her shirt up over her head, “all the begging,” she threw the shirt, hitting Jensen in the face.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jensen was the first to react, quickly moving toward her and the bed, dropping to his knees as he reached the edge. Jared wasn’t far behind and together their hands and lips roamed every inch of her skin, setting it on fire.

Breathless, she looked up at them through hooded eyes. “Too many clothes.” She started with Jared, helping him remove his shirt, while Jensen was naked and next to her on the bed in record time. Jared stood to remove his pants and soon he was on her other side.

“Baby, tell us what you want? How can we make this up to you,” Jared whispered in her ear.

“We just wanna make you feel good,” Jensen’s words were muffled when his lips slid across her collarbone.

“Touch me, everywhere,” she murmured, her heart racing as she felt both sets of hands on her. With her eyes closed, it was hard to tell who was where. A large hand palmed one breast while the other was lavished with attention as warm, wet lips kissed and sucked at her tit.

Opening one eye, Y/N chanced a glance down her body just as Jared parted her legs, his hands running over the smooth skin of her inner thighs, headed right where she wanted him. She could feel his hot breath over her mound as he switched sides. She moaned out his name.

Jensen switched breasts, lightly nipping the peak and a squeal left her lips followed by his name. She didn’t have time to register any pain he may have caused as Jared’s tongue slowly dragged through her folds.

“Oh God, baby, you taste so good,” his voice vibrated through her core. “Jen, you’re gonna have to taste her.”

“I’ll get my turn,” Jensen confirmed, his lips moving back up her body, settling on one side of her neck, licking and kissing just below her ear. She arched her back in response to their ministrations.

Jared, spurred on by her reaction, slipped two long fingers inside her, pumping them just so, searching and stretching her.

“Jare, more...I...more, p-please,” she pleaded.

“Baby, we haven’t even started with you yet,” Jared chuckled, sucking her clit between his plump lips as he hit the spot inside her he was aiming for.

Her hips bucked, putting more pressure on her bud and she screamed out Jared’s name as she came, a wave crashing over her. She gripped the bed sheets on one side her, Jensen’s head on the other.

“Brother, you’re gonna have to share that with me,” Jensen hummed as his lips traveled over her skin, helping her through her high.

“Give her a minute and you can explore for yourself,” Jared countered and wiped her slick from his chin.

“Christ almighty,” Y/N whimpered as she opened her eyes.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, darlin’” Jensen boasted as he replaced Jared between her legs. “Give me some of this sugar.”

While Jared took his time warming her up, Jensen dove right in like a man starved. His tongue was everywhere at once. He was fucking her tight channel, then licking her lips, pulling them between his own. The tip flicked over her clit, making her buck her hips once more from the sensitivity. “Oh God Jen!” She screamed as the coil tightened quickly.

“Come on, baby, come for us,” Jared encouraged, his lips skimming over hers lightly, his fingers twisting at her nipple.

“Ahhhhh I--I-m’gonna..” a scream ripped from her lungs as she exploded, soaking Jensen’s face and the bed covers, her legs trembling, heart racing and breaths heavy.

“That’s my girl,” Jensen praised her as she slowly came down. His long fingers rubbed soothing circles on her legs and he pressed gentle kisses to her skin.

“That-that was the most intense thing I have ever experienced in my life,” she panted, looking down at Jensen as he crawled his way up her body, a sleepy smile pulling at her lips. “Come ‘ere.”

Jensen laid his body next to hers, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. She could taste herself on him and it only managed to make her want more.

The deeper the kiss became, the more turned on Jared got. He rutted his cock against her hip. “I need you, Y/N.”

“Take me Jare. I’m yours,” she professed and turned to him. “Both of yours.”

Jensen moved to the head of the bed, making himself comfortable. He was content to watch for now, as Y/N rolled over the top of Jared and straddled him, her hips rocking back and forth, coating Jared’s length in her arousal. She looked from Jared to Jensen.

“What about you, Jen?” she implored.

“Don’t worry about me, sugar. We’ll get our time later. Let Jared take care of you,” Jensen acknowledged.

Y/N tilted her hips, the tip of Jared’s cock slipping into her entrance and they groaned together. Jensen stroked himself but kept his eyes locked on hers as she rode Jared. The two of them together were a fucking gorgeous sight, with her tits bouncing and Jared’s giant hands holding her hips as he pounded up into her.

“Touch yourself for us, Y/N,” Jensen directed. “Rub that little clit and make yourself come all over Jared’s cock.” From where he sat, he had a perfect view of Jared slipping in and out of her tight, wet cunt and he jerked himself faster.

Without question, Y/N reached one hand down and started rubbing fast tight circles over her already sensitive bud. Her hips bucked involuntarily at the touch and she clenched her walls tight around Jared.

“Fuck!” Jared bellowed. “You do that again, baby, and I’m gonna come so hard, fill you so full.”

“Please, Jare,” she begged. “Fill me up.”

Jared flipped her to her back and pushed her legs up over his torso, holding tight to her thighs as he fucked her harder.

Jensen scooted closer to them while he stroked himself in time with Jared’s thrusts, fucking into his own hand. He was close and he wanted to shoot his load all over her. He wanted to see her covered in his seed. Just the thought of it was enough to push him over the edge and he gave one final pump, ropes of cum landing on her tits and stomach.

“Christ you look fucking perfect covered in my cum, sugar,” Jensen panted heavily as he dragged one finger through it, offering it to her. Her tongue snaked out from between her swollen lips and licked it from his salty skin. With  his other hand, Jensen played with her clit, but she needed no further stimulation.

“Fuck Jare! Jen!” With a shout of their names, she came for the third time that night. Jared followed behind her, lasting only a couple more thrusts until her tight pussy clamping down on him was too much and emptied himself inside her.

The three of them collapsed in a heap in the middle of the mammoth bed, limbs tangled, not knowing where one began and the others ended. Y/N was nestled somewhere in the middle of Jared and Jensen, breathing heavily and completely blissed out.

“To king size beds.” She looked from Jared to Jensen, then up at the ceiling, her eyes closing, giving into the drowsiness. The three of them drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, content with the knowledge that things had changed between them forever, for the better.

The Whole Enchilada - join the fiesta: @closetspngirl @emoryhemsworth @iwantthedean @meganwinchester1999 @sis-tafics @classssybutsasssy @wilde-abandon @wegoddessofhell @holyfuckloueh @horsegirly99blog @smoothdogsgirl @dolphincliffs @thisismysecrethappyplace @neeadinghugs @roxyspearing @theoriginalvicki @andkatiethings @mrswhozeewhatsis @linki-locks11 @evansrogerskitten @hennessy0274-blog @hobby27 @thisismexxo  @gh0stgurl @charliebradbury1104 @rainflowermoon @blacktithe7 

Jensen’s Jamboree: @supernatural-jackles @dean-winchesters-bacon @cameronbraswell @pices-cutie  @docharleythegeekqueen @maddiepants @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets  @akshi8278 @kathaswings @deansgirl215 @x-waywardaf-x  @elara98azalea 

Jared’s Menagerie: @x-waywardaf-x  @supernatural-jackles @cameronbraswell @squirrel-moose-winchester @amanda-teaches @deansgirl215 

[lupizora]

Curiosity

This was my piece for the @thebnhaspacezine! It was an honor to work together with so many amazing artists and writers to raise funds for The Trevor Project! I enjoyed the whole process greatly, and it was fun to indulge myself into writing about Mecha suits and space with no other than the kickass Kendou (she is one of my favorite BNHA girls in the series). ^w^

Also, a big thank you to my lovely beta readers, @kacchansass and @myloveistoblame for their tremendous help into polishing this story. 

This fic wouldn't have been the same without you~ ♥

Genre: Science Fiction/Adventure

Pairing: Gen

Rating: G

Word Count: 1996

Summary: Satellite Maintenance Leader Kendou Itsuka has faced several challenges during her duties in the past. When an accident occurs, Kendou's choice brings her a step closer to the answer they had been searching for all along.

“Ground Control to Major Tom. Do you copy?”

Kendou smiled as her T-5 mobile suit came to a halt in a series of tremors. The crew never stopped finding new ways to joke about her promotion for the past six months. It didn’t bother her though. Kendou considered it endearing that they indulged her when she was blasting classical music during work. It made the routine of the Satellite more bearable.

She flicked the intercom switch over her head. “Major Tom to Ground Control. How are you guys?”

“Same old, same old.” Fukidashi’s voice wavered through the speakers, the volume rising and lowering as if he was underwater. It was a common characteristic of his species as their heads were an ever-shifting liquid. “Anything new to report, Major?”

Kendou glanced to her right. Floating like a pearly white lance in front of Beta, the Satellite continued its orbit around the planet. Her mobile suit clung on the third crescent structure that circled around the main shaft. Its slow rotation always allowed Kendou to see Alnitak Aa in the distance. Despite several parsecs separating them, her home planet was not able to hide the blue supergiant star. It reminded Kendou of a permanent sun rising behind an invisible horizon.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said. “Dunno if the others have anything else to report.”

“Aren’t they with you?” he asked.

“I’m on my way to them.” A cold feeling traveled along her spine, and Kendou restarted the suit. “What’s wrong?”

Fukidashi took a lot of awful seconds to reply. “We haven’t been able to reach them for fifteen minutes now.”

“And their marks?”

“They are all glitching except yours. I thought it was another interference honestly.”

She sighed. “No need to panic. Make sure backup is on standby and wait for my signal.”

“Roger!”

The T-5 gained speed, its legs thumping against the surface of the Satellite. Her heartbeat pounded as if Kendou was the one running, and her link with the suit wasn’t the only thing responsible. Even the slightest deviation from the routine amounted to a threat. That was the nature of working on nothing remotely Earth-based.

The construction site came into focus along with the bright red TALOS suits of her teammates. They were under attack. Bots swarmed over their every direction as if the surface had come to life. Whatever they did must have been serious to receive such a massive reaction. Kendou didn’t want to point fingers at the moment. She wanted them safe. With a powerful jump, she landed on a robot that threatened the T-6 of Kodai Yui.

“You okay?” Kendou asked.

Kodai gave her a thumbs-up with the suit.

Kendou pointed in the direction she came from. “Communication works that way. Tell them we need reinforcements.”

Kodai seemed hesitant but lead the T-6 away nonetheless.

Up ahead, the rest of the team took a stand against the onslaught. Kendou dashed to their aid, tearing a robot from the T-13’s back.

“Nice save!” Tetsutetsu shouted through the intercom.

They stood back to back, striking down any blue light that moved. The security robots were quick on their four legs. Graced with sharp teeth and claws, they were set on tearing the TALOS suits apart.

The last member with his T-1 was kneeling a few meters away. “Care to explain what’s going on?” Kendou asked him.

“Malfunctioning,” Awase said, panic coloring his words. “Give me two minutes.”

“That’s no simple malfunctioning. What did you do?”

“Nothing! I swear!”

“It all started after we cut that damn cable,” Tetsutetsu grumbled.

“You did what?!” she yelled.

“It snapped on its own! The thing was at least a hundred years old for fuck’s sake. Whoever thought the TALOS suited this job is beyond me. I mean, look at these!” Awase rattled his suit’s burly arms. “You’re putting them to better use now.”

Kendou punched a robot out of the T-1’s range. “Stop complaining like an old man and tell me the plan.”

“I say we punch the thing into oblivion,” Tetsutetsu said.

Awase cursed under his breath. “I’m trying to glue these things together and bypass the security protocol on this delicate equipment. And this is your two cents?”

Kendou didn’t disagree with his reasoning. They strived to maintain a balance with this ancient machinery in the hope that it’d reveal its secrets. Violent approaches were frowned upon for that reason. They had to do something though. Damaging one small part of the Satellite wouldn’t be too troublesome. After decades of human space exploration, the technology still needed a good whack from time to time. Tools don’t make craftsmen; it is how they use them.

“Tetsutetsu! We’ll go with your plan!”

The T-13 turned around mid-punch. A jumbled mess of vowels came through the intercom as its owner tried to object.

“You serious?!” Awase screamed instead. “What part of ‘This is delicate equipment’ you didn’t catch?”

“We are running out of time! I’m gonna do it,” she said. “Just get out of the way.”

“Are you sure, boss?”

In the past, Kendou would have never done anything this reckless. She would have analyzed every variable and form a cohesive plan. They were in space, the most dangerous frontier humans had ever crossed. One thoughtless action and her life would have been at stake. But she would do anything to protect her team. After going through a lot together, their bonds ran deep enough for her to consider them as family.

“Yes! Now take him out of here!”

Tetsutetsu grabbed the T-1 from behind. While Awase struggled to free the suit from his wrestling hold, the T-13’s thrusters led both suits into the darkness of the cosmos.

The moment they were out of reach, Kendou slammed her fist on the control panel. Cracks spread on the Satellite’s surface beneath her feet. She felt rather than heard the rumble it produced, waiting until it stopped to pull her hand back. The suit’s fingers opened with ease. Nothing seemed damaged. Whopping cheers resonated through the intercom as she looked up to reassure them. Then all hell broke loose.

The explosion was soundless, as everything in space should be. So the T-5’s speakers only received Kendou’s screams. The destroyed arms unraveled outside her broken windshield like puzzle pieces floating away to join the stars. Numb and in great pain, Kendou plummeted helplessly under the crescent. Beta’s sole star appeared before her. Together with Alnitak, they cast a crown of light over the planet. Blues and reds and yellows spread around her like spilled watercolors over a dark canvas. Despite her desperation, Kendou was still wishing to protect this breathtaking view with all of her heart.

As she continued her descent into the planet’s shadow, a slice of light remained flickering outside the suit. Slowly, it transformed into a figure much alike Kendou’s. The celestial woman’s fair skin gave off a golden glow, bright enough to conceal the details of her features. Her long midnight hair blended with the cosmos; constellations dancing among the strands.

The woman entered the cockpit as if nothing was there to stop her. With no further resistance, her hands cupped Kendou’s face. They were warm, anchoring Kendou against the crippling cold that wanted to consume her whole. Her breath fogged the glass of her helmet. Still, the celestial’s eyes remained visible like two pools of endless night and knowledge. Leaning close enough for their foreheads to touch, the brightness of the lady’s form consumed Kendou’s line of vision. Her consciousness followed as everything faded to black.

Voices called her name. Someone shook Kendou’s shoulders. Opening her eyes, a blue light greeted her from above. It bounced on Tetsutetsu’s rigid hairdo, giving it a metallic glint. Tears shined on the keratin spikes around his eyes.

“Are you all right?” he shouted.

A cane smacked him on the shoulder. “She will be, if you give her some room to breathe.”

Tetsutetsu stepped back to reveal Shuzenji Chiyo, the space station’s head doctor. Behind her Awase and Kodai observed the scene, visibly relaxing after a good look at Kendou.

They were in the station’s infirmary. Screens stood in place of windows, usually running diagnostics on the current patients—Kendou in this case.

“Boss…” Awase started, clenching his fists on his sides. “We… I’m sorry for what happened! I’m ready to receive my punishment!”

“Wait a minute, man! It was my idea. You should punish me!” Tetsutetsu said patting his chest.

Shuzenji smacked their shins with deadly accuracy. “What are you younglings saying? The woman just woke up. Leave this for a later date.”

Raising her arm, Kendou returned their attention to the bed. “It’s okay... Granny.” Her voice sounded as scratchy as it was on her throat. “It was.... my call to make.”

“But-”

“No buts. She needs rest so get out!” Shuzenji pushed all three through the door and sighed when the opening closed again. “How are you feeling, dear?”  

Kendou stared at her arm. Every part of her body felt sluggish but she could move without thinking. This shouldn’t be possible. In the back of her mind, she still remembered the agony of being trapped inside her own body.

“Thank the stars something disconnected you or the damage would have been significantly worse. Your nervous system is still in shock,” Shuzenji said as she checked Kendou’s vitals. “Security robots and mines? Millennia might separate our civilizations, but we think alike. Such a shame.”

“Granny. I saw one of the Ancients.”

The old lady looked up from the tablet but said nothing, prompting her to continue.

“I wasn’t disconnected. My hands didn’t budge. I couldn’t do anything about the controls. Then she appeared.” Kendou’s breath dropped as she replayed that moment. “Like a ghost in space.”

“People hallucinate many things during a situation like this. Our radars caught no other heat signature than yours.” Shuzenji clasped her shoulder. “This was probably only a vision.”

Kendou nodded reluctantly.

While listening to the rest of the doctor’s report, her luck became apparent. Other than the lack of limb-coordination, she had minimal injuries. Two weeks of rehab and she’d return to her duties without a problem.

The reality of going through it turned out less simple. Her feet refused to step one after the other. Her fingers wouldn’t hold onto anything. However, Kendou had faced similar problems when she first applied for the space program. Truths which had shaped her entire life didn’t apply on zero gravity. This gave her hope and before long, Kendou stood inside the hangar again.

“How does it feel being back?” Awase asked from her left.

Kendou finished securing her long auburn ponytail inside the helmet. “I didn’t expect much and you know what? I wasn’t disappointed.”

He snorted. “For one, I’m glad you’re back. These past few weeks were hell.”

“Monoma can’t be that bad of a commander.”

“Just a shitload overzealous. Not gonna lie. It was a nice change of pace but it’s different with you, boss.”

“Yeah, I’m more likely to save your butt.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“Truer words have never been spoken!” Tetsutetsu said as he enveloped both into a tight hug. “Let’s go, Red Oni Team!”

“Please don’t call us odd names,” Kodai said as they boarded their suits.

Stepping outside, Kendou was pleased to find the same void and stars. The Satellite was in the same spot too; its presence reminding her of an old promise.

“I’m gonna find what you are...” Her nine-year-old self vowed, stargazing from their front porch.

Kendou knew she had only a slim chance of learning the Satellite’s true purpose in her lifetime. It’d be too much to ask for the universe to reveal the rest of its many secrets. But maybe everything was more connected than it seemed. So, if she continued down this path, would it be possible to meet her savior again?

Although the cosmos remained silent, some stars flickered a little stronger than before.

A/N: For those that have purchased the zine, you might have noticed the ending here is kinda different from what's in the zine. The truth is I overestimated my word count and ended up with two additional pages. It resulted in me changing the ending to be fair for the rest of my fellow colleagues. But I really liked my original ending so this is what you see here. You could say the zine ending is exclusive to those who bought it in a way XDD

[trifoliate-undergrowth]

It’s a Long Way Down to the Bottom of the River

If you’re reading the session episodes, I’d recommend reading 5 before this. While the episodes are just edited versions of our hijinks during actual game sessions and largely in the style of scripts, this is a prose short story I wrote about my own character because the idea screamed to be written. 

Warnings for, as per heckin’ usual these days, a suicidal character. And also a lot of murder. And some parental issues. 

The ground was steadily approaching, a faint shimmer below him as his night vision struggled to pick up something other than the walls speeding past. Taveau estimated he was about ten meters above when he switched on his jetpack, trailing a fiery blast down the face of the rock wall for a few fractions of a second before he switched it off, dropping down gently in darkness to the stone pavement of the courtyard. The kickback had slowed his descent so that he made almost no sound, and his night vision showed him two guards, staring blankly upwards towards where the trail of fire had appeared. The first one was still staring as Taveau’s vibroblade ripped into skin just below the tilted-back helmet. The second had time to hear the first choking on his blood, turn towards the sound and scream as Taveau crashed into him, knocking the half-raised blaster aside and silencing him with another flick of the wrist. He fell, and Taveau paused to check that both guards were properly dead. They were, and he could see the rest of the courtyard from where he was standing: it was empty, no further resistance between him and the simple metal door set into the opposite wall.

Somewhere above was the sky, so dark with clouds that it was hard to see where the walls ended and the sky began. The fortress had lights, but they had flickered out a few moments before he’d started his descent down the wall, thanks to interference that the Vaal’ik family would hopefully attribute to the storm. The fortress was built into a natural crevice in the rock, and so the walls of the courtyard were unevenly shaped. It was, in fact, just a wider area in a snaky crevice running through perhaps half a kilometer of stone before it reached open ground. The steep, narrow passageway was lined with armored droid lookouts. It was well-defended, assuming, of course, that an assault was coming from that direction. Somehow no one ever expected trouble to come from above.

Taveau reached for the control panel on the wall and brought the siege gate up with a grinding crunch. Now there was about half a meter of solid alloy between him and the droid lookouts: another precaution which would have been useful, had an assault been coming from that direction. “Courtyard is clear,” he said, and heard a scratchy confirmation over comms.

Immediately after he’d said it he heard something thump down behind him. The sound was followed, so quickly that he didn’t have time to turn, with the screech of a blaster rifle discharging into his back at point-blank range. He spun, striking at his assailant’s arms, and the rifle clattered to the ground: they had an amateur’s grip. They snatched for something at their belt and he saw them, him, briefly, close enough to touch: a young male human, about his own age; with a patterned poncho draped from his upper arms, the cowl hiding his face almost to the eyes, which were wide and sparkling in the night.

The bolt from Taveau’s blaster pistol caught him under the chin and exited at the top of his skull, spattering brain matter against the alloy of the seige gate. He dropped silently against Taveau’s boots, and Taveau stepped away from the limp weight, moving his torso carefully. He’d bruised his ribs, and it felt like he might have a few burns from the bolt spattering below the chestplate, but he’d be alright. Looking up, he saw something he hadn’t seen before: narrow handholds cut into the rock, leading up to a natural indentation of some sort. Of course, the kid had been hiding up there. Stupid. He’d made exactly the same mistake the guards had made.

“Taveau. We heard blasters. Report.”

“Ah, kriff—I was wrong, courtyard wasn’t clear. It is now. Some kid was hiding up in a cave in the rock and jumped down on me.”

“You’re certain it’s clear now?”

“Unless there are more of them up there.”

“Check it. We’re heading down now.”

“Copy that.”

He started up the wall, hearing first one, then two, three, four jetpacks firing somewhere to his left.

He paused, getting his balance, just below the level of the opening in the rock, then came up over the edge blaster first. He was facing a smooth wall, close enough to touch if he leaned forwards. There was nothing else in the space but a half-empty bottle of some kind of fizzy and a dusty blanket.

“This is Taveau, we’re clear in front.”

“Copy. Stay outside and guard the door.”

“Copy.”

By leaning forward a little, he could see the whole courtyard. He watched the rest of his team blow the hinges off the door and charge inside, disappearing into a dark passageway. The lights still hadn’t come back on. They must have done a good job.

Taveau settled into a comfortable crouch, relaxed but ready to move if necessary. The hollow made an excellent lookout point.

He wondered what the kid had been doing up here. Did he not trust the guards to stay awake on their own? Or was he friends with them? Did he just enjoy sitting up here? Maybe some combination. A couple minutes passed. Taveau wondered what flavor the half-finished fizzy was. He shouldn’t risk taking his helmet off in the middle of enemy territory, but there wasn’t much going on.

He failed to listen to his wiser voice, and removed his helmet with a quiet hiss of decompressing air. He looked up into darkness, now unbroken by the green shimmer of night vision; the only sound a tired whisper of wind over rock and the now-distant comms chatter from his helmet. A breath of the cool night breeze ran its fingers through his hair and brushed his cheeks. He breathed it in, tasting the bitter-salt smoke of the explosives in the air, and lifted the bottle to his lips.

It was a flavor he couldn’t identify—some kind of fruit. He liked it. He took another drink, and just then he heard the siege gate start to move.

It took him a few precious seconds to set the bottle down and jam his helmet back on. Night vision eclipsed the yellowish glare that had appeared in his peripheral vision, and he saw the shapes of four humans with a lantern, followed by the three droid lookouts from the path. They had opened the gate from the other side. Apparently they had an override. And a secret exit. But why had they come back here? Were they trying to launch a counterattack?

He updated the rest of the team in a low voice, without moving. The newcomers didn’t appear to have noticed him yet.

“Davi!”

It was the tall man in the front. It was difficult from this angle, but Taveau thought he could identify him as Vaal’ik senior. Exactly the man they’d come to kill. He didn’t seem to be concerned with caution, at any rate.

There was a sudden blast from the dark entryway of the fortress. Taveau heard it twice, crackling over comms and thudding through the air around him, followed by swearing from his teammates. It sounded like they’d been ambushed by another party of droids. Vaal’ik had a small army, it would seem.

“Davi!” the man shouted again, and darted forward into the courtyard, dropping to his knees beside the dead kid. One of the humans shouted for him to come back, and he ignored them, gently lifting the limp body into his lap. “Davi, boy, it’s OK, I’m right here.”

Taveau felt strangely sickened. Was the man insane? Could he not see that the kid was missing the back of his skull?

“Sir!” One of the humans shouted, noticing Taveau. Instantly six blasters were aimed up at him. Taveau silently adjusted his position so they could more clearly see his own blaster, pointed at the man directly below him. Vaal’ik was still focused on the kid and appeared to be feeling for a pulse. Then, slowly, he realized the tense silence of his allies, and looked up at Taveau.

“You.” he said, quietly.

Taveau didn’t see any reason to respond.

The man put the body down—Taveau was surprised at the relief he felt—and stood, never taking his eyes off Taveau.

“Get down here.”

“Why?” said Taveau, and the man froze for a moment, face changed at the sound of his voice. He got over it quickly, whatever it was that had bothered him.

Perhaps he’d had exactly this discussion with the kid not long before.

“Come down here and fight me.”

“With what?”

He drew and activated a force pike, the tip sparking against the night, emitting a low hum of sonic power.

“You know I have a gun, right?” said Taveau with some humor. He’d probably die as soon as he shot Vaal’ik, but Vaal’ik should know he wasn’t afraid. He’d known that he might die tonight when he left. If not tonight, maybe tomorrow.

“Are you that much of a coward?” prodded Vaal’ik.

Taveau shrugged the shoulder of his off hand, careful not to let it affect his aim.

“Yeah, probably.” He didn’t bother pointing out that, if he did shoot Vaal’ik, one against six was hardly fair stakes either.

“Sir?” said one of Vaal’ik’s allies, and he gestured impatiently at them.

“Stand down. Let me fight him.”

“Sir, this is madness, we need to get out of here.”

“I said stand down. You.” he pointed the force pike at Taveau. “Fight me.”

Taveau sighed, holstered his blaster and drew his vibroblades.

“Step back.”

He could never decide, later, why he came down. Maybe it was just instinct, telling him that he’d be less of a target on the ground, especially if he could get Vaal’ik between him and the others. Maybe it was a sick sense of pity, or curiosity.

He dropped lightly to the stone pavement of the courtyard and dodged an overhead swipe from the force pike. It parted the air with an audible whirr. A couple solid hits from it would break through even this armor. The man was panting, wide-eyed, teeth bared like a rabid animal, but he fought with an intense focus. Taveau stayed on the defense, waiting for him to overextend, but even in his rage Vaal’ik was smarter than that.

Whatever emotion was sustaining him, Taveau didn’t have it; finally he misinterpreted, tried to dodge in the wrong direction and then to correct and, failing to do either in time, caught the blow directly across his thigh plate, and he heard something snap. But the impact had slowed Vaal’ik for a moment; he seemed almost surprised the hit had landed, and Taveau took the opportunity to close the distance between them while Vaal’ik was struggling to control the larger weapon. Vaal’ik dodged, but not quickly enough to completely escape a slash from Taveau’s vibroblade which opened the side of his throat. Blood spattered quickly onto his robes, but it wasn’t enough to stop him moving, and Taveau had to block another strike from the force pike with his arm. Again that snapping sound, and his arm went numb, but he grabbed Vaalik’s wrist with his other hand and spun so that he was holding Vaal’ik’s weapon arm in front of him, punching his elbow into Vaal’ik’s stomach. Blood spattered from over his shoulder. He lashed out again with his numbed arm and opened a wound on Vaal’ik’s arm; after another cut the force pike dropped from his hand and Taveau spun again, pulling Vaal’ik between him and his six allies, and held him in place with an arm around his waist. Two of the humans shot at him, but the others hesitated. Of the two shots fired, one hit just above the visor on his helmet and one went wide.

Then there was silence.

Taveau realized that he was breathing, and his heart was racing. He counted the bodies with his still-hot blaster. One of the droids was still sparking and fizzling angrily. He steadied his hand and put it down for good with a direct shot to the eye. Then he released Vaal’ik.

The man fell to his hands and knees, leaving a hot trail of blood down the front of Taveau’s chestplate. He still wasn’t quite dead. Taveau aimed for his head. He was moving, but not for the force pike, or any of the weapons scattered around. He was moving towards the body of the kid in the poncho, who was almost within reach.

“Why’d you do it?” asked Taveau suddenly, startling himself a little. He didn’t expect an answer. But it was a good question. Their plan had obviously worked; Taveau’s teammates were still trapped inside. The man and his allies could have been off the planet by now. Perhaps some of them were, he was pretty sure there had been more family than this. But these ones had come back.

Vaal’ik dragged himself towards the body, visibly fighting to stay conscious, and gripped the boy’s sleeve with slick fingers. A tremor shook his body. He kept himself propped up on his arms long enough for two breaths to lift his back, then all at once he collapsed, landing with his head pillowed on the boy’s stomach. A silent spring of blood began to spread on the ground beneath him.

Taveau kept the blaster raised for a few moments, then slowly lowered it. He walked closer—stopping, as the muscles seized in his leg, to examine his wounds; the plates of his armor had warped and the gauntlet had cracked, but he wasn’t bleeding, though he didn’t think he’d be able to walk without pain for a while. Carefully he limped closer. Yes, they were both dead. Why did it make him feel so strange? And why did he keep looking at them?

He remembered a river from the mountains, bitingly cold and foaming with the released energy of long-silent snow. He remembered a force too great to fight pushing him down into that whiteness, until there was no sense of light or direction, only the cold rush of the river, and he felt that he’d grown as cold and blinded as it was. Then somehow he woke to his father slapping him viciously in the face. He struggled up, choked, and twisted to vomit up cold water. Slowly the roar of the river faded from his body and he could hear other sounds. Birdsong. His own gasping breaths. “—can’t believe you DI’KUT I SAID be careful around the river you could have been KILLED or’dinii are you BRAIN DEAD do you HAVE two brain cells to rub together, laandur, ni'duraa—” his father trailed off into increasingly colorful swears as Taveau lay on his stomach shivering and trying to force up the last traces of water from his burning lungs. His cheek stung. His father seized him by the back of his light training breastplate, hauled him up to his knees and shook him. “That was stupid. I expect you to do better in the future.”

“..Uh...hhhuh..”

“Excuse me, did you say something?”

“Yes sir.”

His father slapped him across the shoulders, stood, and disappeared into the trees. Taveau, who’d been preoccupied until now, barely saw him at all; turning to look after him he saw him glittering in the light as if he’d been dipped in jewels, just before he passed into the shadows.

“On your feet, ad.”

He was gone, and Taveau let himself sag.

He’d called him ad. Son. Of course, he’d called him a lot of other things too, so he didn’t put much store by it. Still, it wasn’t a term he heard often, and it stuck in his mind. It was unusual. It didn’t fit. Neither did the sparkle he’d seen. His father had been wet, and there was a trail of water across the rocks leading from Taveau’s boots to the edge of the river, and Taveau knew that he hadn’t pulled himself out. But he was surpised his father would step in after he’d disgraced himself with such a foolish mistake. And yet, he had been there. Taveau hadn’t even known that he was watching him. It made him uncomfortable.

The roar of the river continued, and he forced himself up just to get away from it. His legs trembled under him. He dragged himself back to the camoflaged lean-to he’d constructed and collapsed there, too tired to hunt. Foraging was one of the things he could let slide in survival training: his father would check the construction of his shelter, the condition of his armor and weapons; food wasn’t as much of an issue, as long as he remained strong enough to move around in his armor.

He saw the texture of the branches in front of him moving slowly, as if he was watching them through waves. He stared at them for what felt like a long time until suddenly taken by sleep.

It wasn’t entirely by accident that he’d fallen into the river, though it hadn’t been intentional either. Sometimes he walked on the very edge of a precipice for reasons he couldn’t name to himself. Maybe he hoped the proximity to death would spark a zest for life in him. Maybe he hoped he would fall. That day, a rock had been loose and he had. It had been an accident that he fell. It was not an accident that he was standing on the edge. It was not an accident that, a few years later, he walked in front of an active blaster cannon rather than behind, an incident that solidified his reputation in Death Watch as a complete dumbshit. And yet he’d lived, and still he’d lived, and tonight he was inexplicably the only one standing in the courtyard, and he thought maybe the strange feeling was a realization that he was closer than he’d ever been to something he couldn’t understand. Something that showed itself in rage and grief and sometimes inexplicable actions.

His head hurt. He remembered that he’d been shot and took off his helmet. There was a deep charred dent in the brow, and a crack in the supposedly unbreakable material of the visor. He carefully reached up and brushed his fingers across his forehead. Nothing from the blast, not even a bruise. Unlike his other injuries. What was the setting on that force pike? The feeling was returning to his left hand, but only slowly. He flexed the arm under the shattered gauntlet and wiggled his fingers. Nothing seemed broken.

The blood was still pooling under the man, but slowly. A lot of it had been soaked up in the folds of the boy’s poncho. Taveau suddenly wanted to kneel down and touch them, and he wasn’t sure why. Instead he turned and walked further into the courtyard. The others met him at the door. One of them swatted at him with a hacked-off droid arm. He batted it away irritably.

“You’re still alive.”

“So are you! What happened out here?”

Taveau lifted his helmet, displaying the blast mark, then gestured with it behind him at the bodies. One of his teammates whooped, streaking off to examine the spoils.

“Taveau, seven! I don’t believe this. How’d you do it?”

“The old man let me use him as a shield.”

He laughed, “Classic.”

Taveau didn’t remember the trip back. His next memory was of sitting in the return ship, running a finger up and down the crack in his gauntlet, staring at nothing.

.

.

A/N: Title is a reference to a song that I found because @silverskye13 recced it, which is Bottom of the River by Delta Rae. 

Taveau and Davi are similar names, especially if you consider that I got “Taveau” by changing one letter of the name Daveau, which means “of David”, and Davi is yet another form of the name David. 

So in the Flannery O’Connor seminar I took last semester, we’d often discuss how, in her stories, characters would be presented with a “moment of grace” which they could either accept or reject.  Taveau rejected this one, but it wasn’t a full rejection. And as long as you’re alive you get more chances. 

I’m not sure how well I conveyed all that’s going on here, so I’d appreciate feedback. At the time of this story, Taveau’s almost convinced himself that he’s alright with this, because he doesn’t think he has any other choice. Almost, but not quite. But he’s definitely not at the stage of actual rebellion yet. No, that comes later. It develops slowly. ....it is also helped by the fact that he got frickin betrayed n left to die by his asshole murder bros, like, that was definitely the last straw, but he was having doubts before that. 

ANYWAYS. feedback would be appreciated. also do you think this is worth posting on ao3 I don’t think anyone is likely to read it but it’s ~technically~ fanfiction

[inthenameofnova]

NOVA’s Gentle Care || Jihl & Johnny

Johnny: The sudden light made his headache even worse. He winced and tried to turn away from it, but a moment later that pain was the least of his worries. The bumbling woman from earlier…all an act. You really are that stupid, Johnny. Now what are you going to do? He should have texted Sue or Peter the second NOVA had pulled him aside. Should have known it wasn’t going to be as simple as it looked.

Johnny didn’t bother with the catchphrase. He focused all his energy on igniting his body, but he’d already waited too long. The water came in too and too cold for him to evaporate. As soon as the first hint of flame danced over him, it was put out.

“You’re out of your mind! Let me out of here!” He pulled again on the restraints as the water edged rapidly toward his chin. After one last breath, he was completely beneath the surface, wide-eyed with panic.

Jihl: Jihl studied Johnny from behind the class with the curiosity of a child looking upon an unpleasant bug they knew couldn't hurt them, a mixture of fasciation and disgust. A far cry from the woman he's been bumping into tables and giggling earlier, it was all in appearance through and through. Now she had what she wanted and could observe the fruits of her labour, they might even learn something about Storm's particular brand of mutation.

Her gaze narrowed slightly as she watched his chest, face and legs begin to go aflame, though it seemed the water at thigh level was enough to stop that in its tracks, interesting total submersion wasn't required to put him out.

She smiled blandly, "I'm quite sane, Mr. Storm, deep breath now, this is important if you want to live." Jihl watched the water cover his mouth, nose, eyes and hair before stepping closer again, observing the other's palpable panic as she starter a timer on her watch.

Johnny: Had he just screwed up his one chance to get out of there? He’d been too disoriented from whatever she’d she’d hit him with, hadn’t been able to concentrate enough to keep the flame going or stop the water. It was such a dumb way to die.

He tried again, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. His lungs already burned. For a brief moment, the water immediately touching him seemed to boil.

Jihl: She had an ulterior motive to all this of course, but that was for her alone to know, of course she made a few notes as the other struggled, her 'research' as far as it went, but a part of her was simply basking in watching the abomination squirm.

Jihl made a small noise of interest as the water began to whiten and bubble around him, could be boil it? "Note, subject seems able to increase body temperature even while submerged at point of thirty seconds."

Johnny: That was it. That was his last ditch effort and he’d failed. He pulled frantically to try to free himself one last time before his mouth finally opened and he felt the water rush in. Those few seconds felt like an eternity, like they’d never be done. The irony of the situation was killing him.

Jihl: Jihl stepped closer, right up next to the tank to watch Johnny's final moments, to see him give in, to know that she was doing this, she held his life to do with as she willed. She observed his mouth open, bubbles float out and him slump forwards, she tapped against the glass, nothing.

She smirked.

The water drained out as quickly as it entered and the plexiglass slid down to allow her access; Jihl raised a fist and socked Johnny in the gut, aiming to expel the water he'd swallowed. She repeated the process until he began coughing up water before stepping back, the glass sliding up again, "Ready for round two, Mr. Storm?" she asked, "I have to say, two minutes is rather disappointing for a man in your physical condition."

Johnny: The darkness was interrupted by coughing and a gasp for air so frantic, he had never heard the noise he made when he did it. Every part of his body felt rigid, like he’d tensed all his muscles at once. Maybe that’s exactly what happened. Precious seconds ticked by as he put everything together, tried to remember where he was, what was happening.

As the glass started to slide up he pushed through the fog in his head. Bright orange and red flame engulfed his body immediately. “Screw you, lady!” Hotter. Hotter. Hotter. He focused on it, trying to force himself to get there faster than he normally would. He’d be able to melt the container, free his arms and legs...

Jihl: That was more like it, he'd been too placid the first time, now she'd get a chance to see just how far his abilities could take him, and just how well they could contained. She swiftly tapped the control panel and once again freezing water gushed into the bottom of the tank.

"I think not, Mr. Storm." she told him idly, taking a step back to watch the man afire and see if he'd cope this time. Even if he managed to free himself, she had measures in place, plans upon plans.

Johnny: For a few moments, the water couldn’t even touch him. It evaporated as it met the flame, filling the tank with steam. Johnny ignored it, kept his eyes closed, and soon he felt the metal around his wrists begin to soften and warp.

As the freezing water reached his knees, the flames on his lower body began to die down, but not quite out. As Johnny yanked one hand free, sending molten metal down into the water, the surface of it bubbled to a boil.

Jihl: Her gaze narrowed slightly and, against direct thought, she took a step back, realised her action and forced herself to step forward again, heel clicking against the floor. "Subject able to melt one wrist cuffs in minimal time." Considering that metal was made to withstand tremendous heat this worth note.

Jihl reminded herself not to worry, even if he got his other arm free (as seemed likely) his ankles were still locked in place and already below the water.

Johnny: Johnny wrenched his other arm free and pressed both of his hands against the glass as the water rose up to his waist. Steam rolled off the surface of it, but it was pumping in more quickly than it could evaporate. All he needed was a little more time...

The glass wouldn’t budge. He was gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Everything had a melting point.

Jihl: Jihl crossed her arms, as suspected both arms were free but that glass had been designed to hold all manner of powered beings, withstand blows, cold, and heat, he wouldn't make it free, but it was entertaining watching him try.

She stepped closer again, confidence returned and stared intently at his flame covered arms, "You're doing better than before Mr. Storm, nice to see there's some fight in that empty head of yours."

Johnny: As the water rushed in around him and eventually managed to cover his arms, he knew it was over. Again. Would she let him die that time? He kept his face aflame until that, too, was submerged. The natural reaction was panic as he took that last breath, just like before. He banged his fists against the inside of the glass until the world went black again.

Jihl: Jihl smirked with satisfaction as the water rose and his flame was snuffed out, his beating on the glass going from a worry to ineffectual. It was delightful really, pushing him to breaking over and over. Again, as he slumped forwards with bubbled floating from his lack mouth the water drained and the glass slide down, Johnny's body falling forwards until she held a hand against his chest.

"Two thirty, a little better." Now, time for a change. With vicious pleasure she pounded against his abs until the water began to regurgitate before pushing him back into the cell as the glass rose once more.

"Mr Storm, your fire seems able to manage in water for a few moments, I'm curious to see how it works in other de-oxygenated environments. You've been to space, you understand the term vacuum, yes?"

Johnny: Just like the second time, Johnny started to fight immediately. He had to figure out how to get through the glass. He knew he could do it; he just had to push, just had to...

His eyes snapped back to Jihl as soon as the flames he engulfed him. With a flick of a switch he felt the oxygen being sucked out of the chamber. There was no easier way to kill a fire than to smother it. His hands were still free, but what good were they? 

“Why are you doing this?!”

Jihl: Still so much fight, this could take some time. Not that she minded one bit, it was more fun this way. And in these conditions he couldn’t stop her, even if he thought he had a chance.

She smirked as the machine begin to work, sucking out just enough oxygen to make it very apparent what she’d do. “For the safety of the city, Mr. Storm, everything I do is for them.” She told him evenly, turning up the dial to remove even more air.

Johnny: “I haven’t hurt the city!” And neither did any of the other people they were going after. He was wasting oxygen arguing with her, but what was he supposed to do? Just stand there? Let it happen? “I helped people, dammit!” The vacuum was worse. There was no release, no letting out the last breath and just giving up. It was just the burning in his chest and feeling his whole body desperate to breathe. The flames died quickly.

Jihl: "No?" she asked, "In all your little escapades there's never been some flame go awry? A building toppled?" Jihl rose an eyebrow, "It was not your place to help people, Mr. Storm, lacking training you arguably did more damage than good."

She kept him trapped there, seconds between his next breath and death, balanced in agony. "When you tell me, Mr. Storm, I'll make this stop, you can fade away soundly, if you give in."

Johnny: If she’d wanted actual answers, she would have let him talk. The pressure in his head was tremendous, like someone had their hands against his temples and were pushing as hard as they could. “Screw you. We were heroes,” he finally spat.

Jihl: "To some." she agreed with a small nod, "But to the most, you were just another monster." Jihl said, "And when confronted with a monster what can a person do but ensure it can't hurt anyone ever again." She stared at him as she cranked the control panel to its max, pulling all air from the chamber.

Johnny: She didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't know anything. Part of him wanted it to be over just so he never had to look at her or anyone like her ever again. But he still had to get out of there. People needed to know that NOVA was just as psycho as they all assumed. No, they were worse. The thoughts fled as the last of the oxygen was gone, and after just a few seconds more of struggle he was unconscious again.

Jihl: Hmm, seemed he still had plenty of fight left within him, though she supposed it was to be expected dealing with someone of his ilk. Stubborn fools who in their determination for gratification only ended up hurting people beneath their notice. Jihl watched Johnny suffocate without a blink, waiting till he'd collapsed forward again before turning the dial back up to allow air in.

At the same time she pushed a few more buttons and in again came the water, she halted it at his knees, but this wouldn't end for Johnny, between waking and sleep he'd know he was never safe.

Johnny: How many times was she going to do it? Johnny already didn’t know how long he’d been there. Each time he woke up, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he blacked out. There were no windows, no clocks, no way to know if he’d been there a few hours or if it had already been days. If it had been days...Sue and Peter were looking for him, right?

They were looking for him. 

Under normal circumstances, Johnny could hold flame for many, many hours at a time and still have energy to burn. But that was under peak conditions. That was when he didn’t already feel turned kind of inside out. The longer it went on, the harder it was to get the burn. He eventually had to stop pretending like he could get through the glass, because if he hadn’t been able to do it in the beginning...he didn’t have enough left to do it after she’d put him under and under and under.

Jihl: Well it had taken some time, three days to be precise, so more than she'd originally expected, but Mr. Storm finally appeared rather overcome by his treatments. Once things progressed a little more they'd be ready for stage two and the results that should prove invaluable to NOVA's goals. Of course, she needed to be absolutely sure before that.

"Well Mr. Storm, you're looking rather fatigued. I can't imagine this has been easy for you but NOVA does appreciate your sacrifice." she told him pleasantly, hitting a few buttons on the control panel so the now familiar water gushed in again, though this time she planned to have it stop at his chin, "We're almost finished with your examination, so I'm afraid your chances for escape are running slim."

If he had any last vestiges of power she'd make him use them up now. He needed to be completely drained, both physically and mentally, of that she was certain.

Johnny: He’d always had the assumption that he’d die young, but in his head it usually involved something like a giant planet-eating jerk with an ugly helmet or ‘taking one for the team’ so that the people who actually made a difference could go on doing it. But there was no enemy and no team and he was going to die for nothing and nobody but a bunch of disgusting assholes. It would’ve bothered him more if he wasn’t already wishing she’d just do it and get it over with. 

“You think you’re actually going to win? People like you never win.” 

He was done giving her what she wanted. If he couldn’t get out, he could at least stop complying. As the water rose, he didn’t even bother holding his breath.

Jihl: "Yes, I do." she said with the absolute certainty of a true zealot, "Throughout history battles have ended in unexpected ways, David and Goliath, The Siege of Malta, this will be yet one more case." she smiled and stepped closer, "I'm afraid this will mark the end of our time together, Mr. Storm, it truly has been a pleasure, NOVA have learnt a great deal. Truly, words can't express our gratitude."

She stepped up against the glass and looked at him for a few moments, waiting to see any sign of heat in the water, any bubbles... Nothing. No more fighting spirit. "Pleasant darkness, Mr. Storm." she said, inclining her head before tapping on the control pad to raise the water one last time.

Johnny: Up until that very last second, he still thought the door would burst open, that he’d see Sue or Peter. It didn’t happen. By the time the water actually reached his mouth, there were tears standing in his eyes. What was a few more drops, right? He closed them a second later. So stupid. So stupid to have ended up there. So stupid to die for nothing.

Jihl: Her lips curled into a cruel grin as she saw tears on his cheeks, perfect, so broken compared to the empowered fighter who'd melted his arm restraints at their first few hurdles. Now all that she had left to do was wait. As the water rose over Johnny's head Jihl paged one of her scientists to come to the room, then turned back to finish watching the final show.

Johnny: He didn’t try to save himself. There was nothing to save himself with. He’d done everything he was capable of doing. If she expected banging on the glass, she wouldn’t get it. Johnny just let it happen, both because there was no choice and the only relief he was going to get was for it to finally be over.

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

The sun woke him up. Johnny opened his eyes and immediately had to close them again. He’d never had a worse headache in his life, and the rest of him felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Had he been hit by a truck? He shielded his face with one hand and finally tried again. When he opened his eyes that second time, he saw grass and finally realized he was laying on the ground. Somewhere not far away, there was the sound of cars driving. After feeling around in his pocket for his phone, he found an absurd number of missed calls and messages, most of which said some variation of, “Where the hell are you?!” He coughed as he scrolled through them, and the pain in his chest almost made him double over. One more glance at the phone and he was sure he was losing his mind. The last thing he remembered was heading into town for Zachary Zatara’s memorial service, but if the date on the screen was right...that was three days ago.

[bea-aw]

Fair is Foul prt. 2 (Armitage Hux)

Hux pushed himself off his desk and walked angrily out his office, toward the Supreme Leader’s chamber. He slammed the button to open Kylo’s door and stormed towards the throne.

“Supreme Leader, why am I unable to acquire a ship?”

Kylo looked at him blankly.

“I thought you’d run from your embarrassment, like a coward. Turns out I was right.”

Hux saw red.

Him, a coward? How dare he? If he were a coward would he have taken responsibility for the loss of the droid back on Jakku? Would he have argued with Ren in the past, knowing he could kill him in an instant? Would he be standing there, angrily speaking to his leader?

“There’s a diplomatic meeting tomorrow that I am attending, in your place, might I add, and I require a ship to get there!”

Kylo looked as if he’d never seen something so repulsive in his life.

Hux gave him an equally loathing glare.

“I demand some respect, General,” Ren replied.

Hux could hear the anger boiling below the surface but he didn’t care. He would not let his name go down in history as the lapdog of such an imbecile.

“Ren, I require a ship,“ he stated staring the younger man down.

Kylo stared back, trying to assert his dominance, but the look in Hux’s eye was intimidating and intense.

Kylo turned away with a frustrated growl.

“Very well. I will revoke your restriction,” Kylo said begrudgingly.

A satisfied smirk appeared on Hux’s face as he bowed curtly and left the room quietly. He would’ve loved to make some remark at Ren’s expense, however he controlled himself. Ren will feel a fool soon, he thought as he walked to his chambers to prepare for his journey.

• • •

Armitage stood from his desk and picked up his fully packed suitcase from beside it. He had just managed to get a ship and he intended to leave as quickly as possible.

It was small, yes, but it was fast. He’d used the excuse that he was late for the meeting to get one with such speed.

Hux always managed to get want he wanted eventually. Success, power, and in this instance, a ship.

Case in hand, he hurried down the corridors toward the hanger sending a frigid glare at anyone who so much as glanced at him. He reached the ship in no time.

The door slid open for him, hissing, and with a smile, he stepped aboard, dismissing the stormtrooper watching it.

The whole vessel was a bit smaller than the bridge in the Millennium Falcon. The ship was made for a single pilot and every button and dial was in reach from the front seat. Behind that were two more chairs and some standing room. There was a set of wings on the outside but that was it. Everything was a dark grey or black and the blinking lights were the only pop of colour in the whole space.

Armitage sat down in the pilot’s seat, placing his case down behind him. He immediately flicked the switches to shut and air-lock the door. He tapped a button and began to warm up the engine. His foot tapped impatiently as he waited.

It took little longer than a minute for all systems to be fully operational.

A few more button presses later and the ship was flying out of the hanger.

Armitage waited until he was out of range of the Star Destroyer’s trackers before he opened up the flap beneath the control panel. Inside were numerous wires and pipes. They coiled up and around the interior, a complete mess to someone who didn’t know what they were doing, but Armitage wasn’t concerned with any of this.

He parted the wires and leaned further down to see the back of the box.

There was a small disk about the size of a walnut with a small red light shining out of it. This was the tracking device.

Hux had overseen the creation and installation of these. If he didn’t get rid of this, even after he made the jump to hyperspace, the First Order would know he hadn’t gone to the meeting, and would be able to find him.

He reached out and put the tip of his index finger over the light. He tapped out the code to demagnetise the device. One-one-two-five-three. The disk fell into his hand. He walked to the ejection port, smiling malevolently at the tiny piece of technology in his palm. He opened the hatch and dropped the device inside.

The hatch shut and his eye lit up as the light switched from red to green.

Hux let out a hum of contentment as he sat down again. He input the coordinates, flicked a few switches and pushed a button, before drawing back the lever beside him and jumping to hyperspace.

• • •

Poe Dameron ran out of the control room. He had heard a loud crack and went outside to investigate. His eyes widened as he saw a First Order ship above the base and immediately he ran back inside.

“Poe!” called Commander Kaydel Connix.

He ran over to her.

“There’s a First Order ship that wants to communicate. Do we accept it?”

Poe pressed the heel of his palm into his forehead, his eyes shut as he thought of how to respond. He sighed before straightening up.

“Put them on,” he said, gesturing at the control panel.

Connix handed him a radio and pushed the button.

“I would like to speak to General Poe Dameron,” the person said.

Poe perked up at the sound of the voice.

Fear flicked onto his features, before, being replaced by his usual cocky smile, however now it was evidently somewhat forced.

“Grand Marshal Hugs. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

They could hear Hux hum in amusement.

He knew they were scared, as he had found their base’s location. He’d known for a while, but chose to withhold it from Ren, as he was certain they’d immediately launch an impulsive attack, no planning whatsoever.

“I’d like to talk to you. My ship doesn’t have any weapons on it and I’ll give you my blaster and dagger to reassure you further. I’m here to help your cause,” he explained.

Poe exchanged a skeptical look with Connix.

“Do I have permission to land?” Hux continued.

“Permission granted,” Poe said, looking at the shocked faces of the commanders around him. He ignored them and stood up, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Okay!” Poe yelled, catching the attention of the room.

“I want everyone ready for an evacuation on my order and a squad with blasters around that ship, now!”

The room snapped to life. People were running about, preparing for a worst case scenario. Technology was being turned off, resources were being gathered, and ships were being readied, all the while, the best of the Resistance’s fighters were following Poe out of the building, blasters held at their sides.

They spotted the ship coming down about fifty meters away.

Poe broke into a run, the fighters following him in.

As the ship touched the ground, Poe made an upward swirling gesture, and the troops circled around the door.

They watched cautiously as it slid open. Their blasters were trained on the doorway, waiting for the man to come out.

Armitage soon walked out, hands raised beside his head, a smirk upon his face.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, General Dameron,” Hux spoke.

“No problem, Grand Marshal.”

Hux’s dark smile widened.

It felt good to have his proper title used. Snoke refused to promote him, Ren promoted him but still called him ‘General’. Here, he received the respect he had so ardently pursued.

Hux slowly lowered his right hand to his waist beneath his greatcoat.

Poe tensed and the Resistance fighters held their blasters more purposefully.

He slowly pulled his blaster out of its holster and held the handle out towards Poe.

Poe nodded his head towards it and the woman beside him stepped forwards and took it from Hux.

He moved his left hand to his right sleeve and slowly withdrew his dagger. He held it out by the blade and the same woman took it.

Once the weapon left his hand, the group seemed to release its tension and Poe turned and started off.

Hux followed him, the troops making a perimeter around them.

Poe walked into a small tent.

The canvas it was made out of was a dusty green and inside was a table and two chairs.

Poe sat in the chair furthest away from the entrance and rested his arm on the table.

Hux sat opposite, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair.

“So, you’re here to help us?”

Hux nodded.

“Yes.”

Poe let out a laugh.

“And you expect us to believe you?”

Hux looked at him and shrugged.

“Well, if I were working against you, I’d have the entire First Order fleet here to attack you, and, as you can see, I came alone.”

Poe looked him in the eye, trying to find fault in his reasoning, perhaps a twitch that would give him away.

“Why?” Poe finally asked.

“I’m tired of being mistreated and underestimated. This is payback, plain and simple.”

Poe sighed.

He knew that Hux would make an excellent asset. His information on the First Order was invaluable. The Resistance might be able to take them down in a few weeks, perhaps sooner. This was big.

Poe smiled and stood up.

“Your help will be greatly useful and and valuable,” Poe said, watching as Hux straightened up and stood, facing him.

“I have one condition, however,” Hux said, his face falling into a serious expression.

“And that is?” Poe queried, growing anxious.

Hux looked him in the eye as he replied.

“I am the one to kill Kylo Ren.”

Poe stopped as the words sank in.

The room was deadly quiet as all eyes were on Poe, waiting for him answer.

A dark smile spread across his face and it was soon mirrored by Hux as the two shook hands.

“Of course,” Poe said, pulling the other man in for a hug.

They separated and Hux smiled.

It was malevolent and full of confidence.

“Long live the Resistance.”

[starcitizenprivateer]

One Good Deed: Part Two

Be sure to read part one of the story here .

Umar was quickly realizing just how difficult it was to focus on doing repairs when you have a gun aimed at your head. Of course, it should have been obvious from the start that being held hostage would be stressful, but it was one of those truths that doesn’t completely sink in until you experience it first hand. Sort of like how those ‘Slippery When Wet’ caution signs seemed redundant until you were skidding around in a rainstorm.

“Easy on the comms,” instructed Umar’s captor in a steady, even clip. “This is just a normal emergency repair, right?” The man might as well have been casually asking Umar to pass nuoc cham, for all the current situation seemed to be stressing him.

“Right.” Just your normal, everyday emergency repair where someone has hijacked your ship and is looming right behind your terminal in case they need to put a plasma bolt through your brain. Totally normal.

Umar took a deep breath and pushed all that aside. He needed to focus. His life wasn’t the only one hanging in the balance. With a practiced few presses on the console, Umar launched the repair drone Shake towards the source of the emergency beacon — a Terrapin, adrift and giving off a worryingly high IR signature.

With the drone en route, Umar hailed the Terrapin with his most professional, calming voice. “Dr. Hostan? This is Umar from In-A-Fix.”

The response came immediately. “Power plant’s experiencing a critical cascade and my coolers are about to give,” reported Dr. Hostan, breathing heavily. The temperature must have been unbearable inside the craft. Even wearing a protective suit and helmet, her hair was plastered with sweat to her head. “Geiger’s ticking fast and loud. I don’t think there’s much time.”

Umar appreciated the doc’s information efficiency. He didn’t blame people when they panicked in an emergency, but it sure did help when they kept their heads. It gave him an extra tool to work with rather than an extra problem to solve.

“Drone’s almost there. As soon as the full diagnostic scan is done, we’ll know what’s causing the cascade. In the meanwhile, I’m gonna have you do a full flush on your coolers. It won’t do much, but it’ll buy us some time.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

Umar began walking her through the process to circumvent the coolers’ safety protocols. The doc was an apt pupil and it wasn’t long before she had managed the tricky manual override. The maneuver was one that his boss, Jess, had taught him when he was first starting out. A fine example of the philosophy, “sometimes you got to break a ship even more if you want to fix it.” If they got the Terrapin up and running again, the coolers would have severely limited functionality compared to their normal operating parameters. But that was a problem for later. The first priority was not exploding.

“The temp’s dropping a bit,” said Dr. Hostan, clearly relieved. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“Naw, Doc. You did all the heavy lifting,” replied Umar. A pop-up on the terminal indicated a new data-packet had arrived. “Looks like the diag scan just came in, so I’m gonna have you drink a hydro-gel real quick while I go over the data. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

As Dr. Hostan turned to find a gel pack to feed into her suit, Umar silenced his audio and video while still listening in on the channel.

“That was a neat little trick,” said the shipjacker once the comm had been muted.

“Yeah,” said Umar, distracted as he pored over the report that Shake’s scanners had sent back.

“I mean you probably just saved her life and what? You’re getting your standard repair rate for this?”

“You mind not talking? I’m trying to figure out how —” Umar let the sentence hang there as he frantically cross-checked the numbers he had gotten from Shake.

“What is it?” Asked the shipjacker, leaning over the terminal to look.

“Grab that datapad,” said Umar, gesturing to where a clunky three-gen-old model was strapped to the wall. “Open up the DayBreak power plant manual. Should be right there in the folder.”

If Umar had been watching instead of directing Shake to do a deeper scan on the Terrapin’s axial power conduit, he would have seen the jacker hesitate. Using the datapad would mean having to holster his weapon. Keeping a wary eye on Umar to make sure this wasn’t a ploy, the man stowed his pistol and pulled the datapad free. After it booted, he found and opened the manual. “Okay, now what?”

“Here,” said Umar as he grabbed the pad. Scrolling, he found the section he was looking for and quickly read it. Then, cursing under his breath, he read it again.

“Enough,” said the jacker. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Umar tossed the datapad down onto the console. “You know anything about reactors?”

“Just enough not to touch one.”

“Then the short version is, thanks to the geniuses at Sakura Sun, the good doctor is pretty well and properly screwed. See …,” said Umar as he rotated the scans of the Terrapin displayed on the terminal. “The DayBreak was designed with these so-called performance improvements that will most likely make the power plant overload faster if I try to fix the problem. And not doing anything isn’t an option since the whole thing’s gonna blow in a few minutes anyway. So, yeah. Screwed.”

“Damn,” replied the jacker, leaning in to look closer. He pointed to the axial conduit. “And if you try to bypass it, these backups will just kick in.”

Umar raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised at his captor’s quick grasp of the issue. “Yeah, that’s right. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times the setup would be ideal, but damn if that one exception isn’t a doozy.”

The man straightened to his full height, resting a hand on his hip near the gun. “So, what are you going to do?”

“It’s what you’re gonna do,” said Umar, eyes flicking towards the jacker’s holster. “You’re the one threatening to shoot people.”

The response came with a heavy sigh, “You want to her to EVA over here before you start the repair.”

“It’s too dangerous to do it with her still on the ship, but with her onboard the Vulcan, we can pilot to the edge of the blast radius and still be able to control the drones. Maybe I can repair it in time. Maybe I won’t be fast enough and the thing will blow. But either way, the doc gets to live.”

“Fine. Do it.”

“You serious?” asked Umar, halfway through preparing the mental argument he thought he’d have to make.

“Yeah. Don’t know how much safer she’s going to be with me around, but it’s stupid to let her die now just ’cause I might get her killed later.” And leaving it at that, the jacker went to the pilot’s chair to bring the Vulcan’s hatch around so the doctor would have a straight-shot EVA.

Umar opened the comm. “Doc, you hear me?”

“Yes,” Dr. Hostan replied. “What did the scans say?”

“I’m gonna need you to EVA over to the Vulcan.”

“Am I losing the ship?”

“Can’t say for sure at this point, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Do I at least have enough time to pull my research drives?” asked the doctor. It was the most concerned Umar had seen her so far.

“Yeah, but fast, doc,” said Umar against his better judgement. “Take a minute to grab what you can, but you got to leave after that.”

Not even bothering to reply, the doctor rushed to grab the data she had gathered with the Terrapin’s sensors.

“Tell her to forget it,” said the jacker as he swung the Vulcan wildly away from the Terrapin.

Before Umar could ask what the hell was going on, the entire ship shook and the shields flared from a direct laser hit.

Umar frantically paged the doctor, “Plans changed, doc. Need you to stay put. We’ve got company.”

“How’d these bastards find me?” said the jacker as he evaded the next volley.

Umar checked the radar and saw there were two ships rapidly approaching their position. “Who are they?”

“A couple low-rent hitters.”

“And you thought you could lose them in my ship?”

“That was the plan.”

“Would have worked a lot better if you hadn’t left my drone behind.”

“You’re kidding me. The damn thing was tagged?”

“Six ways to Sunday … wait, where are you going?” demanded Umar when an out-of-range warning popped up for Shake.

“I’m getting us the hell out of here.” Another laser barrage just barely missed the prow of the Vulcan.

“No. We’re staying and fixing that ship.”

“I’m not dying for her.”

“Neither am I, so be sure to keep the ships off her and away from us.”

After a letting fly a string of curses, the jacker pulled the stick back and steered once again towards the Terrapin. “You’re damn lucky I’m a fantastic pilot.”

Umar keyed the comms. “Doc, since EVAing isn’t really an option any more, I’m starting the emergency repairs.”

The doctor took the news in stride. “Good luck.”

“Same to you, doc. If you got any messages to pass along, feel free to send them over.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you.” And with that, Dr. Hostan ended the comm.

Quickly, he opened the bay so that he could launch his last drone, Spear. It wasn’t really set up for this kind of delicate work, but Umar could use all the extra hands he could get. “Drone’s heading out. Can you give it cover?”

“On it,” replied the jacker, rolling the ship hard to one side. He positioned the Vulcan between the two attackers and the doctor. Switching his controls over, the jacker used the remote turrets to lay down a wide field of suppressive fire, forcing the ships to alter course. One of the would-be assassins saw this as an opportunity and attempted to sweep up on the underside, but the jacker was ready for them and let loose with the main guns, clipping the attacker’s port wing. The damage wasn’t enough to take them out of the fight, but it’d give the pilot something to think about.

Meanwhile, Umar had managed to cut open the access panel in the Terrapin’s thick armor and reach the inner workings. Controlling both drones in conjunction, he began the tricky process of halting the cascade and siphoning off the excess energy. Right on cue, the axial conduit kicked in, and as predicted, the power plant responded by increasing its load production. Now it was his turn to cuss up a storm.

Focusing his energy on the injured ship, the jacker switched to the offensive. This would have worked well if the two pilots had been a team, since harassing one would hopefully cause the other to react, but no such luck. The more distant attacker completely ignored the plight of the other and took advantage of the Vulcan’s push, scoring a direct hit. Smoke began to fill the ship’s main chamber. Fantastic pilot or not, the numbers were against them. “How’s it looking back there?”

“Almost done, one way or another.” Umar had about half as much time as he needed before the whole thing was going to blow, taking the Terrapin and the doc with it. What he needed was a way to quickly disrupt the power output all together, without triggering the explosion itself. He ran through the few options he had remaining, dismissing them as fast as he thought of them. Maybe if he had a full complement of drones he could have done something, but with Liam back with the jacker’s Reliant and his own stubbornness to blame for holding off on replacing Wil after the accident — his mind suddenly flashed on something. Wil.

A few years back, the drone had been lost along with a crew of four when what should have been a simple repair had gone catastrophically wrong. While patching the piping to one of the maneuvering thrusters, an unexpected static discharge had caused a feedback surge along the plasma conduits. In that case the surge had been deadly, but with the doc’s power plant already suffering a critical failure, there was a small chance that if he could trigger it and use one of his drones to act as an auxiliary breaker, he could interrupt the cascade before it went critical. Well, Spear, let’s see just how lucky you are.

The jacker had just launched the last of the Vulcan’s chaff, narrowly diverting a missile that detonated nearby. An inadvertent grin spread across his face. After the life he had led, it was a little hard to believe there was a good chance he was going to die doing something this stupidly heroic. Suddenly, there was a second explosion nearby. Something had blown on the hull of the Terrapin. He squinted his eyes in preparation for the blinding light that would follow the whole ship going boom, but nothing else happened.

“It worked! I can’t believe it worked!” Umar had lost his drone, but had saved the ship.

“Not to cut your celebration short, but I really could use a hand right about now.”

Umar’s attention was drawn back to the ongoing dogfight. When did the ship fill with so much smoke? “Pass the turrets to me.”

“You any good?” asked the jacker.

“Line me up a shot and find out.”

With a dedicated gun operator, the true combat capabilities of the Vulcan emerged. The jacker would chase a ship with the main guns getting them into position for Umar to let loose with cannons mounted on the remote turret. Working together, they manage to remove the wing on the ship that had been crippled earlier. Down a weapon, and barely able to maneuver, the ship fled. The remaining assassin, its advantage lost, made the sensible choice and followed.

Umar placed two cans of flavored sparkling water on the table. It had taken about an hour more of work before the doctor’s ship was ready to fly again and the effort had left him parched.

The jacker, sitting on the far side, cracked his open and drank deeply. When he finally came up for air, he smiled. “Guess I do like etrog flavor.”

“All right, spill it. Why do you got a price on your head?”

The smile left the jacker’s face. “Might be better if you don’t know.”

“Yeah, well, it seems a little late for that.”

The two sat in silence for a bit as Umar patiently drank his water.

Toying with the tab on the can, the jacker finally began, “I was working for the Dranton Family, smuggling off of Carteyna, when I got tagged by the Cano authorities. Wasn’t going to get out clean, so I dumped the cargo and ran. Turned out there was enough evidence in there to get most of the Drantons locked up for good. Guess that didn’t sit well because Luke Dranton put the hit out on me himself. Spent almost every last credit to his name making sure I get dead. That was about a month ago, been running ever since.”

“So, we should be expecting more company?”

“Greedy bastards will probably keep the news to themselves till they can come after us again, but yeah, they’ll be back.”

“Right.” Umar tilted back and finished the last of his drink. “We better get going then.”

“Thanks. If you drop me off at Pox, I can make my way from there.”

“I was actually thinking we could make a stop first. See, I came across a recent wreck a little bit before I grabbed you. Told Jess about it, but since In-A-Fix runs salvage there’s a good chance no one knows it’s there except me and her. We get there in time, should be able to make it so the registry shows you sadly passed away in a tragic accident.”

“Seriously? You’d do that for me?”

Umar shrugged, “What can I say, I like fixing stuff.”

THE END.

[snowdice]

Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 25]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

I have to go to bed soonish, but I’m doing a bit of editing... so...

Chapter 10

Patton spent most of the day setting up the closet into a makeshift bedroom. They moved the clothing that had been in that closet to a storage area in the potion’s lab, and Patton fussed over the arrangement of the pillows and blankets for far longer than necessary. Now he was putting up little decorations on the walls. He continuously asked for Virgil’s opinion, and Virgil always seemed startled by that fact. Logan observed them sitting halfway into the closet while fiddling with the star shaped lights Patton had wanted him to make.

 He figured Virgil would appreciate having the option of multiple light settings for the lights since they’d be above his head all night. Logan had only ever made them with on and off settings before, so he’d grabbed a few of his books; he currently had one in his lap. While he’d already figured out how to make preset settings and had programmed four: off, 100%, 50% and 25%, now he was working on the possibility of making a sliding dimmer. It was a bit more complex of a task, but it should be doable.

“There!” Patton said. “Nice and comfy!”

 Logan glanced up to see the way Virgil’s head tilted like he was trying to puzzle Patton out. Patton just smiled at him. “Go ahead and test it out!” he said. “We can switch things around if you want.”

Virgil obediently crawled into the closet and onto the makeshift bed Patton had made.

“Lay down and make sure it’s okay,” Patton coaxed.

Virgil did, laying down on the pile of pillows and blankets and laying his head on the pillow that had been reserved for that purpose.

“Is it okay?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked long and slow like he was very much contemplating going to sleep right then and there. Logan wondered if the potion was still affecting him or if he was just still exhausted from before. Perhaps it was both. “Yeah,” he said softly.

 Patton turned to look at Logan. “Are the lights done?” he asked.

“Not quite yet,” Logan said. “They will be ready before it is time to sleep.”

“Sounds good!” Patton said. “We should probably think about dinner soon.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment and waved his hand over the light he’d been working on. It lit up dim and then slowly increased in power as he moved his hand. Perfect! Now that he’d figured it out, it would not take long to get the rest of the lights working properly. Then he’d just have to install them.

He was just about to shut off the first light when there was a soft knock at the door.

 “Patton,” Patton’s mom’s voice called.

Logan shared a panicked glance with Patton. “Just a second,” Patton called back. “I told her you were sick,” he whispered just loud enough for Logan to hear him.

Logan jumped into action. He shoved the unlit lights under his desk along with the books and lobbed the lit one towards the closet. It missed and bounced on the ground, but Patton seemed to get the idea and picked it up, handing it to Virgil. “Sorry, sorry,” Patton said to the boy. “Just be quiet please.”

Logan hurried over to his bed and pulled the covers up over himself. Patton was there in the next second tossing a cloth over his forehead; hopefully she wouldn’t notice that it was not wet.

 Then, Patton was zipping to the door. He glanced back at Logan when he got there who nodded, laying back. He pulled open the door. “Hi Mama!” Patton said cheerfully.

“I brought you boys up some dinner,” she said.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Patton said sweetly; for someone who always preached the virtues of truthfulness, he was an awfully good fibber. “I could have come down and gotten us something. I was actually thinking about it right before you knocked.”

“It was no trouble,” Patton’s mom said. “I brought chicken and noodle soup for Logan since he wasn’t feeling well.”

 She looked over at Logan and smiled. “How are you feeling, sweetie?” she asked.

“I’m doing better. Ms. Heart, thank you,” Logan said.

She pushed a small cart past Patton loaded with food then and brought it to his bedside. “I brought chicken and noodle soup, some bread and butter, and a few apples from the garden for you two. Do you want anything else?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” Logan said.

“This is great, Mama,” Patton said. “Thank you.” He seemed to be subtly angling to hurry her out of the door, but she did not leave right away.

“What did you two do today?” she asked.

 “I mostly slept,” Logan lied. “And I read a bit.”

“I mostly just read too and helped Logan out.”

She continued to talk to them for a few more agonizing minutes before standing to leave. “Are you staying with Logan again tonight, sweetie?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Patton said. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll come check on you both in the morning.”

They both smiled and nodded as she left the room. Patton slumped against the bed when she was gone. “Hiding an assassin in your closet is stressful,” he said.

“Indeed,” Logan agreed, sitting up in bed.

 Patton got off the bed and went back over to the closet. “Sorry about that,” he said. Virgil was still sitting in the closet with the light in his lap. “But we have dinner! Want to come eat?”

He nodded immediately and crawled out of the closet. His bracelets vibrated slightly when he crossed the threshold and they shifted from the mode that let him move freely to the one that made him move slowly.

They split the dinner. Luckily, Patton’s mom always provided more than enough food so there was plenty for each of them. Virgil seemed content with all the food but seemed particularly fond of the apples. Between that and his reactions to the honey and pancakes, Logan wondered if he had a secret sweet tooth.

 After eating, Logan quickly finished up the other lights and worked on installing them as Patton went poking around in Logan’s other closet and drawers for something Virgil could wear for sleeping and possibly a change of clothing or two for future days.

“I’m going to go get some stuff from my room real quick,” Patton said once they’d found suitable clothing. He set the clothes in the closet next to the bed so Virgil could change in privacy later. “Will you two be okay?”

Logan hummed his assent, continuing to work on getting the lights in the exact right place.

 Once he was satisfied, he motioned Virgil over. “These are your lights,” he explained. “You can control them with this panel I set up.” He pointed to it and then flicked through the four preset light settings. “You can also customize how much brightness you wish to have by waving your hand over the panel slowly.” He demonstrated. “You should be able to reach it fairly easily with your right hand when you are laying down.”

Virgil nodded and then tilted his head up so he could look at the lights on the ceiling. Logan had set them to 25% intensity.

 “It’s the sky,” Virgil said awed.

Logan smiled, please that he’d noticed. “It isn’t completely accurate, but I did my best, at least with the brighter ones.” Virgil looked over at him and for the first time, Logan thought he didn’t see any fear in his eyes. “Is it adequate?”

“It’s great,” he breathed. After that brief moment of calm, he seemed to remember himself, growing wary once again. The contrast between his usual countenance and the one from the moment before inexplicably saddened Logan.

“You must have watched the night sky many times if you can recognize it in a glance,” Logan said.

 “Yeah,” Virgil said. “I did every night at the orphanage in the summer. There was a book on constellations that I found. I don’t remember them all, but I remember a few.”

“Which is your favorite?” Logan asked.

“I really liked the one of the Girl Who Sowed the Forest.”

“I made that one,” Logan said. He leaned over and fiddle with the panel a bit, causing most of the stars to dim except for a dozen.

Virgil smiled at it, and even held up a finger to trace the design of the girl with her basket.

“Do you know the myth behind that constellation?” Logan asked.

 Virgil shook his head.

“It’s about a young girl,” Logan began, “who lived in a town at the edge of a forest. Her exact age varies in the retellings, but usually she is somewhere between 10 and 12 years old. She loved the surrounding forest and would spend hours in it some days picking berries, watching animals, and just exploring. One day, there was a fire. In some stories, a group of soldiers came through and set it; in other’s it was a god who was angry at them. Yet, in most it was a member of the village who was careless and accidently set their village on fire during the night. The village burned down, and the fire spread to the forest. It killed most of the people in the village and burned for weeks. Eventually, it was put out by a rainstorm. The girl was taken by the surviving members of her village somewhere else to finish growing in a less baren place. Years passed until she hit adulthood. Her people sent young men and women on soul searching trips when they came of age. She did not mean to return to her old village and the still destroyed forest, but she stumbled upon it anyway. She looked upon the landscape that had once been her home. The land had not healed since she had left. It was still all ruined and it made her heart ache. She decided then and there that she would take it upon herself to heal what had been broken. She remembered from her childhood what plants and trees used to grow there and went and found seeds from other places and people and brought them back to her home. She spent the rest of her life living in a house she built in her old village, planting seeds, and helping the forest grow once again. By the time her life came to an end, the forest was returning. They say when the trees of that forest finally grew tall enough, years after her passing, they themselves placed her image in the sky.”

 “Wow,” Virgil said. “I didn’t know the myths were that complex.”

“I also enjoy watching the stars,” Logan said, “and constellations are good for navigation. I’ve found the stories people have made up about them more often than not are meant to help one navigate life.”

“Do you know others?” he asked tentatively.

“I do,” Logan confirmed. “Would you like to hear another?” He nodded, and Logan reached over to turn all of the stars back to 25%. “Which one would you like to hear about next?”

When Patton returned, he didn’t disturb their conversation. Instead he just sat down silently next to him and listened to Logan tell the stories.

 Virgil started to droop part way through the third story, and Patton suggested he lay down. He tucked the boy in as Logan continued the story. Eventually he fell asleep, face lit lightly by the hanging stars.

“Okay,” Patton said when Logan ended the story and Virgil still didn’t stir.” I think it’s probably time for us to go to bed too. Logan nodded and they both stood. Logan quietly shut the closet door and checked the binding spell around the closet’s exit to make sure it would hold. Then, he and Patton got ready to go to sleep themselves.

  Chapter 11

Over the course of the next three days of Virgil’s captivity, Virgil would come to the conclusion that his captors were idiots.

This thought flickered to life once again as Logan leaned into the closet to point out another constellation on the ceiling, tottering unstably on his knees as his weight shifted forward and distracted by his enthusiasm.

They were alone in the prince’s room. Patton had left only a few minutes before to help his mother in the kitchen (less because she needed help and more to not make her suspicious about why he’d spent so much time away in the last few days).

 He wouldn’t be back for a while and Virgil had full mobility in the closet. With Logan leaning over the threshold like that, it would be easy to kill him or even just incapacitate him. One rough yank on his arm would have him completely in the closet. Virgil had no question that he could pin him down so he couldn’t activate the restraints, and even if he managed to do so, he’d have been drawn close enough that Virgil could use his legs. He could either force him to take off the cuffs or, since they automatically went to the second setting when he left the closet, just deal with it until he managed to get away.

 It would just be so easy. Yet, he did not. He just watched Logan as he leaned stupidly over an assassin while info dumping about stars.

This was the first day that he hadn’t felt at all tired when he’d drank the provided nutrition and healing potion, though it had never affected him quite as much as it had the first day. Logan said that meant that his injuries must be healed. It was a weird feeling. He didn’t remember when the last time was that he wasn’t damaged in some way. Even before his grueling training, there’d always been bullies at the orphanage and he’d been the youngest and smallest in his age group.

 He was also more well rested and fed than he had been in as long as he could remember. He felt better then he knew was possible today, and he suspected that he would only feel better after a bit more time under their care.

He told himself that is why he didn’t lash out now. He was waiting until he was as strong as possible to make sure his escape went as well as it could, even if it was a risk. They’d mentioned that the king would be gone for three weeks. After he returned, Virgil would surely be turned over to people much more capable of actually keeping him well trapped and less likely to feed him well, give him a nice place to sleep, and leave him without injury. It was a gamble to stay, because it was possible that he wouldn’t find another opportunity in time and would get handed over to his fate. Really, if he was being reasonable, he should get out now while he felt good and had a secured opportunity.

 Still, he did not. He had not any of the times they’d given him the opportunity in the last few days. Logan finished his sentence and leaned back out of the closet to safety. He still was speaking though in that soft happy tone. Logan liked the stars. He liked to talk about the stars, and Virgil found he liked to listen to him. They tended to end up in this position whenever Patton was away, just talking as Virgil laid in his closet.

Eventually, Logan’s latest story tapered out. There was silence then for a few moments. Virgil stared up at the fake stars on the ceiling. The stars that Logan had made for him when he really did not have to. Virgil had not been expecting lights in the closet, let alone ones so beautiful and thoughtful. Not ones with stories behind them. Just days ago, if someone had told Virgil the prince would be keeping him in his closet for the next few weeks, Virgil wouldn’t have expected a blanket let alone all of this.

 He turned his head to look at Logan. “What?” Logan asked.

“Your magic’s very beautiful,” Virgil said.

Logan seemed pleased by the complement, lighting up almost as much as the stars he made. “Well, it’s just a basic light spell,” he said, “though I did make some adjustments to them and the dimmer was a bit more difficult. Anyone could do it with practice.”

Virgil shook his head. “They’re special, I think,” he said. “Your magic’s different than most people.”

“How so?” Logan asked curiously.

“It’s gentle,” he said. “Gentle and warm, like eating the warm soup you fed me a couple of days ago.”

 “And other people’s magic feels different?” he asked.

Virgil nodded. “I’ve met a lot of magic users, but it always felt bad. Usually it hurts or makes you feel sick or just makes you uncomfortable. Even healing magic always felt like bugs nibbling at my skin, but the potion you’ve been having me drink in the morning feels… safe. It doesn’t hurt or make me want to cry. It’s just good.”

“Magic often has much to do with the caster’s intentions,” Logan said.

“I think you could poison me gently.”

Logan made an odd expression. “That…” he said, nose scrunched. “That is a strange thing to say.”

Virgil cocked his head. “Is it?”

 “Yes!” Logan said, shaking his head. “You are far too comfortable with the concept of death for your age.”

“I’m fourteen,” Virgil argued. “That’s old enough to be sent on missions without a blood compulsion!”

“…A what?” Logan asked.

“A blood compulsion,” Virgil said. “You know, with a multrum.” Logan was frowning at him. “One works in your gardens and you’re a prince. You had to at least have seen one or two. They take a bit of blood and multrums process it into a little bead. Then you’ve got to do what your told or it hurts a lot.”

 “I know what a blood compulsion is,” Logan said. “I am simply wondering who would put one on a fourteen-year-old.”

“They don’t,” Virgil said. “They stop putting them on people when they turn fourteen.”

“And exactly what is the age range for it?” Logan asked. Virgil was almost startled by the way his tone was quickly hardening. He’d never heard him be that harsh even when he’d first woken up in his custody. It made Virgil tense up.

“They take kids usually when they’re about 8 and it’s a year of training before your sent on a mission so 9-13,” he said.

 “That’s horrible,” Logan spat so violently that Virgil flinched. Logan didn’t seem to notice. “They force children to kill under a blood compulsion?”

“Well, no one really wants to do it without one when they’re that little. They get scared, and usually try to chicken out so…”

“So, they torture them unless they kill someone.”

“I mean… it’s not. They have to agree to the deal.”

“And if they don’t agree to it?” Logan asked.

Virgil thought back to the second time they’d made him get a blood compulsion. It had been with the multrum before Janus, a girl by the name of Alina. He’d made the mistake of hesitating on his first kill and faced the consequences before finally giving in and doing the job. When the second mission had come around, Virgil hadn’t wanted to accept the blood compulsion.

 That had been the first time they’d made him drink a binding potion. Logan seemed to be able to get an idea about it by the look on his face.

“So, your options were to be tortured, be tortured in a different way, or murder someone.” Logan looked at him. “You said your fourteen. Have you ever even killed of your own volition?”

“I… no,” he admitted, but quickly added, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“That explains a lot about your personality and reactions so far.”

Virgil rankled at that for some reason. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 Logan just stared at him for a long moment. “What they did, what they are doing isn’t right you know?” he said.

Virgil blinked at him but said nothing. He became more and more uncomfortable in the silence that ensued.

“Would you like to learn more about magic?” he asked. “There are many uses other then to hurt. I can teach you a few basics if you like.”

Virgil was confused about the topic change but was relieved about it. “Uh,” he thought. “Sure. That would be… interesting.”

Logan smiled at him. “I’ll set up something and we can work with it in the next few days. What would you like to learn?”

“Um, I have no idea. What is there?”

Logan considered it for a moment. “We could do a hair color changing potion. Or perhaps a small protection charm or I can teach you to make fire shapes.”

 “Protection charm,” Virgil said without hesitation.

Logan gave him a sad smile. “Of course. I’ll start showing you how to make them tomorrow and we can actually make some the next day.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed.

“Would you like to hear more about the stars?” he asked. Virgil nodded. He once again leaned into the closet to point and Virgil once again did not move to attack. Nor did he attack when that afternoon Patton turned his back on Virgil for far too long when they were alone. Nor did he when they settled him to bed once again in the closet. He told himself it was strategic, but he knew it wasn’t.

  Chapter 12

Logan had needed to spend some time performing royal duties today which left Patton and Virgil alone after breakfast. Patton had started out trying to teach Virgil different board games. He’d seemed intrigued at first, but after a few games of checkers seemed to grow bored. Patton had gotten a blank stare when he’d asked if Virgil had any ideas about what to do for fun, so now he was trying to figure out something else they could do. He cast his eyes around at what Logan had in his bedroom.

“How about I read you a book?” he suggested.

 Virgil seemed very intrigued by that idea. “Sure,” he said.

“Okay!” Patton said cheerfully. “He popped to his feet and glanced through the small shelf of fiction books Logan kept in his room. He decided to choose one of the lighter ones that Logan and he had liked to read when they were younger. “This one is called The Never-ending Garden,” Patton said. “It’s about a group of four children and their adventures in a garden. It’s full of magic and adventure and friendship! Is that alright with you?”

“It sounds good,” Virgil answered.

Patton happily walked back over to sit next to him. “It is!” he said.

 First, he showed Virgil the picture on the cover of a wild looking garden with four kids roaming through it. One of the children was in a little red wagon being pulled by another one wearing a fancy hat. One of the others was walking, looking at a map while the last had a wooden sword. After giving Virgil a couple of moments too look at the picture, Patton cracked it open.

“We start with Lydia’s perspective,” Patton said. “She’s one of my favorites!” He pointed to a picture of a girl in a raincoat at the beginning of the chapter and Virgil leaned slightly closer to see. Then, Patton cleared his voice.

 “It had been raining that day,” Patton began, “but Lydia had been so bored that she still begged her father to go out and play when the storm lightened into a sprinkle. He made her change from the yellow dress she had been wearing into the one she often used to help him garden because he knew she was certain to get herself muddy. Her younger brother Marcus asked if he could come too and though part of her wanted to say no because she wanted to explore on her own without her baby brother slowing her down, her father had taught her to be a good big sister, so she agreed to let him come.”

 Patton watched Virgil out of the corner of his eye as he read about Lydia meeting up with the neighbor boy, Al, and the three children started to explore the garden in Lydia’s backyard. Virgil leaned in slightly to look at the pictures and listen to the story intently as the three children traveled deeper and deeper into the garden, but never made it to the back fence. They’d just made it to the part where they heard rustling behind the blackberry bush which Patton knew was the last main character, Melly, when Patton felt the need to adjust his posture a bit. Virgil moved in kind and ended up leaning further into Patton.

 Without even really thinking about it, Patton brought his arm around to touch the top of his head. Virgil flinched the second Patton made content and Patton drew the hand away immediately. “Sorry,” he said with a wince. Patton was a naturally touching person and he’d been having trouble battling his instincts to cuddle everyone and everything while around Virgil, but he knew most touch was not welcome. The poor thing startled every time Patton went to touch him unannounced and even sometimes when he’d said something before doing it.

“I-it’s okay,” Virgil said.

Patton gave him a tight lipped smiled and turned back to the book.

 He stilled a second later when Virgil leaned back in and their shoulders brushed. He blinked over at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Do… do you want me to touch your hair?”

Virgil curled up into himself a little bit but then nodded.

“Okay,” Patton said. “I’m going to put my arm around you and do that then, okay?” He drew upon his years and years of convincing easily startled cats to allow him to give them pats as he slowly moved his arm back to where it had been before and gently touched the side of his head. He tensed, but didn’t startle this time, and so Patton gently ran his fingers through the hair a couple of times. Eventually, the tension bled out of him and he sort of slumped against Patton’s shoulder. Patton just barely restrained a coo before going back to reading. He continued to stroke the side of Virgil’s hair as he described the gang meeting up with Melly and them being told she was a fairy that lived in the garden.

 He'd only gotten to the part about them finding the wagon when Virgil started to shift a bit uncomfortably, his neck craned in an awkward angle. Patton kept reading as he brought the hand in his hair down to his shoulder and pushed lightly. There was the slightest bit of resistance as Virgil didn’t know what he was trying to do, but then he allowed Patton to move him. Patton leaned back a bit and picked the book up off his lap before continuing to push him down. Virgil did not help at all, seeming confused about what was going on.

 Patton had to poke him around until he was on his back laying across Patton’s lap. He grinned down at the boy who was looking at him in blatant bewilderment and propped the book up on his chest. He held it there with one of his hands and stretched the other out to resume messing with his hair. Virgil relaxed into the new position after a few minutes of reading, eyes shutting as he enjoyed the attention. His eyes would flicker open every time Patton moved to show him a picture, but other than that, he seemed content to not move.

 Eventually, he stopped responding when Patton moved to show him the pictures.

“Are you asleep?” he asked quietly. When he didn’t get a response, he bookmarked the last picture Virgil had responded to, and then continued reading to himself.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door. It was the one he and Logan had decided on to tell the other one that it was just them and not to panic when the door opened. The door opened to Logan a moment later.

He paused, taking in the sight of the assassin sprawled across Patton’s lap like a sleepy kitten. He shook his head fondly and walked over to them on silent feet. He bent and pressed a hand to the top of Virgil’s hand. Virgil stirred just barely, but didn’t open his eyes, pressing into the touch a bit.

Logan smiled. “He wanted to learn how to make protection charms today. I assume you’d like to join us?” Patton perked up and nodded happily, making Logan chuckle softly. “I will go set it up then. Would you like another book for the time being?”

“Just the one I was reading last night would be nice,” Patton said.

“Of course.” Logan stepped away to grab it and handed it to him. Then, he disappeared into his potion’s lab. Patton smiled down at Virgil’s sleeping face and settled the new book onto his chest to replace the children’s book. He didn’t even stir.

  Chapter 13

Logan was able to quickly set up the station for making protection charms. Patton had always liked making them, though he often used his more as fun accessories than for protection. The one he was going to show Virgil how to make was a very simple low level one used for little more than to keep bugs off of yourself and, in the event of a well made one, alert one to imminent danger by changing temperature. It was a nice thing to hold in the middle of the night if one was frightened by real or imagined threats. It would be warm to the touch when your environment was safe; he thought Virgil might appreciate it.

 He and Patton decided to wait until Virgil woke up naturally which only took about 30 minutes. Then, Logan brought him to his set up supplies. He explained briefly the process for making a protection charm. “I will be the one performing the enchantment for today,” he told Virgil. “I will show you how to make your own later, but I thought seeing how to make them would help with the learning process.”

“Plus, it’s fun!” Patton said.

Logan flashed a smile at him. “And that as well. I’ve prepared a small number of possible pendants for you to choose from. You can choose the shape and color, then we will put on a custom engraving, as well as decorations.”

 “Glitter! Glitter! Glitter! Glitter!”

“Yes, Patton, everyone knows you’re going to choose glitter,” Logan said, amused, “but why don’t we let Virgil decide for his own pendant?”

“Fine,” Patton said, “but mine will be glitter.”

Logan grabbed the box of blank pendants and offered it to Virgil. “Choose whichever one feels right,” he suggested. Virgil moved forward and looked over the box. “You can touch them,” Logan said. “In fact, I would suggest it as it is meant to be held when it’s done and you may as well get a feel for it.”

At his prompting, Virgil did. He reached into the box and shifted a few to the side. Eventually, he started picking a few up. “I like the crescent shape for holding the most he said,” holding a blue one up, but I don’t know.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Patton asked.

“Oh, um,” he mumbled. “I dunno.”

“Well here,” Patton said, reaching for the box. He dug through it and pulled out every single crescent moon shaped pendant and lined them up. “What do you fancy?”

Virgil considered them all for a long moment and then tentatively pointed the purple one out.

“Great!” Patton said. “Then, we’ll use that one.”

Virgil nodded and Patton picked up the pendant to drop it into his hands. His fingers curled over the shape and he seemed satisfied by the choice, so Logan turned to Patton. “Your turn,” he said.

Patton happily grabbed out a heart shaped blue one, but then paused and exchanged it for a purple one. “We match!” he said.

Virgil smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, and Logan dug out a blue crescent moon shape for himself. “Now that you have your base, you get to choose the engraving.” He opened up the instruction book to the correct page and showed it to him.

Virgil looked over the two pages of designs with carful focus. He wavered between the spiral sun and the flames for a moment, but eventually settled on the flames. Patton chose the interlocking hearts design as anticipated; it was his favorite, and Logan chose the spiral sun design for himself.

“Now, I’m going to engrave this design onto yours,” Logan said getting out the thin pen like instrument and dipping it into the slightly glowing bottle of potion he’d set out. “In the meantime, Patton will show you what we have for decorations.”

He was careful to get the symbol as perfect as he could and then started on Patton’s. Patton apparently managed to corrupt the boy because both of them came back with brushes and glitter to add as decoration.

Logan shook his head and handed them their freshly engraved pendants. “Apply the glitter how you like,” Logan said, moving on to his own engraving. Once he was finished, he selected some glow in the dark paint to decorate his own.

 Once he’d finished decorating his own pendant, Logan looked up. “Are you finished?” he asked.

“Yep!” Patton said, shoving his pendant at Logan while Virgil nodded. Virgil had been far less enthusiastic than Patton, having carefully brushed glitter into the flame design only whereas Patton had haphazardly covered his own all over with glitter. Logan took both pendants.

“This,” Logan said, bringing over a different potion, “is used to make sure the decorations never fall off. It basically allows the other substances to become a part of the stone. “It isn’t too dangerous, but I’d suggest you stand back for the moment.”

 Virgil stepped back farther back than was strictly necessary and gave the potion bottle a wary look. Logan moved all three pendants to the prepared surface (else they ran the risk of also getting stuck to the table) and put on gloves, having learned that magically gluing rocks to ones hands was not fun years ago. Then, he carefully drizzled a bit of the potion onto each rock. The rocks fizzled loudly, and Virgil gave off a startled yelp before toppling over flat on his face with his wrist glued to his sides.

“Oh no, honey,” Patton said immediately crouching next to him. “I’m sorry. We should have warned you about the noise.”

Logan wasn’t sure what type of action he’d tried to take when the sound started up, but whatever it was, it had caused him to move his arms fast enough that he’d activated the binding potion and it snapped his wrists to his side, overbalancing him.

 Patton’s hands hovered over the startled boy, but he didn’t touch. After a few moments, it was clear that the magic keeping Virgil’s hands at his side released because his hands slowly crept forward to push himself up, so his face wasn’t planted against the ground. His eyes still looked incredibly startled.

“Are you alright?” Patton asked.

Virgil blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

Logan took his words as permission to move without risking startling him more. Virgil’s eyes bopped back and forth between him and Patton a few times as he crossed to his wall of potions and grabbed one.

 He also selected a clean cloth from a basket on his way over to them. “A light healing potion,” Logan explained as he knelt in front of Virgil. He uncorked it. “May I?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said with a frown. “I’m not even bleeding. It’s barely anything.”

“Which is why it’s a light healing potion,” Logan said. “You are sure to bruise with the way you hit. This will prevent it and make it stop hurting.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed after a moment. Logan dribbled a bit out onto the rag. After a moment of thought, he touched the damp part of the cloth with his own finger, just to quash any fears that it would harm him.

 “It will tingle slightly,” Logan warned. Virgil tilted his face to let him dab it onto his nose and the light scrape on his face. His nose scrunched up and he moved to rub the sensation away quickly only to have his arms slam back to his sides.

Patton caught him so the sudden involuntary movement didn’t cause him to fall back, and then giggled when Virgil titled his head to what could only be described as pout back at him.

“Aw, poor thing,” Patton cooed, reaching forward to rub a hand across the top of his nose and then his forehead where the potion had been applied for him.

 “Better?” Patton asked.

“You’re really bad at this being captors thing,” Virgil commenting, willingly leaning back into Patton. Patton just smiled happily.

Logan took the bottle and got to his feet, before returning it, and then glanced at the pendants as Patton helped Virgil to his feet. The pendants had stopped fizzing, so Logan felt okay reaching in and grabbing them all.

He handed both Patton and Virgil their pendants when they walked closer to the table.

“And now for the actual enchantment,” Logan said. “For today, I already prepared the potion up to the last step as it has to sit for a few hours, but I will show you the last step and eventually teach you everything if you are still interested.”

 Virgil nodded, but said. “No more noises?”

Logan smiled. “No more noises,” he confirmed. Then he pushed forward all of the ingredients he was about to put in the pot for Virgil to study one by one before putting them each in it in the correct order. Then he demonstrated how to stir it correctly and told him how many times, though he doubted he’d be able to retain all of the information from this one demonstration. “There,” he said, setting down his spoon. “Now we just all put our pendants into the pot, and they should be ready in 25 minutes.”

 Logan showed Virgil around his potion’s lab while they waited, explaining what certain pieces of equipment did and a bit about his organization system. Virgil followed him around, looking at the things he pointed out curiously. He, however, got very distracted when Logan showed him one of the experiments he’d concocted. It was a thick liquid that was super attracted to itself and would form a small ball that could be disturbed by touching it. He seemed to like the sensation of squishing it down onto a table… over and over and over again.

“We should get him a ball of yarn,” Patton said out of the corner of his mouth. He may have been enjoying watching Virgil play with the substance more than Virgil was enjoying playing with it himself. And that was saying something.

21984

Eventually, however, the pendants were finished, and he dragged Virgil away from his new toy to show him the finished product.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Is it supposed to be warm?” Virgil inquired.

“Yes,” Logan replied. “It’s temperature changes based on if the magic on it senses a threat or not. Warmer temperatures mean you are safe.

“Oh,” Virgil said softly, hand squeezing around it. “I like it.”

Logan found himself smiling. “I’m glad. It’s yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“If you would like, I’m sure Patton has some suggestions if you’d desire a way to keep it attached to your person. He in particular likes to make them into necklaces or clip them to his clothing.”

Virgil looked over at Patton and nodded shyly. Patton immediately perked up. “I’ll go get some supplies!” he said.

[solivagantis]

After the pressure retreats together with the bear, you find yourself being able to take deeper breaths again. It's not as if you felt suffocated before — not enough for it to cause anything beyond discomfort, in any case — but the difference is apparent. And the bear costume is only an ember to the inferno of Kagutsuchi's final vessel. Remembering your first and last battle with the god, you wonder how you'd been able to keep from burning your lungs out with the scorching air alone. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but then again, gods rarely do.

A couple of minutes pass as you stay put to see if the bear would come back. When there's no doubt about the answer, a resounding "no", you finally lower your weapon, and with some consideration, sheath it. Tension drains from your body, shoulders dropping and muscles relaxing. A quick check-in with Izanagi confirms your thoughts — the bear has left the two of you well and truly alone.

Not sure what to make of the encounter, you hold off picking up the shard, instead approaching the control panel. The monitors still show the sprawling architecture of the school. Hallways and classrooms, Persona fragments glimmering in the dimmed light, schoolgrounds with a lone Shadow slinking towards the building. And no sign of General Teddie.

Leaning over the panel, you start playing with the controls. Flicking switches and pushing buttons at random, watching the surveillance feed change. Just to have something to occupy your hands with while you think.

Your options are limited at best. Either leave with the fragment, or without it. Your job compels you to do the former, but you have reservations. Kagutsuchi, despite acting cagey, wanted you to take it. The bear even went as far as lying about preparing the scene just for you to make it more appealing. Hell, you'd witnessed the whole spectrum, from denial to bargaining to threats to coaxing. Nothing was spared to goad you into taking it. Something is amiss here.

At some point, your fingers start drumming on the metal surface. Forcing your hand to still, you push yourself away from the console and approach the fragment. It lays on the floor, glow steady and soft, unchanged by the departure of its previous holder. Izanagi, following your command before you can formulate it, starts the scan. Sword unsheathed once again, you give the shard a few hesitant taps with the blunt edge. A clear, bell-like tone rings out, filling the announcement room.

You can't leave with empty hands. Or, rather, you can, but you don't want to. Apart from completing a mission that was supposed to result in nothing, leaving the fragment here seems unwise. If there's something wrong with it — and there is — wouldn't it be better to take it back with you? Besides, if you leave it here, someone else can stumble upon it. Someone even less equipped to deal with this than you are. Whatever danger it might pose, it would be safer with the Operatives.

It is a Persona fragment, Izanagi prods you. But not an individual one. You're looking at an amalgamation of many Personae in solid form, all soaked in Kagutsuchi's residual power. A bit of Konohana Sakuya, a bit of Trismegistus, a bit of Sukuna-Hikona. And, true to the bear's word, a bit of Izanagi.

Although the piece was carved off when Izanagi was still just Izanagi, not Izanagi-no-Mikoto, the presence of it excites the Persona a great deal, it feels like Izanagi would chirp if given the means to. As it is, you're left with clawed hands squeezing your shoulders, a high-frequency pitch in your head, and a Persona floating up and down like an overenthusiastic child.

In the end, it's probably Izanagi who prompts you to pick one option over the other.

Crouched in front of the fragment, you stare into the core, where the crystal loses its translucency. The essences of Personae supposedly reside there, mingling together in a powerful cocktail of inner energy. And not just any Personae. For all of your fervor to get to the top of the tower, you never considered Izanagi. Getting a piece of yourself torn out had to be painful. You don't feel in any way less now, years after the whole ordeal, but looking at the way your Persona is acting...

An exasperated sigh escapes you. Sitting here doing nothing only wastes time. In one motion, you take a hold of the fragment.

And immediately hiss as searing pain shoots up your arm. Your whole body staggers forward in shock, free hand immediately darting out to brace it, keep you relatively upright. The shard burns, scalds under your fingers, making a disgusting seething sound, and you can't get it off. Your grip refuses to relax, palm glued to the smooth material. You can only watch, numb to everything but your hand. Oh god, did your skin melt into the fucking thing? Fuck fuck fuck it hurts.

That's when adrenaline kicks in, propelling you out of your stupor. Everything around you sharpens as pain dulls with the express purpose of getting you out of this as soon as possible. Your mind, tripping over the way the fragment brightens, now radiant and fluctuating like a desperate, frantic heartbeat an overcharged lightbulb about to explode, hyperfocuses on one task: tear it off. Damage control later.

Any other time, you would try to control the adrenaline rush. But now is not any other time. What the hell is wrong with this thing, it hurts more than any fire spell ever did. Manic energy dominating your every move, you scramble to your knees and lift the bad hand over your head, only to bring it down on the floor with all the force you can muster. And then again. And again, and again. Each blow sends more pain through your hand as ridges of the white-hot rock dig into your palm. But it's fine. A crack begins forming across the shard, spreading as it's slammed into the ground. For one sickening moment, you feel the crystal sink into your flesh, past the skin and deeper, before shattering under the abuse.

You stay still after, listening to the blood pounding in your ears. As the adrenaline high passes and the energy saps away, you're left with a collection of cold, colorless remnants and a hand that hurts like all hell.

Exhausted by the exertion, you get up to your feet and shuffle over to the control panel, a slight sway in your step. After sitting yourself down on the headboard, you look up. During the... situation, all contact with Izanagi ceased. Still, the Persona is here, previous enthusiasm noticeably soured. Right. The injury has to be dealt with.

Although you'd rather avoid it; the sharp smell of burned meat doesn't enthuse you much.

Now ever so closer to you, Izanagi extends his hands, patient before anything else. In a way, the sight of your Persona being fussy eases your apprehension. Sliding down the control panel, you reach out with your own hand.

The damage can only be described as a crater. A rapid incline mars the flesh of your palm where the fragment came into contact with it. Charred, your fingers still twitch involuntarily in response to pain. To test the movement, you ball your hand into a fist and back, scrunching your nose at the unnatural feeling of skin stretching to its limits and catching on the edges of the wound. Funnily enough, it's the edges that hurt, not the hollow. In fact, when you touch the stiff, bile-yellow tissue in the cavity, there's no feeling at all.

Before you can do any more harm to yourself, Izanagi seizes you by the wrist, claws tracing over the branded, leathery flesh. At the same time, the refreshing trickle of healing magic flows through your veins, relieving the pain. Not enough to stop it altogether, but you're not going to complain.

Still bothered by something, Izanagi pries your fingers open. The wound looks— bad, you're not going to sugarcoat it, but you don't see what else can be done at this point. The stupid rock really did a number on you, you have no energy to expend on further healing. One more time, your eyes glide over your palm, trying to figure out what about it irks Izanagi.

And then you see it. A bleary stain of sickly green among yellows and browns and reds.

God—damnit.

...Truth be told, extracting the piece turns out to be a straightforward process. Yes, it sits deep in the meat of your palm, where no foreign object should, and yes, it's caked over with a hard crust of dead membrane, but all in all, it's not too bad. A box cutter found after rummaging through the tables around the announcement room does the trick. Courtesy of burned nerves, picking at the wound is painless, if off-putting.

After the piece is uprooted from its resting place, some fused in tendons still clinging to it, it becomes clear why you hadn't noticed it sooner. It's a minuscule, insignificant splinter, even smaller than those scattered around the school. The only thing that sets it apart is the color. It retained its green tint where all other remnants of the shard lost theirs.

You offer it to Izanagi, who's been staying silent while you defaced your hand even more. With a great deal of reluctance, the Persona accepts, too-big hands careful and fumbling at the same time. But the second the splinter comes into contact with Izanagi, it ignites to life, and all caution is thrown to the wind. Claws clicking together, Izanagi clutches the splinter between his palms and curls in on himself, drinking up the energy.

How long it lasts, you're not sure. The light Izanagi radiates makes your vision swim, and the next thing you know, you're being steadied by your Persona. Like before, you don't feel any changes in your condition. Izanagi, though, Izanagi is... different. It's hard to tell exactly how. He looks healthier, if Personae can look healthier. Maybe the colors of his coat grow less dull. Can white be less dull?

Doesn't matter. Izanagi is feeling better, and that's all you need to know. Kicking back from your position on the edge of the control panel, you lean on the glass behind you. Cold metal dotted with buttons and switches doesn't make for the best seat, but you can't find it in yourself to bother locating a better one. "At least something good came out of this disaster," you comment in a diplomatic tone. Izanagi, for the lack of voice or any facial features, only nods in response. The room is quiet, save for the whir of servers in the corner. You exhale, tired and drawn-out.

Just a little bit of rest before heading back.