#How to open a Sentry Safe without a Key

[niaswish]

For Want of Common Sense

Chapter 6 Summary:

With a clearer mind and firm objective, Wato starts investigating.

Chapter 6: Wato is an inexperienced detective, but a detective nonetheless.

The first thing Wato did after waking up was check on the map -the detectives still hadn't moved- then try to send a message. He got the same error message, which was really starting to annoy him. He'd have to ask Techie what was up with that. Still, if they hadn't moved -and Wato hoped it was because they chose not to rather than being unable to do so- then he'd be able to find them more easily. 

Now that he had slept, Wato felt calmer. He really was inexperienced if a situation like that had made him forget the overall danger present on Morgue. As much as his heart told him he had to hurry to save the detectives, his mind reminded him of the dangers that filled the island.

He knew nothing about what separated him from the others. No idea of what trap the Duke might have planned for them. No idea of the layout of anything on the island.

Rushing in without a plan was more likely to get everyone killed.

With that in mind, Wato started exploring the basement while thinking about what he knew, and what he needed to find out before he could make a decision.

1) Holmes and the others were somewhere underground after having escaped from the manor. 

2) They hadn't moved in hours, meaning that they either couldn't move forward or that they chose not to. Whether they were alive or not didn't matter right now, since Wato would still head there regardless.

3) He didn't know what laid between this basement level and the others.

4) He had called the DA, which meant that backup was on its way. He didn't know how long it would take them to arrive, nor who they would send.

In the end, it came down to a single thing. Wato needed to find a map of any and everything that had been built on Morgue. With that, he'd be able to know how to get to the other detectives, and leave signs for the DA rescue team to follow as well.

That meant going through the archive rooms. He took a moment to open the shudder he found; seeing if that would help with sending a message, but not surprised when the same message popped up; before heading towards the elevator.

Since he hadn't expected to be gone from the manor for long, he hadn't grabbed any food. While there would be no food within the lab or manor, the boat Holmes had come in might have something for him to eat.

It would probably be a good idea to keep some food for the others if he did find some.

Wato called for the elevator only to frown as nothing happened. He tried again, double checking he had the good key, to no avail. Did it break last night? Best check the breakers just in case. He didn't see anything wrong, but that didn't mean there wasn't a problem.

He passed a hand through his hair as he added it to his list of things to figure out, though at least this one should be easy to fix once he got to Techie. That meant Wato would have to hope the records held in the basement would include a blueprint or two.

-=-=

Wato dropped to sit against the wall, one trembling hand holding onto the records of his time in that prison. His head ached with the flood of memories, of Seika and their escape, of her sacrifice. "Damn it Seika. You should have just escaped." He was going to throttle her when they were safely back out of here. Unlike him, she had a brother to return to!

He breathed through the pain, letting his head thump against the wall behind him. Out of habit he checked the map again only to jerk upright at what he was seeing. They were moving! It was slow and almost seemed to go in circles in some places but they were moving.

Wato swore as he remembered the testing sentries. If the one above worked on the same command system then the sentries in the maze had to be active too! He needed to find the command codes for them and shut them down!

Scrambling to his feet, Wato threw himself at the archives, grabbing then throwing away file after file. Every moment felt like minutes too long, one that might end up with someone getting hurt or killed.

Finally, he found what he wanted.

Without wasting another moment, he ran out of the room towards the closest lab. As soon as he arrived, Wato activated the closest computer and focused on the moving dots on the map. As long as their movement pattern didn't change then they were still safe.

With Mystic and Senior injured, they would have a hard time dealing with most of the sentries. 

It took him longer than he wanted to get into the sentry program, thankfully it had an old style password recovery system that allowed him to bypass the login requirements, but he did manage to send out a forced shut down sequence throughout the maze. Another check of the map; they were still moving steadily and together; before Wato started looking for a blueprint of the maze in the electronic files.

Soon enough, he had everything he had planned to get, and more considering he now had some of his memories back. It was time to face some old demons and rescue Seika and the other detectives.

A/N: Wato has his memories back! And most of Denouement as well. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

[alec-flynn]

WHERE: jamie’s place. WHO: @indyerstraits​ & alec.

Alec was never really sure what he was doing at any given time, and perhaps that was the most true when it came to Jamie. It was a constant toss up between wanting to play it safe and wanting to play it cool, but his perpetual state of frustration at having to think at all was beginning to weigh on him. It had been so much easier before he’d taken a wrecking ball to his own defenses and he couldn’t figure out how to get back to that version of himself.

Even still, he hadn’t hesitated when Jamie’s invitation came through, slipping out of Mack’s without so much as a goodbye unless he wanted to field questions for the next hour that he was too high to give a shit about. 

Tonight, at least, he didn’t have a care in the world.

With the windows down and his left arm making waves against the wind rushing by, he felt the magic of the night like an electric pulse. The trees that framed the road, standing sentry as he drove, all seemed to nod as he passed. He nodded back and made a sharp left as he turned into Jamie’s neighborhood. 

Crawling to a stop at the curb outside the Dyer home, he didn’t bother rolling up his windows as he yanked the keys from the ignition, Bessy groaning as the engine rattled to a stop. 

He jogged up the drive, slipping one hand into his pocket as the other knocked out a familiar five-knock beat against the door. Leaning casually against the frame, he pulled free the sandwich bag. 

When the door opened, his smirk widened and he held the bag up where it swung enticingly by his face, his eyes settling on Jamie in the doorway. “Happy New Year,” he said in a low voice. “I brought some party favors.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.8 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Edge has got a handle on this parenting stuff. Seriously. He does. It's alllll under control.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

In Underfell, Edge always showered quickly and efficiently. It was the surest way to avoid the bursts of cold that came from their capricious hot water heater, and there was no reason to assume things would be different in Underswap. Efficiency was the key to many things in his life and kept the juggling act that was his life well balanced between his guard duties, his training with Undyne, and simply dealing with his brother.

He’d expected to be able to transfer those lessons to caring for this child; practical efficiency, that would be the way. What he hadn’t considered was how such a tiny little creature could thwart his plans so easily, nor had he anticipated how much effort was involved in all this, even when it came to something so simple as a bath.

Once the tub was full of water and frothy bubbles, and the baby was down to her bare bones, Edge was forced to consider the best method of bathing her. She wasn’t able to sit up on her own, but she could if braced and managed to more or less hold her head upright, surely a minor magic of its own considering the ungainly size of her skull.

The easiest approach seemed to be holding her up with one hand and bathing her with the other. It was a reasonable strategy. He should be able to finish quickly with none of the aforementioned ‘greased watermelon’ issue coming into play.

What he didn’t take into account was that she was less of a simple slippery melon and more of a sentient squirming slippery melon, with legs and arms and an unshakeable will of her own.

The moment he lowered her into the bath, the child began to thrash, making a fair attempt to bash the bubbles with both tiny fists and feet. She laughed gleefully as the water splattered around them, right up until the wave returned to splash her directly in the face.

The baby sputtered and coughed, floundering as she gasped for breath while Edge struggled to keep her head above the water. Her chin trembling as she turned her dripping face to him, sockets wide and wounded as if seeking reassurance for this terrible betrayal.

Edge couldn’t hold back a low chuckle, “I’m sorry, child, but that’s what happens when you don’t consider the consequences of your attack.”

His amusement seemed to spur her own. Her upset forgotten, she chortled happily and renewed her attack on the water, and this time the wave encompassed them both. In the end, there was very little washing on his part. The best he could manage was keeping her from slipping underwater as she splashed and played. It wasn’t the most efficient method, but he had to admit, she was very clean when he finally lifted her from the tub despite her loud protests.

Then came drying which turned into a game of its own when he learned that if he held up the towel so she couldn’t see him, then quickly dropped it, she would squeal happily, hands and legs flailing with her excitement. That continued long after she was dry, until she began sucking on her fingers again, a sign he’d learned to read as meaning that food needed to be on its way soon or else the screams would quickly begin.

Her pajamas had escaped her watery wrath, at least, and that gave him another new experience to manage. She seemed to have very little control over her own limbs, they flailed and waved seemingly of their own accord and combatting that to gently navigate them through narrow sleeves and pantlegs proved a heroic task all its own.

By the time he was done, she was clean and dry, sitting pertly in her light blue pajamas with a snowflake motif, and he was a sweaty, damp mess in Stretch’s ratty old bathrobe. How did parents manage this, he wondered, how had his brother managed this? His esteem for everything his brother and Stretch must have endured to care for him and Blue had raised tenfold in the past 24 hours, with no end point in sight.

The finger sucking was increasing in urgency and Edge sighed inwardly, already resigned to all his hard work being rendered useless within the hour. He lifted her up, cautiously balancing her on his hip as he’d seen Stretch do, and found it not only comfortable but also a way to free one hand.

“Come along, little one,” Edge told her, smoothing that hand down the curve of her skull. “Breakfast is downstairs.”

She babbled softly, little nonsense sounds of agreement that food was an excellent choice, and he smiled helplessly.

“You need a name,” he told her as she cooed up at him. “But perhaps I need to know you better before choosing one.”

Down in the living room, Stretch and Red were sitting on the sofa together, looking for all the world like they hadn’t been talking about him while he was gone. One of those colorful bowls was in the table, half-full of some sort of pale mush.

“hey, you two,” Stretch said. One side of his mouth curved in a half-smile, his gaze more on Edge’s bedraggled form than the baby. “made it out alive, huh?”

“She made a fair attempt at drowning me,” Edge admitted.

“ya look like she won,” Red said, unimpressed, and of course he wouldn’t know Edge had already heard his pride this morning. That memory was already tucked away safely in his soul.

“there are no winners at bath time, only survivors.” Stretch reached for the child. “here, let me handle second breakfast while you get changed.”

Edge stepped back enough to put both of them out of reach. “I can do it,” he said firmly.

“sure you can, but i can also help, you know.” It was lightly said, in the same tone as yesterday when Stretch pointed out he didn’t need to slap away helping hands. It left Edge torn with indecision. On one side of the coin, he needed to become accustomed to handling the child on his own. Once he found a job and they found a place to live, he wouldn’t be able to depend on Stretch for simple childcare. But on the other, he was here now, damp, undressed, and thoroughly ready for breakfast and a shower of his own.

He looked at Stretch, at the dark circles under his sockets, the mismatched clothes he’d likely scrounged from the unfolded clothes pile. He’d already done so much for them, more than anyone could reasonably expect, far more than a fuckbuddy, as he’d called it, should. Edge couldn’t keep asking for more.

“She’s already wreaked her havoc on me,” Edge managed to gesture at his damp bathrobe without the use of his hands, “I may as well take the full brunt of the damage she can cause before I clean up.”

It was the right thing to say. Stretch laughed and shook his head. “heh, fair enough.” He gave the bowl a nudge in Edge’s direction. “have at it.”

Edge settled the baby into her little pillow fort before picking up the bowl. The contents were gooey and a brownish-beige, unrecognizable. He sniffed it warily, “What is it?”

“banana.”

Edge scooped up a spoonful and let it fall back into the bowl with a wet plop. His experience with bananas was limited to pictures he’d seen in books. That was the sort of fruit only found in the King’s orchard, not in the outskirts of the Ruins where Snowdin lay.

“It doesn’t look like any of the pictures I’ve seen,” Edge said doubtfully. For one, he was very sure that bananas were supposed to be yellow, not the shade of the old personal computers that littered the dump.

“you probably saw them pre-baby smash,” Stretch said, “g’wan, she’s waiting.”

She was in fact smacking her mouth like a baby bird, gurgling hopefully. Well, he’d trusted Stretch so far, now was not the time for doubts. He scooped up some of the gunk and poked the spoon between her teeth. Then he had to grapple it free when she bit down, grunting and wriggling enthusiastically as she messily swallowed down her mouthful.

Behind him came smothered laughter from his unwanted audience.

“yeah, gonna have to be quicker than that,” Stretch chuckled.

Red hooted a laugh of his own. “be glad she ain’t got sharp teeth. almost lost a finger coupla times with you.”

Edge scowled at the baby, who met his glare with pure innocence that no longer fooled him. He was a captain in the royal guard, a days-old child was not going to outmatch him.

This time when he poked the spoon into her mouth to deposit the banana, he quickly pulled it back out before her teeth could close around it.

“Aha!” Edge said triumphantly. “You see? A little cooperation and we’ll get this done, child.”

“Brrrrp,” the baby replied, spewing smashed banana directly into Edge’s face. He sputtered, falling back, but it was too late. He could never again say that he didn’t know what slightly used banana tasted like, not unpleasant but definitely not something he’d choose on his own.

A sort of strangled sound came from behind him and he swung around to find Stretch nearly neon in the face, his gaze firmly on the ceiling and his teeth locked together. He refused to meet Edge’s glare, only studied the ceiling as if the answers of the universe might appear there, if only he looked hard enough.

His brother, on the other hand, was never shy about enjoying the pain of others. Red only grinned at him, asking with disturbing sweetness, “problems, pap?”

“Not at all,” Edge said stiffly.

“uh huh. paybacks a bitch, bro.”

Before he could scold Red for his language— honestly, her first word was going to be some sort of swearing, he just knew it— the front door opened, and Blue was talking before he even made it through the entryway.

“Papy, I’m home,” he called, “which you shouldn’t be because you’re supposed to be at your sentry station, what if a Human came through—"

Blue stopped, words trailed off as he stood in the doorway, a swirl of snowy air blowing in around him as he took in Edge, dressed only in Stretch’s bathrobe and a newly acquired layer of banana, his brother and Red taking up the sofa, and of course, their smallest and newest guest who paid him no mind, too busy preparing to decorate Edge with second banana-y coating.

“Is that a baby?” Blue said at last.

Edge groaned inwardly. Here we go again.

tbc

[tf2workbench]

TF2 inequity

One thing you may not know about me is that I study accessibility, especially as it pertains to learning and school environments. Accessibility is often perceived as exclusively “for” people with disabilities, but it’s much broader - we all benefit from things that are more accessible.

With that in mind, I want to talk about what aspects of TF2 are inaccessible - or at least less accessible than they could be.

One recurring theme is that team play is integral for success in Team Fortress. That requires close communication, and since you can’t very well type while in combat, voice chat is the way to go. But this naturally excludes a sizable number of people. What about... ...people who don’t have a mic? ...people whose voice doesn’t “sound like” their preferred gender identity? ...people who speak with an accent or have trouble speaking clearly? ...people who are ashamed of their voice, don’t like to speak, or might face harassment based on how they speak? ...people who play in a noisy environment? ...people who are free-to-play and have chat privileges removed?

This is by no means an exhaustive list, but try to keep in mind that not everyone can use voice chat safely. Yet it’s so important for coordinating a team, even just in casual servers.

I would probably ascribe this to a lack of attention on the developers’ part. Remember that TF2 started development in the late 1990s and was released in 2007, when the game industry was even more exclusionary than it is now. I suspect that they really didn’t consider many of the barriers to playing their game - and if they did, they clearly didn’t think it was important to help mitigate those difficulties, and they still have not done so.

One feature I want to commend them on, though, is the detailed voice command menu. By pressing a key combination (by default: Z, X, and C open up the menus), players can communicate a wide variety of things without needing to type or talk. For instance, Z + 4 is “Move up!”, while X + 3 is “Sentry ahead!” These are handy for everyone, regardless of whether they can or can’t use voice or text chat. Honestly, I wish they were a little more detailed, but I understand the need to keep the menus simple and easy to use.

There are third-party tools out there that can help make TF2 more accessible. I know there’s a tool that effectively gives the game subtitles (as with a lot of assistive technology, it was developed for high-level players who wanted to automate some of their gameplay). I don’t know of a good speech-to-text program that works for TF2, but I would love to see something like that developed.

Third-party tools are no replacement for accessibility in the actual game, though. And with a team-based game like TF2, it’s oftentimes hard to facilitate good team play without use of voice. The voice command menu is an excellent start that many games lack - but it would be very interesting to see developers work on good communication features for people who prefer to communicate without voice chat.

[1-800-hellraiser]

Underfell!Sans x Female!Reader

Hello! I'm back with an Underfell Sans oneshot! I'm an absolute S I M P for this man. Anyways, PLEASE READ THE DISCLAIMER BEFORE THE ONESHOT!!! Underfell is NOT my Au, it belongs to @VictheUnderfella. Undertale is made by Toby Fox, Sans and Underfell!Sans aren't my characters! The reader will use She/Her pronouns (sorry dudes and nb pals). Have fun reading :)

❗DISCLAIMER❗

This oneshot contains mentions of verbal and physical abuse, mentions of the aftermath of abuse, smoking, and swearing! If you are triggered by/ uncomfortable with reading about these topics, I suggest you don't read this oneshot. If you're not triggered by/ uncomfortable with reading about these topics, you can proceed forwards. 

     I also made a reader insert, your character is not a human. The character can be found here. I will write this in a way where it includes everyone, I just made the ref sheet so I can at least have something to go off of in terms of outfit/makeup/species of monster.

I Wanna Be Yours

Word count: 3,936

Song: I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

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"Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours. I wanna be yours."

      Flick. Your lighter lights with a simple motion of your thumb. You hold the lit cigarette to your dark colored lips and take a puff. You developed the nasty habit of smoking when you first became a part of the Royal Guard. Being a Guardswomen is tough, considering you actually had a kid fall down into the underground a day ago. You never thought it would happen to be honest, maybe you can finally get out of this hell hole and away from the insufferable assholes that inhabit it. Except for Sans. Sans has been your only escape, your safe haven. You met him through his brother, Papyrus. When you first became a Royal Guardswomen, you met Papyrus and Sans. After having a somewhat awkward conversation with the smaller skeleton, you both hit it off instantly. You two actually share a sentry station near the Ruins.

      Both of you share puns and stories with one another. Stories about the good, the bad, and sometimes, the ugly. Sans isn't the most trusting person. It took you a while for him to open up to you about his past. About a year and a half to be exact. Once he told you a bit about his past, you felt so bad for him. Even though he doesn't want pity, you can't help but feel bad. His brother is a very verbally and physically abusive person, especially when things don't go his way. Papyrus usually takes his anger out on someone, and that someone is usually Sans. You want to take him away from this situation. You want him to live an abuse-free life. You want him to be happy. As soon as you leave the underground, you want to take him away with you, if he lets you, of course. But for now, you just have to be there for him when he needs you to be. 

      "Ay Y/n, you okay?" Sans says, waving his skeletal hand in front of your face. "Uh, yeah, I'm good, I just kinda zoned out." You mumble, taking another drag of your cigarette. Sans looks at you skeptically before returning back to what he was doing. Suddenly Sans turns to you "Ya wanna go to Grillby's?" He asks. "Yeah, I got nothin' else to do." You respond. He takes your hand and teleports into the small diner. You two take a seat at your usual spot at the bar. "I'll take my usual," Sans says to Grillby, you order your f/f. You and Sans just chill and talk while enjoying your meals. After cackling at Sans' story of Papyrus somehow getting his head stuck in a bucket, he goes quiet. You ask him what's wrong. "Can I ask you somethin' Bud?" He asks. "Shoot at me." You reply. "What would you do if you lost the person you love most?" He questions, you're a bit stunned at the serious question. 

     "I think I'd go crazy. I don't think I could live without the person I love most. Why do you ask?" You question the edgy-looking skeleton. "No reason, I'm just curious 's all." He says, shrugging. You nodd skeptically, you knew he was going to say something else, but then decided against it.  After your meal, you realize it's actually pretty late. About six pm, to be exact, both of your sentry shifts ended two hours ago. "Shit! I gotta go, Papyrus is going to crucify me if I'm not back by six. Same time tomorrow, Dollface?" You chuckle, "Same time everyday, Sans," You retort. "I wish he meant to call me Dollface." Wow, that thought came out of nowhere. A blush spreads across your p/f/c (pastel favorite color) cheeks. You and Sans always call each other pet names, platonically, of course. Sighing, you begin walking to your apartment. There was a small apartment complex behind Grillby's that you live in. You used to live in Waterfall, but moved to Snowdin once you got paired with Sans to your sentry station. Even though sentry can change in an instant, you and Sans mostly stay in Snowdin. 

       Arriving at your apartment, you fish your keys out of your pants pocket. You open the door and sigh a sigh of content. After chucking off your boots near the door, you trudge to your bedroom and change into a pair of black sweatpants and a baggy blue shirt that says "Big Dick Is Back In Town" on it in Times New Roman font. You turn out the lights and collapse on your bed. Within seconds, you're fast asleep. At seven thirty am your alarm rings in your ear. You proceed with your morning routine, you shower, do your hair, put on some makeup, and get dressed. When you go to get dressed, you realise something. "Fuck I forgot to wash my work clothes yesterday!" You groan. You literally have four of the same pairs of pants and shirts you wear for work. You sigh exasperatedly, you have to wear the same ones you did yesterday again. Grabbing your phone, you set a reminder to wash your work clothes tonight at six thirty.

      After that, you put on your boots and leave your apartment. Taking a few shortcuts, you arrive at your shared sentry station, cigarette in between your clawed fingers. You sigh, Sans isn't even at the station yet. Anxiously, you wait at the station. About ten minutes later, Sans finally appears at the station, panting and shaking. "Are you okay?" You ask, concerned. "Does it look like I'm fuckin' okay to ya'?" He snaps back. Shocked, you stay silent. You know he doesn't mean to snap at you when he's mad, it's best to give him some space for a bit. You excuse yourself from the station, saying you forgot your phone at your apartment. "Make it quick, I don't want Papyrus to catch you." He says, your breath hitches. Oh, so that's what happened this morning. "I'll be careful, I promise." You reassure, taking a shortcut through the woods to Grillby's. You go in, and order Sans' usual and your f/f to go. As soon as you get the food you leave for the station again. You pop out the same way you entered, right behind the station.

     "I'm back." You announce, setting the plastic bag containing food in the front of the sentry station. "Where'd that come from?!" "Uh...Grillby's?" You say, "No-I mean-" sans sighs "I thought you had to go grab your phone from your apartment." He says, you chuckle. "Yeah, I lied. I thought you needed a little pick-me-up, considering the way you came to the station this morning." You explain, tail swishing a bit behind you at the uncomfortable subject. "Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate it, Doll." He says in a sincere manner. You love when he's soft with you when no one is around. In the Underground, it's considered "weak" to show genuine emotion outside of your home. You wish it wasn't like that, but sadly, this is the reality you have to live in for now. For now, you can only be there for Sans when he needs to show his emotions. He can't even show emotions in his own home, Papyrus will be a dick and judge him for it. It's not fair at all. 

       "Ya alright, Y/n?" Sans asks, pulling out of your thoughts. "Hm? Oh yeah." You respond, now realising how angry you must look. "Yeah, you looked pissed. Is somethin' up?" He asks, you sigh. You knew you'd have to bring this up eventually. "I'm just, so angry at your brother." "Why?" You look down at Sans. "Sans, he treats you like utter garbage! Why do you keep going back to him?" You sigh out exasperatedly. "Because I care about him, even if he doesn't care about me." He says sadly. Your e/c eyes widen. You get it now. He's the only one he has left that's his family. "Sans, I'm sorry. I know Papyrus is your brother, I'm just worried. All the scars he leaves you with. What if he damages you permanently?" You explain, biting on your black claw. Another habit you obtained from joining the Royal Guard. You look at Sans for an answer, you see a gentle red blush spread across his face. "I appreciate you caring Bud, I really do. But I can handle it myself." He says, looking you in the eyes. His red pinpricks aligning with your e/c irises. You sigh and avert your gaze down.

     "Okay, if you say so. But if anything ever happens, call me, I'll let you stay with me, okay?" You say, giving Sans your number, witten down on a tiny slip of paper. He says he will. The rest of the day goes off without a hitch. You and Sans finish your shift (on time this time) and part ways until tomorrow. You almost kick your boots off at the door before your phone starts going off. You quickly pull it out of your pants pocket, you sigh in relief. It's just the alarm you set for your laundry. You take your bin full of laundry to the basement of the complex and throw your clothes in one of the cleaner looking machines. As you put your laundry bin down next to the washer, your phone starts to go off. You check and Sans is trying to call you. You immediately answer the call. "Hey dude, what's up?" You say into the speaker. "Y-y/n, could I come over?" You hear his raspy, pained voice through the receiver.

      "Yes, of course! Do you need any help? You sound hurt?" You say panicked. "No Dollface, I got it." He says, you do not accept that. "Too bad. I'm coming over anyway." Before he could protest, you hang up the phone and speed out of your apartment complex. Thankfully, Sans' house isn't that far. After a short, speedwalk, you're staring down his front door. You rasp on the wooden door, waiting for a response. You were going to knock again, Sans opens the door, you let out a small gasp. Sans looks terrible, he was covered in his own blood. "Come on, you're staying with me tonight," you say, taking his boney hand. As soon as you start walking, you notice he also has a limp. If Papyrus were some random ass monster and not Sans' brother, you'd be covered in dust by now. You have a very motherly instinct, but only for Sans. You've never felt this way about somebody else before, you have no idea why either. 

       Once you and Sans reach your apartment, you bring him to your bathroom and seat him on the toilet (lid closed, of course). Grabbing your medical kit and some alcohol, you return to the bathroom and sit on the edge of your tub. "Could you take your sweater off? It'll be easier to clean your wounds." You ask, Sans slowly takes off his crimson red sweater. Suddenly, your bathroom gets really warm. You gasp at Sans' three cracked ribs, a bunch of cuts all over the others. You look up at him with concern written across your p/f/c face. "I don't want to talk about it right now." Sans mumbles, looking down. You take Sans' cheek bones in your hands, you tilt his head up to look at you. "That's okay, I'm just worried about you. You really don't deserve this Sans." You say, pulling your hands away from his face. You pour some alcohol on the washcloth and press it to one of the cuts on his ribs. He curses under his breath as you continue to clean him up. You'll have to call Alphys later about Sans' ribs, see what she can do about them. 

      "Alright Sans, just chill on my couch for right now. Uh, I gotta go real quick, I'll be right back," you say awkwardly, he gives you a thumbs up. Unlocking your door, you head down to switch your laundry. Once you come back up, you notice Sans wasn't sitting on the couch anymore. You panic and begin looking around your apartment, you stop in the entrance of your tiny kitchen, Sans was making something. "Sans, what are you doing?" You ask, he jumps a bit, then winces. "I'm making us dinner?" Sans says, the room starts to get warm again. "Sans, you don't have to do that. You should sit down and relax." You encourage, he shakes his head at your proposition. "Nah Dollface, this is the least I can do for you." He says, continuing to cook a mysterious food. You come up behind Sans, "Sans please, I appreciate the gesture, but you have three broken ribs, you need to sit down and chill out." Sans sighs "Fineeeeeee." He whines, you chuckle at him. "What were you gonna make anyway?" "Nothin much, just some Spaghetti and meatballs." "Okay, gotcha." You say, taking over the kitchen to make dinner. 

      Wiping your forehead of sweat, you finished cooking dinner. You walk into the living room, and set his and your plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. You sit next to him and start eating. "Holy fuck Doll, this shit's amazing!" Sans exclaims, shoving more pasta into his mouth. You chuckle and thank him, as you keep eating. After you both are finished eating you run down to the basement one more time to grab your laundry and return to your apartment. On your way. Back to tour apartment however, you notice that Sans has been calling you 'Doll' and 'Dollface' a lot more than he used to. You shrug it off as him being thankful for your hospitality. You return to your apartment for the last time with your laundry basket in your hands. "I'll be right back, I just gotta put away my laundry." You say, Sans looks over the back of the couch at you and gives you a nod of understanding. You quickly fold your clothes so Sans doesn't have to wait awkwardly on your couch. As soon as you're done, you put the basket in your closet and leave. When you return to your living room, you discover Sans asleep on the couch.

      A small smile forms on your face as you go get him a blanket. After that, you change into a red tye-dye pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Soon after you lay down, you drift into a deep slumber. A few hours later, you are ripped from your sleep by a scream. You pull off your blanket and run to the living room. "Sans?!" You say worriedly and panicked. You see him tossing and turning on the couch, he's having a nightmare. Sans has told you about these haunting nightmares before, it usually happens after a bad day with Papyrus. Not really knowing how to deal with this situation, you sit on the edge of the couch and try to reach for him. As soon as your hand makes contact with his shoulder, he pulls away and curls up into a tiny ball. "Sans, it's just me." You say gently, scooting a bit closer to his trembling and sobbing form. You try to comfort him again, and he doesn't pull away this time. You pull him a bit closer to you. He rests his head on your chest and clenches his arms around you. You massage his skull with your fingertips and whisper sweet nothings to him. 

       After a while of comforting him, he falls asleep again. So you lay on the couch, Sans' head resting on top of you, blanket draped over your two sleeping bodies. After a few minutes, you fall back to sleep. You awake to one of Mettaton's shows. You were never interested in the performer robot that much, but this episode was a (what looks to be) a well made CGI human defusing a bunch of bombs. After a while, you forget about Sans laying on your chest, until he wakes up and jumps off of you like a startled cat. "Jesus! Just scare the shit outta me why don't ya?" You say, sarcasm lacing your tone. "Ah, sorry 'bout that Doll." "You're fine Sans." You chuckle. Looking up at Sans, you notice a light red blush across his cheekbones. Your heart skips a beat as you look at him, then you get up not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already is. Opening the fridge, you look for something to eat. You have eggs, bacon, and pancake mix in one of your cupboards, you take out all the ingredients you need for breakfast and start cooking. Sans insists on helping, but you tell him he needs to to relax because of his broken ribs.

      After a half hour, breakfast is completely done. You fix you and Sans a plate and bring it to the couch. Sans looks very fixated on Mettaton's show. This was a rerun of a previous show. You set the breakfast down in front him, he immediately begins choking down food. "Holy shit Sans! Slow down your going to choke." You scold. "But we're gonna be late to work if we don't." He explains, scarfing down his meal. You give him a confused look. "Work? We're not going to work today, we have to call Alphys over to see what she can do about your ribs." You say, you can feel Sans look at you like you had just told him you had a death wish. "I can't, Papyrus would freak out-" "Papyrus can suck my dick!" You cut him off out of anger. "Your health is WAY more important to me than what Papyrus might do." You snap, Sans sits in shock. You've never snapped at him like that before. Looking at his face, you realise what you just did. "Sans I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that, I just got to frustrated." You explain, Sans' face softens at your words. "Nah it's okay, I completely understand where you're coming from." Sans sighs, and rubs the back of his neck anxiously.

      To defuse the thick tension, you tell Sans you have to call Alphys and you'll be back shortly. You shuffle awkwardly to your room to make the call. Pressing the contact "Weeb Lord'' with a picture you took off of Alphys' social media (it's a picture of a trash can with several red sparkly filters over it) and press the call button. "Yo Alphys" "What is it Y/n?" She says annoyedly. "So, I need you to come over to look at Sans' ribs." You say, "What? Why?" "Papyrus and him got into it yesterday and he's staying with me for a while." You explain, Alphys makes a noise of understanding from the receiver. "Alright, I'll be over in 10." She says, you can hear her shuffling around. "'Ight see you when you get here." You end, hanging up the phone, not really wanting to go back out and just awkwardly sit with Sans, you decide to have a smoke. Grabbing you cigarettes and lighter, you begin to head out of your apartment. "Where are ya going?" Sans asks, still staring at the T.v. "I'm just going to have a smoke, I'll be back soon." You reassure yourself as you leave the apartment. Maybe taking a smoke wasn't such a good idea. It's cold as balls outside, you shiver as you take drags of your cigarette. 

     After you're done, you are about to go inside, but a certain nerdy lizard shows up. She follows you up to your apartment and in through the front door. "Ay look what the cat dragged in." Sans teases, Alphys glares at him. "Nah I'm just joking with ya, how've you been?" "Okay, yourself?" She asks back, Sans shrugs. "Eh, could be better." "Yeah, I heard. Would you mind taking your sweater off for me?" She asks, he reluctantly takes off his sweater again. Alphys studies the three cracked ribs for a second. "Hmmm. I think the best I can do for you is to wrap you up. Other than that, there's nothing I can do." She explains, beginning to wrap Sans' ribs. "You'll have to not go to work for a few days, take it easy. No lifting, no fast movements, nothing." She drones on. "Your best option is to stay with Y/n for now so they can help you heal properly." She states, finishing up wrapping Sans' ribs.

      You let out a relieved breath you didn't even know you were holding. You had hoped that Alphys would tell him to stay with you, Papyrus would probably just hurt him more in all honesty. "I'm going to give you some morphine to help ease the pain a bit." She says, handing Sans an orange pill bottle. "Take two when you wake up, and when you go to bed, if you notice the pain going away, then only take one per day." She explains. You and Sans both nod. "Thank you, Dr. Alphys." you say, Alphys nods. She takes her tote bag full of medical equipment, bids you and Sans goodbye, then leaves. You sigh, and sit next to Sans on the couch. You begin to think, why do you feel so nervous around him all of a sudden. Your heart skips a beat whenever he calls you "Doll" or "Dollface", his laugh gives you butterflies, you want him to talk to you forever, just listening to his New York accent makes you want to kiss him. You can't take hiding your feelings from him anymore, you have an undying love for Sans. 

       "S-sans, I gotta tell you something." You stutter out, Sans turns to you. "Yeah, what is it Dollface?" He asks, your heart beats faster and faster every passing second. "I think I wanna be yours, Sans." You manage to get out. As soon as those words leave your mouth, you regret everything. "Y/n, I...I think I wanna be yours too." Sans mumbles, scooching a bit closer to you. You move closer and closer to each other until your thighs are squished together. Sans cups your cheek with his hand, you place one hand on his shoulder and the other behind him. Sans sets his other hand on your thigh, you lean in and give him a smooch on his sharp teeth. You pull away before Sans' hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you into a more passionate kiss. The passionate kiss turns into a makeout session. Both of your mouths moving in sync, tongues sliding over each other, soft moans come from both of your mouths.

       After a minute of missing, you two pull away, a string of clear and translucent red saliva connecting to your mouths. "Oh my god....that was amazing." You pant, leaning back into the couch. Sans nods his head in agreement. "I'm so glad you confessed to me, Sweetheart. I've had feelings for you since we were stationed at our sentry station together." Sans explains, your heart skips a beat at your new nickname. You blush. "I'm so glad I met you." You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Same here Doll." Sans responds, leaning his skull on your head. You're both finally safe and happy.

[name-me-regret]

If The World Was Ending 11/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Eleven: Waking Up Slow

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Heaven help me My mind changes like the wind Please excuse me I don't know where to begin

But I didn't think I cared I could be your friend But I'm unprepared Oh, I've never felt like this

I was unaware That you were lighting flares Now I'm running scared Oh, how did it come to this?...”

~Waking Up Slow (Piano version) - Gabrielle Aplin

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

‘BUCK!’

Buck lifted his head and saw Christopher, he was barely hanging onto a cement light post as the water ripped at him like dark, reaching hands.

‘CHRIS!’ he shouted as he tried to swim toward him, before he was dragged under. But it didn’t matter how much he kicked his legs and moved his arms, he couldn’t get any closer.

‘HELP, BUCK!’

The water pulled at Chris and his little fingers were slipping and Buck felt desperation start to fill his chest when nothing he did could get him to the little boy. ‘PLEASE!’ he sobbed, seeing Chris’s frightened face as he reached one small hand toward him.

Then the water rushed forward and ripped him from reach and from view.

“NO!” Bucked screamed as he shot up in bed, eyes flying open. He searched the dark room, but he was alone in his loft. His chest was heaving, feeling his heart racing in his chest, but there was no water and he knew Chris was safe. Even so, he wanted to reach for his phone and call Eddie, since he knew he was home right now.

The only thing that stopped him was that it was his first day off after a 48-hour shift, and Eddie needed to rest. Hell, Buck had had Chris during that first 24-hours before Carla had come back to stay with him for the other day. Buck would have honestly been more than happy to take care of him both days, but Eddie had insisted that it was Carla’s job and that Buck didn’t have a job anymore so he couldn’t keep wasting money taking him out.

Buck knew Eddie hadn’t meant it maliciously, but the words stung more than he was willingly to admit, to be reminded that he was no longer a firefighter. Also, Buck wasn’t worried about money, since he kept getting his worker’s comp checks, and his savings consisted of all the money his grandparents had left him. They hadn’t agreed with their parents way of raising him and Maddie, especially how they’d cut her off when she’d married Doug. So, they’d cut them out of their wills and left it all to Buck and Maddie.

They’d been furious.

As for Buck, he didn’t care about the money. All her ever cared about was for his parents’s love and acceptance. He’d never gotten it.

Buck knew he was too keyed up to try going back to sleep, so he decided to take a shower to wash off the sweat. As he was coming out, his phone playing his Mellow playlist, it cut off in the middle of the James Bay song he was listening to. He immediately answered when he saw that it was Tony.

“So, you’re still alive?” Buck asked, a relieved grin on his face despite himself. His hair was still damp, and he’d yanked on some sweats and a t-shirt. The blonde man let himself fall on his bed, cell phone still against his ear. It had been two days since Tony had left, and he’d only received a single text from the man since then.

“Yeah... bruised and bettered, but still alive,” Tony groaned on the other end. There was shuffling on his end, followed by a clanking and then he heard JARVIS voice clearly stating that he needed someone else to stitch his wound.

“You’re trying to stitch your own wound?” Buck asked incredulously. “Don’t you have a tower with a medical floor?” He sat up now, worried for Tony and his apparent idiocy. And Buck thought he was a dumbass.

Tony fumbled with something as he grumbled. “I didn’t call to get lectured, Ev.”

Buck nodded with a sigh, running a hand down his tired face. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in the last two days, mostly because of nightmares. While the ladder truck bombing had given him his share of nightmares, the tsunami and losing Chris during the natural disaster was something worse. So, he was feeling a bit irritable at the moment.

“Then why did you call then?” He didn’t want Tony to think all he’d do was nag at him, as if he was his... well, his boyfriend or something. That had ended a while ago. “I can exactly help you stitch your wound with you being all the way in New York.”

Tony was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, I’m not exactly in New York,” he admitted at last. He heaved his own sigh and did something that gave a sort of ripping sound, and then hissed as Buck heard a smack. “I’m right outside L.A. in a SHIELD safe house.”

“And there’s no one there to help you?” Buck asked, already starting to stand up. He looked for his wallet and the keys to the rental the insurance company had given him, since his Jeep was a total loss and were in the process of getting a estimate and issuing him a check. He had insisted on getting his Jeep back, for sentimental reasons and it didn’t matter if they didn’t give him a check. Buck didn’t want a new vehicle, wanted to fix up his Jeep.

“I’m not exactly supposed to be here,” Tony admitted. He kicked at something on his end. “By the looks of things, no one’s been here in months.”

“Where are you?” Evan asked as he climbed down to the ground level and out of his building.

“What? Why?” He paused and listened, obviously having heard him get in his car and start the engine. “No, Ev, I’m fine. You don’t have to come here.”

“J, are you there? Send Tony’s location to my phone.”

‘Yes, Mr. Buckley, sending it now.’

“JARVIS, you traitor! I will donate you to a community college!” Tony snapped with no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounded more tired than angry.

“I’m on my way, you idiot,” Buck laughed. He heard Tony curse, but he didn’t tell him to stay away. Buck took that as a win.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The house wasn’t much to look at, and ‘a shack’ would be a better description for it. Buck didn’t see the armor, but figured it was inside with Tony. He didn’t even bother to knock and entered through the door, which Tony had probably left unlocked for him. It could also be because he didn’t expect anyone to come attack him, so whatever had caused his injury had probably been taken care of. If not, Tony wouldn’t have allowed JARVIS to give Buck his location.

“Tony?”

“In the kitchen,” he heard the man call.

A few moments later he entered what could maybe be called a kitchen. The table looked like anything more than the first aid kit resting on it would make it collapse, so did the two chairs that were the only thing in the room. It didn’t look like it had been stepped in for ages, judging by the dust over everything, the grimy stove and the refrigerator that was probably from the eighties, possibly the seventies. There was likely no food inside, and the sink and the faucets of it were rusted, so there was possibly no water.

Buck moved over and soon he was standing over Tony, who was sitting in one of the rickety chairs. He had a black eye that was almost swollen shut, several cuts and bruises all over his face and exposed torso, since he was shirtless. Tony also had a bandage taped against his left side, just out of where he could comfortably reach, and it was quickly being stained by blood. “You’re fine, huh?”

Tony scowled up at him past his rapidly swelling eye, and the armor silently standing behind him in sentry mode showed the dent on the face plate where he’d been hit. “I am,” he insisted. He indicated the bandage. “I managed to tape it up.”

“And JARVIS thinks you need stitches,” he said, removing his light jacket and hanging it on the other chair. “Turn this way,” he instructed as he pulled the chair with his jacket closer. He had to sit close to be able to examine the wound, and he shook his head when he pulled the bloody bandage off. “I’m a firefighter, not a paramedic, and even I know this needs stitches.”

“Well, take a crack at it, if you want,” Tony told him petulantly. He didn’t seem to happy with being seen like that, but he’d seen Evan like that so he didn’t know what his problem was. In fact, he’d been worse, but then again, he’d been eighteen at the time, almost nineteen. So, he guessed it was different.

Buck shook his head and yanked the first aid kit closer, which he’d obviously been trying to use by the blood smeared on the side of it. “I’d normally leave you to your stupidity, but then JARVIS would be upset,” he snarked back.

Of course, he wouldn’t actually do it, since he’d come all this way to help him. Buck cared about Tony, even when he was being snappish. They were both quiet as he worked, Buck having slipped on some gloves, and Tony grunted in pain when the needle first pierced the skin, but then his only response afterwards was a few flinches or his shoulders twitching for the next six stitches. “All done,” he said, cleaning the excess blood and tossing it all in the trash can Tony had obviously dragged closer. There wasn’t even a bag inside of it.

“Thanks,” Tony finally said after a moment of silence. His face was tired and Buck wondered how much sleep he’d gotten since the two days he’d seen him. The bags under his eyes told that it had likely not been much, so he probably felt as bad as Buck did.

“Are you staying here?” Buck asked, looking around distastefully at the grime and dust that covered every surface. He was sure the rest of the... structure was just as bad, or worse. At least it was only one floor, since he was quite sure anything higher might have collapsed by now. Then again, if it belonged to a secret spy organization, then it was probably reinforced to keep it standing. Buck wasn’t too keen on testing that theory out.

“I can’t really fly without fixing the helmet,” he said. Buck took that to mean that it was damaged enough that he might not be able to even use it. “I’ll have... Pepper send me the jet.”

“Or I could take you home,” Buck blurted out, not really thinking on what he was saying.

“I.. do have a penthouse in LA,” Tony mused out loud. Then he quickly shook his head. “No, never mind, I think it was damaged in the tsunami.”

“I meant take you to my apartment,” Buck clarified. He was amused as Tony’s gaze snapped up in shock toward him. “It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” He tried to keep the smirk off his face as he saw Tony’s face start to get a bit red. Buck hadn’t even know it was possible to make Tony Stark blush.

“I don’t... want to be a burden,” Tony said, almost stuttering. Buck was enjoying this way too much. “I don’t really have a change of clothes.”

Buck shrugged as he leaned forward, seeing Tony’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. “You can just borrow some of mine,” he said, making a show of checking his bandage, but he wanted to tease him a little. He’d always enjoyed flexing his flirting skills, and there was no one better for that than Mr. Tony “smooth-talking-charm-anyone” Stark. Then again, Tony had been Maddie’s friend since they were 14 and 16 respectively, Buck having been 10 at the time. It was the year before he started at MIT, and three years before his parent’s automobile accident.

He’d been a mess back then, alcohol and drugs and between Maddie and his friend Rhodes they’d helped him the best way they could. As for Buck, he had met Tony briefly but not entirely, and during that time he’d been thirteen. They hadn’t properly met until he was 16 (almost 17) and Tony had been 20, at a charity event that Charles Buckley actually donated to. Buck was convinced that it was just to keep up appearances, but it had benefited Buck that he could finally meet Maddie’s friend, Tony Stark.

Buck had been smitten almost immediately but Tony had refused the young man’s advances until he was actually 18. By then Buck had long known he was bisexual and knew exactly what and who he wanted, and he had wanted Tony. It was cliche that on his eighteenth birthday they’d finally fallen into bed together, but that’s what had happened, almost like a fairytale if one was being extra sappy and cheesy.

Then Charles Buckley had found out eight months into their relationship, and Buck had ended it to spare himself from his father’s bigoted, homophobic rage. He’d moved to LA a month after he turned nineteen.

Now here he had him once again and all those feelings he’d never gotten over were returning with a vengeance, despite his feelings for Eddie. He’d been hiding them well, hiding himself out of fear still, but it became harder now with Tony here. Because while he wasn’t sure that Tony had ever loved him, Buck was sure the man had been his first love, and you never got over your first love.

“Come home with me,” he told him, fingers coming to rest on his knee.

Tony’s eyes moved to the hand on his knee before they lifted to meet his eyes. “Yea-”

The sound of the front door being kicked in made them both freeze, and the armor turned as the repulsors charged with a whine. Buck stood and faced the open doorway even as Tony hissed at him to get back. There was no way he’d do that, not with Tony being injured.

They both tensed as an imposing figure entered their line of sight, a very familiar shield in front of them. “Tony?” he asked in confusion.

“Rogers,” Tony sighed as he slumped back in his chair. He winced a moment later and Buck wanted to immediately check the stitches, but he hadn’t moved from his position, which was between Tony and this man. “It’s alright, he’s a... not a threat.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed on the man, trying to place him, and definitely not trusting him in the slightest. “Why’re you kicking in the door?” Buck asked him as his eyes not once leaving him as he walked further inside the kitchen.

“Because this is a SHIELD safe house and someone broke into it,” he said, as if that explained that all. “I work with SHIELD.”

Buck opened his mouth to respond, not sure why this man got his hackles up, but paused as Tony’s hand touched his elbow. He glanced at the man, scoffed and backed off, physically and metaphorically as he sat in the rickety chair once again. “I’m surprised there’s even security system for this shack,” Tony told the man. He seemed to know him, whoever he was.

“It’s a low frequency alarm, which is why we only got here,” a woman said as she walked in after the man. Buck hadn’t even heard her come in she was so quiet. “I’m surprise you didn’t realize there was an alarm.”

Tony grunted as he put on his shirt carefully. “I didn’t really check,” he admitted. “I was preoccupied with other things.” He stood. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“You’re hurt?” the man asked, brow furrowed. “Do you need assistance?” He’d stepped forward and his blue eyes narrowed as Buck tensed and half rose out of his seat.

“He’s fine, I took care of him,” he said.

The man, Rogers as Tony had called him, frowned. “And you are?”

Tony opened his mouth, but Buck cut him off. “Buck,” he said, holding a hand to him. And even as he smiled at him, there was no warmth in the expression. “A firefighter with LAFD.”

Rogers hesitated a moment, seeming to stiffen at the mention of his name. He eventually took his hand, grip firm as he shook it. “Steve Rogers. That’s an interesting name.”

Buck shrugged as he released his hand and tipped his head at the woman, who hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. Except, she really didn’t have to now that Buck new the man’s name. He was Captain America and that must mean she was Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, who had wandered closer to Tony to check him over. Tony just waved her off. “It’s actually Evan Buckley, but everyone just calls me Buck.”

Tony stood as well now. “Well, not that this hasn’t been swell,” he snarked, “but I’m eager to get into Ev’s bed.”

Rogers sputtered and Tony only grinned and didn’t correct what he must be thinking. He moved past them all, and Buck nodded as he also left the room. The suit, being controlled by JARVIS, followed right behind. As they exited the shack, he saw the jet parked close by, a dark shadow in the gloom.

Tony had already slipped into the passenger seat and Buck wasted no time in getting into the car as well. “So, did I just meet Captain America and the Black Widow, or did I imagine that?”

“No,” Tony huffed a laugh, “you didn’t.”

Buck nodded as he started his car. “And did you just make those same people think we were about to have sex?”

Tony smirked and Buck laughed as he shifted the car into drive and headed back toward the city. “You’re terrible.”

“I try my best,” Tony quipped back.-

[griimreaping]

@boundedbygrief    --   ❤’d for a starter

HIGH IN THE SKY, a silver dollar sun feebly attempts to cut through the chilly late February fog that suffocatingly blanketed Hope County. It offers little warmth to the woman who smokes quietly out on the creaking front porch, standing as a sentry with her steaming mug of coffee clutched in her free hand. Emerald eyes ringed by exhausted dark circles dutifully focus through the swirling grey fog, gaze narrowing just as Jean notices the first of the two white trucks that trundled down the quarter-mile of gravel driveway that lead up to the modest ranch-style farmhouse.

Hadn’t been the first time. More than likely wouldn’t be the last.

The Project At Eden’s Gate grew like damn cancer in the valley, swallowing it up whole and leaving the place like a husk. Blowing out the lungful of smoke like she’s dispelling a ghost, Jean flicks the butt in a brass bucket that sat beside a wooden rocking chair. Turning on her heel, the woman disappears back into her home just as her grandfather hobbles stiffly out of the kitchen, grumbling about his old bones. A gnarled hand crooked from arthritis coming up to scratch at the iron wool beard over his jaw. It’s when the old man catches the look on her face that he pauses, those storm grey eyes darkening.

Keys snatched off the squat wooden armoire and getting tossed to Jean; the woman crosses the living room, barely hearing the groans and creaks from the wood floors. Opening the gun safe without a sound, the heavy door swung open on well-oiled hinges to expose the small arsenal within. Though it’s nothing compared to the bunker out back, which is the reason those damned Peggies were here in the first place.

The weight of the weapon tucked into Jean��s waistband is a minor comfort as feverish anxiety bubbles up within her chest like tar. Feeling the presence of eyes on her from behind the sheer curtains that bracketed the living room window, Jean doesn’t need to look back to know that both her grandfather and brother were standing there observing how this situation would play. Each of the two men letting the more diplomatic one in the family ( to say the one with the longer fuse on her temper ) takes the reigns first.

As the first car crunches to a stop in the wide drive, Jean finds herself nervously picking at a flaking piece of white paint on the banister that runs the lengths of the porch. Feigned casualness wouldn’t hide the bristle along the woman’s back at the snakes that slither their ways out of the trucks to stand before her home. Then she sees him, the baby brother of the seed family John.

❛To what do I owe the company? You all come for some breakfast and another polite rejection to wanting a cut of our supplies? Because at this point, my politeness is getting a worn thin, and I’d hate to be mean to the baby of the family.❜                       Tone kept casual, and even Jean even throws in the smallest of smiles to keep things friendly. There were no friends here. To punctuate the iciness in the gazes that judge her, Jean feels the cold fingers of a late winter breeze spider up her back. Felt like the moments before the OK corral.

[maandags]

Thank you for answering. Ok, first part (this is set before the disbanding of the group): What will it be like to be to be one of Lotor’s generals and the youngest (around Pidge’s age). Being a half-galra saved from imprisonment, they’re the hacker of the group to return the favor. Morals are in the grey area, doing what’s best for the group. Kinda have a rivalry with Pidge for her hacking skills along with having a crush on her.

Part 2: During the betrayal of Lotor, Reader reluctantly leave the group due to not wanting to be involved and goes into hiding. Later reunite with Lotor as a hacker for the coalition and meet Pidge personally without having to fight each other. Slow burn on regaining and gaining trust. Perhaps after protecting Pidge from a mission gone dicey, they slowly grew closer?

~~~

Hey! I’m sorry it took a while for me to get to your request, I haven’t been very active lately ack :/ i’m working on it, I promise :) Here you go! (this was really specific, and i realise that it’s not exactly what you asked for–but i still hope you like it :) )

~Water

—-

“Y/N, report to the bridge. Lotor wants to see us.” Acxa’s voice startled you back to reality and you jumped, blinking a few times to shake the grogginess from your mind. Sitting with your laptop on your lap, the screen only inches from your face, and dicking around with the ship’s system (and improving it–you didn’t want any unwanted visitors) was one of your favourite pastimes, but duty called, and you had a debt to pay off.

You uncurled from your position on the sofa and darted out of your room, snapping your laptop shut and pulling up your hood, slipping on your armour plates as you briskly walked over to the bridge.

Ezor, Acxa, Zethrid and Narti were already there when you took your place, and Lotor gave you a small nod and a cold smile. “Thank you for joining us, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms, waiting for orders. Lotor usually left you alone to basically do what you want, only calling upon your presence for missions or when you’re needed elsewhere–though you knew he didn’t like sending you on a mission he had no control over. You didn’t mind very much. You did what you were told.

“Today, we’re receiving some special guests,” Lotor began, threading his fingers together and leaning back in his seat, a glint in his eye you haven’t seen much before.

Beside you, Zethrid groaned. “Not those Voltron folks, right?”

Lotor shot her a glare over his shoulder as he got up from his chair and paced in front of his generals. “Good guess, Zethrid. Princess Allura and I have… things to work on, and I’m sure the Paladins would enjoy having a look around the ship. After all, we’re allies now.”

You perked up, standing up a bit straighter. The Paladins of Voltron were coming here. They were coming here.

“Uh, Lotor?” Ezor piped up, “do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, we haven’t exactly been the kindest to the Paladins. There’s no way we’ll get them to trust us.” When Lotor didn’t respond, she clarified, “We tried to kill them? Multiple times?”

“Well, then this is our chance to earn their trust, isn’t it?” Lotor said. “This is the perfect opportunity to show them that we have their best interests at heart.”

Up till now, you had wisely kept your mouth shut. You didn’t really know what to say. Keeping your eyes down and your shoulders bunched up, you listened intently to the conversation happening around you. Melting into the shadows–making people forget you were even there–had always been something you were good at.

When Lotor dismissed his generals, and you turned around to swiftly disappear into your room again, Lotor raised his voice slightly and said, “Y/N. A word, please?”

Ezor coughed under her breath, trying and failing to mask her giggle. “Good luck,” she murmured as she passed you, giving your side a squeeze. You merely shook your head at her. Drama queen.

Walking up to stand beside Lotor as he stared out of the window, you clasped your hands behind your back and waited, curiosity slowly building in your mind. After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N, I have a request.” He took a step back, facing you. “I would like you to keep aside when the Paladins are here, maybe… keep tabs on them. Their activities. Their conversations.”

“I thought we were supposed to earn their trust, or whatever? You want me to spy on them?” you said, an eyebrow raised. “If I get caught, we’re screwed.”

“Then make damn sure you don’t get caught,” Lotor said with a matter-of-fact tone, inclining his head towards you. “Maybe don’t show yourself at all. They might ask questions if they see you once, and then not anymore for the rest of the day… but they won’t miss you if they never even know you’re here.”

The comment stung more than it should have. It was what you’re good at, what Lotor had plucked you out of prison for: you were good with computers, good at getting the information you wanted and good at disappearing. The perfect spy. But Lotor was the reason you were free again, and you owed him. Besides, a little spying wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

“Sure,” you muttered. “No problem.”

Holed up in your room, you curled up in a blanket and start up your laptop, connecting it to the numerous screens littering one of the walls. You had exactly fifty-six cameras to keep an eye on, and you crack your shoulders as you tear open a bag of snacks. You were going to be here a while.

The paladins had arrived. The Princess, Allura, had soon after her arrival disappeared with Lotor doing Lions-know-what. You were tempted to sneak into a camera and watch for a while what they were up to–but refrained from doing so, as Lotor would probably murder you if he found out.

You casually switched between cameras with rhythmic taps of your middle finger, munching on your snacks. A sigh made its way past your lips. Of course Ezor and Acxa got to have all the fun, you thought bitterly as you zoomed in on their faces and watched them shoot at a mannequin wearing a dress made out of scrap metal for a while, before switching back to another camera. So far, nothing suspicious.

After about thirty minutes, you finally got something worth watching. You perked up, narrowing your eyes. Pressing a button, you moved the scene to the middle, bigger screen. The blue, yellow and green Paladins were sitting on the floor of a room, a deactivated sentry connected to a laptop by what looked like at least twenty wires. The Green Paladin sat in front of the laptop, fingers tapping away at the keyboard with a speed that impressed even you.

The green one. The hacker. Your rival, as Ezor had sweetly put it with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. You were surprised that you still remembered her name, even though you’d only heard it a couple of times–Pidge. You zoomed in on her face, studying the concentrated frown on her face, the hunch of her shoulders and the intense glint in her eyes. You were so lost in your observation that, at first, you didn’t even realise what she was doing.

But when you did, you laughed and sat back, feeling, despite herself, impressed. Reprogramming a sentry–especially when you hadn’t done it before–wasn’t easy. You moved the frame to the tech and the wiring, sweeping a critical eye over everything. The laptop, along with some of the pieces of technology you hadn’t seen before, seemed to be handmade. You didn’t know of a place selling that kind of stuff. Your admiration for Pidge grew by the second. But she was in your territory, and without knowing it she’d just given you free access to her computer.

Getting past the security Pidge had set up in her laptop unseen was the hardest part, and it took a solid twenty minutes of struggling for you to finally figure it out. You couldn’t help the burst of pride swelling in your chest when you heard the telltale ping that announced success. As you scrolled through the files stored in her memory, leaving alone the ones that looked too confidential but poking your nose in the ones that looked relatively harmless, you counted in your mind the minutes until she would figure out you were there.

It turned out to take Pidge nine minutes before she narrowed her eyes at her screen and tapped a few keys. Then her expression morphed into one of bewilderment and she barked a surprised laugh. “How the hell–”

You activated the webcam, filling the screen in front of you with Pidge’s baffled face and resting your chin in your hand. Pidge opened her mouth. “How did you–” But you cut her off with a wink and a mock salute, grinning as you deactivated the webcam and left Pidge’s computer, leaving her utterly speechless and typing frantically on her keyboard, trying to lock you in, but it was too late, and you were already safely out of her systems and popping another snack in your mouth.

The rest of the day, you pretended not to notice how you spent more time on Pidge’s screen than anyone else’s.

–

That had been months ago. It still stung to think about the way Lotor betrayed you and the rest of his generals, the team he was supposed to trust above everyone else. The team that would risk their lives for him. After what his father had put him through, you had never thought that Lotor would pull something like this.

You had spent a few months on your own, getting your supplies from the Galra ships you encountered before you managed to get your hands on a small pod of your own. Eventually, you’d mustered up the courage to join a group of rebels. They had been suspicious of you at first, and you hadn’t expected anything else–you were part Galra, and even though you didn’t look Galra you were well-known as one of Lotor’s former generals, but they had accepted you as one of their own over time. Your hacking skills definitely came in handy, as did your knowledge of Galra ships and technology. Quite a few missions would have taken months longer if you hadn’t been there.

You pulled the shawl over your face and tapped the ceiling plate you were laying against, shoving it aside and letting yourself drop into the room below, tucking into a roll and coming up standing before you were sprinting towards the small figure hunched over the monitor and frantically typing away at the keyboards. When you laid a hand on her shoulder, Pidge whirled around and took a swing at you with her bayard, that you only just managed to avoid, jumping back with a yelp. She swung at you again, but you grabbed her wrist and yanked off the piece of cloth covering your face.

“Pidge! Calm down, it’s me!” you screamed, blocking her next punch. Pidge’s eyes widened. “Y/N? What happened to you?” She reached out for the fresh scar that carved through your left eyebrow all the way to your jaw.

You shook your head, flinching at the sound of alarms blaring and shots firing from what seemed like all around you. There wasn’t any time. Digging in your pocket, your fingers found what they were looking for and closed around the little drive, shoving it into Pidge’s hands. She looked at it, then looked at you, panic clear on her features.

“You can’t get past the firewall, right? Plug that in. It’ll destroy the security systems.”

Pidge’s fingers closed around the drive until her knuckles turned white. “How do you know it’ll work?”

You yanked your gun from its holster. “Because I built the firewall.” You took your spot as lookout in the doorway, shooting sentries and Galra soldiers alike and giving Pidge the time she needed to plug in the drive and get the information she needed. Setting your jaw, you started taking out more and more soldiers: at this point, they’d realised that there was something going on in the control room, and soon they were coming in waves.

“Look, Pidge, no pressure or anything, but could you hurry up?” you yelled through gritted teeth.

“Working on it,” she shouted back, her fingers moving over the keyboard at a lightning-fast speed. So you turned around and kept fighting, determined to protect Pidge. And then your gun stopped working, and you yelped when a blaster grazed your arm, white-hot pain searing through your entire right side. Shaking out your arm, you chucked your gun to the side and grabbed your staff, pressing a button to light the ends up with crackling electricity.

As you fought, the sole thought in your head was that you needed to protect Pidge. She needed to have the time to get the information she wanted, and she needed to make it out alive. Preferably unharmed. But you wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever: your arms were already aching, your strikes came slower, your footwork got sloppy, your breathing heavier. But Pidge needed to make it out alive.

And then she was there, fighting by your side,  her bayard in her hand and the other grabbing your arm and pulling you through the corridors, shouting in her comms about an unexpected guest. You couldn’t resist a grin. Falling into step next to her, the two of you sprinted through the corridors and made your way to Pidge’s Lion.

As soon as you set foot into the Green Lion, you collapsed. Breathing heavily, you leaned your head against the wall and stretched out your legs, rolling your right shoulder to get some feeling back into your arm. Pidge immediately crashed into her seat, grabbing the steering handles and flying the lion into open space, slapping a button on her dashboard that popped up the Black paladin’s face onto her screen. While they talked and exchanged information, you zoned out and wrapped a hand around the wound in your shoulder. Now that the adrenaline of the fight had left your body, the pain increased by the minute, a burning sensation spreading from your shoulder to the tips of your fingers.

“Is-is that–” you heard the Black Paladin’s voice ask. You cracked open one eye and raised your good arm, giving a weak wave to signal your presence. Pidge whipped around.

“Oh, god, Y/N–I’d forgotten you were here. I’m so sorry.” She scrambled over to where you were sitting and crouched next to you.

“’S okay. Don’t sweat it,” you muttered. “You got what you needed?” You sure hoped so, and heaved a relieved sigh when Pidge nodded. Would have been a shame if you’d got yourself shot for nothing.

“But–Y/N, why are you even here?” Pidge flinched as soon as the words left her mouth. “I meant–I’m glad you’re here, I just–how did you know we were here?”

“Been working with a couple of rebel groups,” you said. “They said you would be doing that mission to get intel, but I knew you’d never get past the firewall in time. The mission would fail, and you might get yourself in serious trouble.”

When Pidge rolled her eyes, they shone with a twinkle you recognised as the one you’d grown so fond of. “I would have gotten past it. In time.”

You laughed, grabbing Pidge’s hand and pressing a sloppy kiss to her knuckles. You blame the sudden bravery on blood loss. “I know.”

[savetheblackpaladin]

are requests open? if they are can i get some really angsty keith? like reader gets hurt and gets really close to death and keith starts to blame himself. but then reader tries to convince him it wasn't. thank youuuuuu! xx

Unf yes, angst, I love it also i like making Keith cry

Also for those who are queasy there’s a scene in which a sword is put in a place it definitely should not be. It’s not particularly detailed but still I put little **** at the beginning and the end. Just know you got stabbed.

“Keith! Kei–Shiro said to stay together!” You yelled into the empty hallway but heard no response outside of the usual sounds of battle around the corner. You cursed and wiped the sweat from your forehead, exasperated at Keith’s recklessness and exhausted from fighting enemy after enemy. If it weren’t for how badly you needed intel you’d have said ‘fuck it’ and left two hallways ago.

But when the Blades said jump into hyperspace and infiltrate this cruiser for the shipping routes Keith didn’t even hesitate long enough to form a proper plan. You had just barely managed to catch him in the process of leaving and demanded to go with because there was no way he was going to go alone. 

And much to his chagrin, you managed to get a message to Shiro that resulted in a terrible lecture the entire way to the target. But you’d be glad for the back up when Shiro and the rest of the team eventually caught up because this ship was BIG. Big enough that even you tore into Keith about the stupidity of his decision to go alone. Now he was surly and frustrated, charging ahead at his enemies (after he tripped an alarm you tried to warn him about but noooooo, he wasn’t listening!) and throwing himself into dangerous situation after situation without any regard to his life or yours.

Well….that’s not entirely true. He made sure everyone he encountered was definitely dead before moving on and kept looking back to make sure you were okay. So fine, he was making sure you were safe but the distance he kept between you two made it dangerous for him. How were you supposed to be his back up when he didn’t even wait for his back up?

You cursed again and jogged to catch up to your boyfriend before he got far ahead. Two turns and Keith was in sight, struggling to pull is sword from a downed sentry, his face scrunched up in frustration as he tried to kick it off. You smiled at his cute expression and decided to tease him, “Need some help there Samur–”

You froze, your words caught in your throat by the sudden burst of thick sticky copper on your tongue. You coughed into your hand, confused by the sudden appearance of blood, “Wha-???”

You looked past your hand…

****

Suddenly you felt and watched as a sword, a sword that was stained with the blood of your chest and bits of broken armor, slid back inside and out as smooth as warm butter. Smoother than any sword had a right too.

And you just stood there…gazing stupidly at the whole in your chest. Your breath coming in short gurgling gasps. The shock was setting in and all of a sudden you were on your knees, your sluggish brain trying to piece together what happened but the pain…everything hurt so much…to breathe, to think, to catch yourself before you hit the ground…and Keith…

****

…you could hear his voice…he sounded sad…sadder than you’ve ever heard…that wasn’t right no no no, Keith deserved to be happy??? Why was he crying???? You were going to be okay! It didn’t even hurt anymore! Couldn’t he see that? Couldn’t….couldn’t……oh, oh no….

…it was…

…was getting harder…..hard…er

…harder to….to…..breathe……

“Keith??? I-I think I’m hurt??”

“IT WAS MY FAULT SHIRO!”, Keith’s throat burned with the force of his shouting but he couldn’t stop. “I…I LEFT THEM BEHIND! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN RIGHT THERE! I SHOULD HAVE SEEN THAT SENTRY! I SHOULDN’T…!!” 

He paused, a sob wracking his body as he wrapped his arms around himself. He felt rather than saw Shiro wrap him in a tight hug. He couldn’t stop the tears, the snot, the gross way his eyes puffed up the moment he cried. “I shouldn’t have gone…then Y/N would’t have…”

Shiro shushed him, running his metal hand through Keith’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. He didn’t know what to say; a major part of him wanted to agree, it was Keith’s fault that you were currently comatose and near death. But that’s not what a young man in a depressive slump needs to hear. 

“They’re going to be alright Keith. Y/N is strong, they’ll pull through this.”

“But what if they hate me! I got them hurt! Y/N is nearly dead and I–”

“Stop! Keith, just stop. Y/N loves you and they know you would never purposefully put them in danger. Accidents happen, alright?”, Shiro pulled back to force Keith to look up at him, “You can’t focus on what-if. All you can do is be there for Y/N when they wake. Got it? Look at me Keith, you need to look toward the future.”

Keith nodded numbly and wiped his face. Shiro was right. What happened happened and that was it. There was only the future. A mostly bleak future.

You awoke two weeks later, too out of it to realize that Keith was holding you up and openly crying in front of the rest of the sobbing team. You just held on to him, too weak to hold yourself up.

“Wha-? Keith?”, your voice was surprisingly weak even to your own ears, “What happened? I-I don’t rememb–!” You gasped and clutched your hands to your chest, the feeling of the sword slipping from your body coming back to you.

You couldn’t speak. You could barely breath. The shock of being stabbed in the chest, of nearly dying immobilizing you. A panic attack. You were having a panic attack.

“Shh, shh, shh, I got you baby,” Keith cooed and gently eased you to sit on the ground. “You’re okay, you’re okay. We made it. You made it.” His hands brushed your hair away from your face and gently forced you to look at him. A warm thumb brushed away a lone tear that spilled down your cheek.

“Breathe with me Y/N, I’ve got you. You’re safe. In…and out…In…and out…c’mon Y/N you can do this, In…and out…that’s it, Lovely, in…and out…” Keith continued for Ancients know how long until your breathing came back under control but still you were shaking. Whether from the panic attack, the shock of nearly dying, or the fact that it was very cold in the med bay, you didn’t know. Keith pulled you close again, one hand holding you close and the other rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Keith’s voice cracked against your ear, “I put you in danger. You were right love, I should have waited. I…You don’t deserve to be punished for my stupidity.”

You pulled back from Keith’s embrace to kiss him softly. “You idiot. You put yourself in danger too,” you whispered. Keith snorted and kissed you again, longer this time, cherishing the fact that you were still here with him.

[calligraphist-artemisia]

I’ll Take Her Place (Chapter 15)

Summary:  AU. When Allura breaks the news that she is to wed Prince Lotor in order to continue the peaceful relationship between Altea and Daibazaal, Pidge knows that she has to do something to change that. And so, with a little help, she comes up with a new plan. A better plan

Pairings: Keith/Pidge (main) ; Shiro/Allura (minor), Hunk/Lance (minor) ; Lotor/Allura (one-sided)

Chapter 1 - Previous - Masterpost

Also posted on AO3 and fanfiction.net

Chapter 15

It felt strange to put on different armor and not only because it was slightly too big for her. (A fact that had Keith trying not to laugh when he first saw her in it.) She kept looking down, expecting to see familiar white and green, which made the all black a little jarring.

“Relax,” Keith said as he eased their borrowed ship into the docking area of the refueling station. The small craft would barely register to the station's sensors and was unlikely to attract any unwanted attention. “Just follow my lead. We'll be in and out without anyone knowing we were here.”

The ship shuddered as it set down and Keith shut it off with a few practiced movements. He led the way off of the ship, pausing to check for any guards before disembarking.

“Mask on,” he reminded her, activating his own.

Pidge triggered hers, just as he had shown her before they left, and then they were on their way, quietly traversing the empty passageways and cautiously peering around corners. Above all else, they could not get caught. It would mean trouble if they were spotting or if someone even suspected there was something amiss.

She followed him through the halls, marveling at how well he knew the layout of the station. She wondered if Kolivan had the Blade run simulations set up like various stations or ships as part of their training, just as Allura had done for the paladins. (Actually, it had been a while since their last one. They were probably overdue for another one.)

They communicated solely with hand gestures and head nods, neither daring to speak until they were safely in one of the sub-security rooms with the door firmly shut behind them.

“We'll have to do this quickly,” Keith said as he accessed one system monitors. “Those gloves will let you use Galra tech. Find what you need while I try and keep the sentries from finding us. Their automated patrols have them check in on all security spaces twice a varga, but I should be able to keep them away for a while, depending on where they are in their patrol.”

Pidge got right into it. Later on, once they weren't secretly aboard a Galra station, she'd be able to ask more about the uniform's capabilities. Maybe she could program something similar for the paladins. (Or would that be crossing a line?) No, for the moment she needed to focus. With luck, she'd be able to access the cameras on the outside of the station and find the footage she needed in the time they had left.

“How long do we have?” Pidge asked.

“Fifteen doboshes, at least,” Keith murmured.

That wasn't enough time. Not to find and make a copy of what she was looking for. If there was anything to find.

Minutes passed quickly as she frantically searched, her fingers flying over the keys. She could hear Keith mumbling to himself as he rerouted sentries and drones to avoid their location.

Ten doboshes left.

Pidge found the feeds she was looking for and rewound to the time period they needed, fast-forwarding through them and unblinkingly watching the screen in front of her.

Five doboshes to go.

Someone was bound to get suspicious about the delayed patrols, but she was so close. She could feel it.

Four.

A burst of color flashed across the screen, captured three vargas before the alarm sounded. She latched onto that, praying it was what they were there for.

Rewind.

Slow down.

Replay.

A ship in blue and orange moved across the screen, flying in the exact direction of the Altean communication satellite. She paused the video, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

“Keith, look!”

He turned his head in her direction and froze. “That's Lotor's ship!”

Pidge wondered if she should be more surprised by that. Instead, all she felt was confusion. “But why would be attack an Altean satellite when he's so determined to marry Allura? It doesn't make sense!”

“I don't know either,” Keith said.

Around them, the lights flickered red as an intruder alert sounded, locking them out of the system. The pair fled the room without a single word, automatically racing for the dock where they'd left their ship. As before, Keith took the lead.

They careened around a corner and found themselves face-to-face with one of the automated sentries.

“Halt and state your identification!”

Keith rammed into it with his shoulder, refusing to slow down and risk them getting caught. The robot crashed against the wall, barely damaged and momentarily stunned. “Keep going!” he shouted at Pidge.

She hardly needed to be told. The whole point of sneaking aboard had been to avoid getting spotted and yet there they were, fleeing to avoid being apprehended.

Shiro was not going to be happy with her once they got back.

They had no more opposition until they reached the dock, where they were greeted by three sentries and a guard.

“Get to the ship! I'll hold them off!”

“Are you crazy?! I'm not leaving you!” Pidge snapped.

“One of us has to get back to the others and tell them what we found,” Keith reminded her as he drew his blade. “I'll try to catch up, but neither of us will get to the shuttle with the guards here. Now go!”

Pidge wanted to growl, to argue with him until she was out of breath, and then drag him along with her for being so foolish. She was not going to leave him there. It went against everything she stood for as a paladin – as a person. So she would go along with some of what he was telling her to do, but there was no way she was going to leave him.

“Fine!” she shouted, running for the ship and leaving him to provide a good distraction. She could hear the guard's alarmed shouts as Keith began his assault, but ignored that as she hopped into their ship and made for the cockpit. She quickly set up the autopilot to take them back to the Castle of Lions and knew it was working by the hum of the ship as the prepared for take-off.

Pidge darted back to the door, more glad than ever that her paranoia meant she'd brought her bayard with her. “It's time to go!”

Keith kicked away a sentry and blocked a strike from the guard. “Just leave without me!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, took aim, and fired her bayard, watching in satisfaction as it wrapped around his middle and caught firmly. She had a split second to enjoy the startled squeak he let out before she braced herself against the frame of the door and yanked back, retracting the rope at the same time.

Keith flew towards her and Pidge realized a little too late that his trajectory had him landing directly on top of her. Luckily, he had to foresight to let go of his knife before then, letting it clatter harmlessly across the floor of the shuttle as the door shut and their ship took off.

Pidge shut her eyes, bracing herself for his full weight on top of her as they hit the ground, but it never came. His mask must have fallen away as they collided, because when she opened her eyes, she found Keith's face mere inches from her own, close enough that she could see the flecks of blue in his wide violet eyes. His arms were taut on either side of her as he held himself up from crushing her.

Pidge cleared her throat when he didn't move. “Uh, Keith?”

A definite red hue covered Keith's face as he realized the position they were in. He quickly sat up and backed away, avoiding looking in her direction for a few solid minutes.

Pidge brushed it off as embarrassment over being so easily yanked out of his fight. She got up and deactivated her own mask as she made her way back to the cockpit and sat down. Her eyes were drawn to a blinking light on the dashboard - a reminder that they'd shut off not only the ship's tracking, but all communications as well.

Pidge hesitated and then opened the frequency.

The radio crackled for a moment and then Shiro's voice came through, mildly panicked. “Pidge, is that you? Can you hear me?”

“I hear you, Shiro,” she responded. “Is everything alright?”

“Alright? Alright?!”

Oh boy, Lance was there too. Pidge winced as her friend's voice made the speakers squeal.

“You sneak off, turn off your tracking, and you're going to ask – ow, Hunk! Cut it out! I'm trying to talk to Pidge!”

“I don't think yelling at her is going to help anything,” Hunk said, his voice muffled.

“Can we please not do this right now?” Allura's voice came through next. “Pidge, are you and Prince Keithir on your way back?”

Behind Pidge, Keith went very still.

Pidge frowned. “I've got Keith with me, not Keithir. Wait, he's not missing too, is he?” she asked, a whole new worry coming to the surface.

What if Lotor's plan had been to get them away from Altea so he'd have better access to Keithir? What if the attack on the satellite was just a distraction? Maybe the cameras had been tampered with to make sure they'd go off on some wild goose chase? What if –

“No, Keithir is fine,” Shiro said. “She just misspoke. We'll meet you both back at the Castle.”

“But Shi-!”

The message cut out before Allura could continue, leaving Pidge and Keith in silence.

Grounded.

He was grounded from further investigation. It didn't matter that they'd found the probably answer to the attack, he and Katie had jeopardized the entire mission when they were spotted on the fueling station. If Lotor found out they suspected him, he would ensure there was no way his treachery would be discovered.

If there was only one thing Keithir was absolutely sure of when it came to his brother, it was that there was no cost too great when it came to attaining his goal.

Keithir wanted to scream.

He wanted to punch something. To let loose for once with no one around to tell him to calm down or to remind him of his princely responsibilities.

Kolivan knew how important stopping Lotor was to him. All of the Blade did!

It was the worst punishment Kolivan could have come up with.

Pidge was grounded from the mission as well. The sheer disappointment on Shiro's face when he took her aside to quietly talk told Keithir all he needed to know. (He could have lived without knowing the feeling of disappointing Shiro. It made him feel even more awful than he expected it would.)

Everyone else was back on the satellite for a second day, leaving Keithir to wander the Castle of Lions in pursuit of something to do. As further punishment, Thace had taken his key card for the training deck, leaving him with little else.

“Ah, Prince Keithir, there you are!”

Keithir's ears twitched in the direction of the voice and he stopped and looked back to see King Alfor's personal adviser, Coran, walking toward him with Katie by his side. Coran looked nothing short of pleased to see him.

“I heard the two of you were removed from the investigation, so I thought you would mind lending me a hand instead! Of course, if there's something more important you need to do, I completely understand,” Coran said.

“Just so you know, I haven't found anything he would consider 'something more important to do',” Katie informed him.

Coran made a tutting sound. “Well that's because you can tinker anytime. Getting outside will do you some good. So what do you say, Prince Keithir? Care to join us?”

“What do you need help with?” Keithir asked, not wanting to agree to anything without knowing what he was getting himself into. Years of friendship with Regris had taught him that was never a good idea.

“An excellent question! We're off to the open market on the third moon of Nyrydya! You see, Queen Alanna is quite fond of the dyangan fruit that is native there, so King Alfor has tasked me with retrieving some for her,” Coran explained.

A venture outside, even if it was for shopping, sounded better than anything he had available in the Castle. Besides, maybe he would be able to find something about Lotor or his ship while they were there. There were few better places to gather intelligence.

“I'd love to join you,” Keithir said.

Katie raised an eyebrow, looking at him with pure bewilderment, unable to understand why he would willingly agree to a trip out with them. Coran, on the other hand, looked delighted.

Keithir hoped it wouldn't be a decision he'd come to regret.

The open market was a colorful, bustling place filled with people from all over and the heavy aroma of delicious food. Coran kept Keithir and Katie within sight at first, but soon left them alone to wander freely around the market, trusting them to stay out of trouble. The pair stuck together as they checked out what the vendors' had for sale.

“So what's the real reason you came with us?” Katie asked as she browsed through a selection of gorgeous scarves. She lingered on one made of a silk-like pink material, which delicately flowed over her hands when she picked it up for closer inspection.

“Intel,” Keithir said truthfully, keeping his voice low. “Someone here could have seen Lotor or his ship in the area. Maybe they'll know a little bit more than us.”

“It is possible... If there's anyone here who's heard anything, it would be one of the Unalu. There's usually one or two of them around a place like this,” Katie said. She smiled at the vendor and held up the pink scarf, quickly striking up a good bargain with him. It was soon wrapped and she happily deposited it in her bag. “It's for Allura. While I'm here, I want to pick up gifts for everyone,” she explained without prompting.

Keithir followed her to the next stall, his mind still on his determination to hunt for answers. “The Unalu are difficult to deal with. They would be just as likely to sell me out as they would be to tell me what I need to know.”

“You may have a point...” Katie admitted.

The next stall they stopped at had an array of small, bejeweled daggers. A set glittering with green crystals caught Katie's eye and she took a moment to look at them before turning away, murmuring something inaudible to herself.

As she moved on, Keithir examined them for himself, taking note of the craftsmanship and mentally debated whether they were actually worth the price. Feeling someone's eyes on him, he glanced back at Katie, who was distracted by a collection of floating orbs which glinted in the light of the system's two dwarf suns. Keithir frowned, unable to shake the feeling of being watched, but pushed it aside for the moment.

He joined her a few minutes later, carefully hiding his purchase so she wouldn't see. Katie was wrapping up negotiations of her own with a smile on her face.

“That's two more down!” she told him, patting her bag. She looked around to make sure Coran was still nearby and spotted him talking to one of the elders as she loaded up a basket with fruit. “We probably don't have much more time. Coran will want to get those back to the Castle as soon as he can.”

“Who else are you shopping for? Maybe I can help,” Keithir offered. The fur on the back of his neck raised as the feeling of being watched intensified. His ears twitched, trying to pick out any unusual sounds as he scanned the marketplace for the source of his unease.

His heart sank when he found it.

Regris, leaning casually against a pillar, eating some sort of meat on a stick and staring directly at him.

So much for his plan to gather intel while he was there. He wouldn't get away with anything while his fellow Blade was right there to report back to Kolivan.

“If you really want to ask anyone about that ship, we should prioritize that instead. It's more important than my shopping,” Katie said. “There has to be an Unalu around here who we can talk to.”

If Regris weren't there, Keithir would have been tempted to go along with her idea. It didn't matter that he couldn't handle dealings with the Unalu. It wasn't a moral thing, but more of a matter of just how bad he was at keeping his personal feelings in check. Thace had tried to teach him how to better mask himself over the years, but it was one of the few lessons he continued to fail time and time again. (Honestly, it was nothing short of a miracle that Katie hadn't figured him out yet.)

“I'll keep an eye out as you shop,” he said, hoping she'd buy his tiny lie.

Katie looked at him for a moment, her brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I know how important this is to you.”

“I...” Keithir paused, unsure of what he wanted to say. “Kolivan... isn't happy with me at the moment. If he found out that I went behind his back after he specifically told me to stay out of it, he'd probably send me back to Daibazaal.”

Katie took another look around and quickly saw what had Keithir so hesitant to continue with his plans. “Is that Regris?”

Keithir nodded.

“I guess it can't be helped then...” Disappointment seeped through Katie's voice. “Well, I think I see what I'm getting Lance.”

Keithir kept an eye out for any other members of the Blade as he followed Katie around the marketplace, helping her pick out a variety of facial products for Lance and several small boxes of unusual candies for Hunk.

“I just have Shiro left now,” Katie said as they circled back past the stalls displaying clothing from all different parts of the universe. She had stopped earlier to look at a shirt for herself, but decided to pass on it in the end.

For a second time, Keithir found himself drawn to a red-and-white jacket made of a heavier material than he was used to.

“Huh, it kind of reminds me of Earth fashion,” Katie said when she doubled back to find him. “Do you like it?”

“Thace would say it isn't suitable for a prince,” Keithir said, regretfully turning away from it. “What next? Is there anything specific you had in mind for Shiro?”

“There are a few tapestries I found up ahead that he might like. We've been trying to get him to personalize his room more, so something like that might be perfect,” Katie said. “Why don't you go ahead. I, uh, want to look at that shirt again.”

Keithir hesitated. “I don't really know what he'd like.”

Katie had already disappeared behind the racks of clothing. “Ask for anything that references Voltron or the Lions!”

Keithir stood there for a moment longer, cast one last look at the jacket, and then moved on to do as she requested. It could be fun, trying to pick something Shiro would like. Maybe he'd find something for his own room – something Thace and Ulaz would enjoy as well.

It wasn't difficult to find the place she was talking about and Keithir spent several minutes looking at the tapestries by himself, marveling over the beautiful patterns. He didn't know much about weaving, but to him it didn't look like there was a single thread out of place.

“Do you like it?”

Keithir did an undignified shuffle, tamping down his natural response to draw his blade. Standing to his left was a woman whom he at first mistook as being Altean, but quickly realized he was very wrong. The markings on her face weren't the familiar crescents, but jewel-like amethyst scales which also covered the sides of her neck and the parts of her forehead not obscured by hair. Her eyes were that exact same color – unnervingly bright.

“Sorry, I just, uh?”

“Was looking?” she prompted, sounding amused. There was a strange accent to her voice that he struggled to place. “We are flattered that you are viewing our work, Prince Keithir, but I doubt it is a suitable gift for your betrothed.”

“It's not. It's... wait, how do you know about us?” Keithir asked, narrowing his eyes.

The woman smiled. “There is little she does not see.”

Keithir subtly took a step back, starting to wonder if he should go back and tell Katie they should try something else. There was something very weird going on. Even more unsettling, he couldn't sense a drop of malice from the strange woman.

“Perhaps she could even help with your... familial issue.”

Yup. Keithir was done. He was getting Katie, finding Coran, and getting the quiznak out of the marketplace and back to the ship. He'd make it up to Shiro later.

“Keithir, did you find anything?” Katie asked as she walked up and joined them.

Amethyst eyes turned to her instead. “I believe she is ready to see you both now. Please, follow me.” Without waiting for a response, she walked towards the tent in the center of the hanging tapestries and tables, and held open one flap so they could enter.

Keithir caught Katie by the arm as she made to follow. “We're not going in there.”

Katie blinked up at him curiously. “Why not? T'maa wants to introduce us to the one making the tapestries. I asked her before I sent you over if they have anything about Voltron, but we have to meet to weaver first.”

“Wait, so...” Keithir scowled at the strange woman, who looked very amused as she watched him piece everything together.

“She's an Akalak. They like to play jokes and scare people to see how they react,” Katie said in undertone. “As long as we don't  do anything to insult her, we'll be fine.”

“Come,” T'maa beckoned again.

Katie slid her hand into Keithir's, her tiny fingers curling around his. She didn't let go even once they were inside and neither did he.

T'maa left them alone, vanishing behind another set of curtains to speak to someone in a low voice. After a few minutes, the curtain shifted again and a new figure stepped into the room, focusing unblinking silver-white eyes on them.

“The Prince and the Paladin,” she greeted, her voice warm. “I was hoping I would get the opportunity to meet the two of you. T'maa says you are interested in my work?”

“Yes. They're very beautiful,” Katie complimented.

“I am pleased that you think so. T'maa has gone to fetch a few you may have interest in. She will not be but a moment. Perhaps in the meantime, you would permit me to do a Reading for you. I feel both of you have many questions that I may be able to provide the answers to.”

“Sorry, but who are you?” Keithir asked.

“I am Isa.”

Keithir could feel his frustration building. Were there any Akalaks willing to give a straight answer instead of being enigmatic? A name was hardly of any help.

Even Katie looked confused, though not for the same reason. “What do you mean by a reading?”

“I was not born of the planet Akala, but somewhere quite different. My people were gifted with an unusual Sight many eons ago and we prefer to stay hidden. Though things are not always so clear to us, there are those who would use our knowledge of future events to do great evil in this universe,” Isa explained. “And even those who do not intend on doing so, can be led down a dark path when they know too much. What I offer to you is guidance. You search for your father and brother, do you not?”

Katie drew in a sharp breath. “How do you...?”

“I See a great loss around you, but also hope. You are on the right path, Green Paladin. There are more than you know aiding in your search and I believe the reunion you seek is approaching quickly. Do not give up.”

A shiver ran down Keithir's spine as Isa's gaze shifted to him instead.

“Your future is... difficult for me to See. There is something very important that has been hidden from you. Something stemming from the quarrel between you and your brother. Though perhaps quarrel is not the best word... A darkness is there. A rift between you that brings great pain.” Isa paused, tilting her head and blinking at long last. “There is more. But... I am unsure. May I have your hand? It would permit me to better See.”

Keithir stared at her outstretched hand. While she still unnerved him, there was something that made him want to trust her. His curiosity to hear what else she had to say had him reaching out and lightly placing his hand over hers, while still holding onto Katie with the other.

“Well now...” Isa breathed in pleasant surprise. “Should I? No, perhaps that is best left untold. Thank you, Prince Keither. You have given me more hope for the future than you know.”

“What did you see?” Katie asked.

Isa smiled and withdrew her hand, gesturing to T'maa as she burst through the curtain with several rolled-up tapestries in her arms. The Akalak woman deposited them on a nearby table and then lifted the one on the very top, unfurling a woven depiction of Voltron, standing against a starry sky, blazing sword held aloft.

“A legend reborn.”

“You have done well, Zethrid,” Lotor said, sounding pleased. “The Paladins and the Blade of Marmora will waste days of time on this, while we get back to what is truly important without any of them breathing down our necks.”

Zethrid crossed her arms over her chest. She was unable to stop herself from smirking at the thought of the chaos she'd caused. “I was hoping for more explosions.”

Lotor chuckled. “All in due time. We must still tread carefully so long as my brother is still around. No doubt he will soon come to the conclusion that I am behind this somehow, as he always does, but without proof he has nothing.”

Acxa shifted her weight from what foot to another, earning an irate look from her prince.

“Unless there is something you have neglected to tell me, Acxa.”

She closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze as she delivered her unwanted news. “There are rumors, sir, from the Taabaher station in regards to an attempted break-in. The commander there insists they found nothing of value, but I reviewed the security feeds myself. There were two of them who got aboard. One of them carried the Green Paladin's bayard.”

Lotor gritted his teeth at the new information. He would have to rearrange his plans to accommodate her sudden interest in interfering, undoubtedly brought on by his dear brother. She was becoming more than just a little nuisance. He would have to deal with her the same way he planned on dealing with his brother.

It was the only way to achieve his goal.

NEXT

[padfootagain]

Jackets

I'm answering the request made by @hellojawsie for an imagine where Poe explains the story of his mother's ring to the reader and... a bit more...

However, I had an idea to bring the topic on the table, that came to me when I saw that gif, and I just couldn't resist :)

Warning for violence, death and mentions of torture

Hope you all like it

Gif not mine

Word Count : 3486

You crawled down the narrow space between two walls. It was dark, too dark for your eyes to distinguish any shape. Your hands were all you had to try to guide yourself through this little passage.

You didn't even know what this passage was for actually, but you were glad it existed. Without it, you would have never been able to reach such a deep place into the First Order ship without being caught.

You had to find the cells. BB-8 had assured you that you should reach the right corridor if you followed this passage. You guessed it was some kind of pipe...

Your comlink suddenly emitted a little beep, and you picked it up before whispering against the device.

"How close am I, BeeBee?" you asked the droid.

BB-8 beeped quietly, telling you to find a grid that should soon appear on your right.

You kept on crawling for a few more meters before your fingers brushed against something that was suddenly not smooth.

"I think I've got it, BeeBee," you whispered, getting closer.

You let your hands run all long the squared form, and you indeed recognized a grid.

"Is Poe behind that grid?" you asked the droid.

But what was awaiting you beyond was a corridor, not the pilot's cell.

"Where's Poe's cell?" you asked the droid.

You winced at its answer : it couldn't know in which cell the pilot was imprisoned, you had to find it by yourself.

"Great..." you mumbled, starting to pull on the grid to create a passage.

You crawled out of the pipe, struggling to make your body fit in the narrow opening.

It led right under the ground of a corridor indeed, you could hear the soldiers walking, their steps echoing above your head.

You peered outside your hiding place, right between the wall and the pipe you had used to travel across the warship. Right above you were two stormtroopers on sentry, walking back and force through the corridor. No one else seemed to be there though. Even from where you were hiding, you could see the doors of the cells aligned on both walls, the black doors barely visible as the walls around them had the exact same colour. It seemed like all the walls and all the object were of that shade in there...

You were starting to be sick of the colour black...

You waited a few more seconds, but no one joined the two troopers in the corridor.

You rested your hand onto your blaster, your finger resting upon the trigger.

You counted in your head before jumping out of this little corner you were hiding in.

Three...

You calculated how many seconds separated the troppers.

...Two...

If you waited for one of them to turn his back on you, you would have about three seconds to shoot both of them.

... One...

One of them turned around. You aimed at the one who was facing you.

..Zero.

You stood up, not waiting a second before pulling the trigger, a ray of red light coming out of your blaster instantly and hitting the stormtrooper in the chest a second later. You didn't wait for his body to hit the ground to aim at the other soldier. You bent down to avoid a blast, before firing yourself.

The stromtrooper fell down to the ground as well, blood flooding out of his white armour.

You stood up quickly, your blaster at the ready, but you were the only one alive in the corridor.

"I'm in, Beebee," you whispered in the comlink again, keeping your blaster in your hand. "Is there a way to find the right cell?"

But you didn't need to wait for the droid's answer, as you quickly spotted a door that seemed greyish instead of black.

You walked towards this door, opening it slowly, but there was no one inside. Inside were gathered the personal belongings of the prisoners, all set in little boxes. There were no names, but the number associated to each cell was clearly visible.

You just had to spot Poe's box.

You started to open all of them, searching through all the metallic boxes to find any object that could belong to the pilot. You knew you would recognize them in an instant. After all... Poe and you were... very close...

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes fell upon a shining ring. You could have recognized it anywhere...

Poe always wore it around his neck. You didn't know where it came from though, but you knew he was attached to it.

You picked up the piece of metal, putting it safely into the pocket of your white shirt, safely against your heart. You also took Poe's leather jacket and put it on. You took a second to deeply breathe in the scent the fabric had captured : a perfect balance between musk, leather, oil and sugar... it smelled like Poe... Your mind drifted back through the memories you shared with him, to that night you had spent together sitting on the wing of his X-Wing, watching the stars, right before he would leave for this mission that had led him to be taken prisoner by the First Order...

Your chest tightened at the thought of what your enemies could have done to him. Was he hurt? Could he walk? Was he even... alive?

You pushed those thoughts away. You didn't need them, you needed to keep hope that you were not too late. After all, Poe had been taken prisoner less than two days before, there was still a chance for him to be alive.

You picked up his blaster, his helmet and hurried outside the room, memorizing the number carved into the front of the box.

C-3...

You walked down the corridor in search of the right cell. Your heart was beating a bit faster at every step you took, knowing that you were getting closer to him, but terrified at the idea that you could be too late.

You read the numbers written at the top right corner of each door, in a red paint upon the dark surface.

A-5, A-7, A-9, B-1, B-3...

You hurried down the hall, certain that your heart would never hold on long enough before exploding under all this stress and fear, and your thoughts drifted away to form prayers.

...B-9, C-1...

You froze before the next door on your right.

...C-3.

You didn't have the code, nor a key, but you didn't even ask yourself the question. You shot the little command control, and the door automatically opened.

Your heart stopped. The little thing that was beating rhythmically in your chest suddenly froze, coming to a stop. You were not sure if it would start beating ever again.

A million feelings rushed through your body...

...Fear...

...Anger...

...Worry...

...Fury...

...Terror...

...Pain...

All those feelings and much more caused adrenaline to run though your veins, so much that you found yourself unable to move, your muscles paralyzed.

Poe was in there. In the dark. Cowering in a corner of the little room. Lying on the ground. His back to you. His breathing was loud and irregular, you could hear the hoarse sound from where you stood. He didn't make a single movement as the door opened. Perhaps he was asleep, or unconscious. You could hear him breathing, for sure he was not dead...

You walked into the room, at last, your muscles finally responding to the commands sent by your brain.

You knelt down next to him.

"Poe?" you called softly.

He didn't respond, so you slowly turned him onto his back.

A tear rolled down your cheek at the sight.

A deep cut across his cheek, blood running down the side of his face and starting from his forehead, a trail of dry blood staining his chin and cheek caused by a broken nose that had turned purple by now, a swollen eye... and all those signs were only those that you could see now.

You had no doubt left. He had been tortured.

"Poe," you shook him gently. "Poe, wake up."

His closed eyelids suddenly fluttered, before opening. He stared at you with unfocused, bloodshot eyes. A small smile appeared on his lips.

"I'm dead, right?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and lower than usual.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you shook your head.

"No, love. You're still with us," you breathed, running a soothing hand through his hair.

His smile widened.

"I thought I could only see you again in the afterworld now, if there is one."

"I'm here. I've come to save this reckless arse of yours," you replied, trying to admonish him, but your tears were betraying you.

"Y/N..."

But your comlink emitted strange beeps again, and when you listened to BB-8, the droid was urging you to come back to the ship.

"I'm coming Beebee, I found him."

"BB-8 is here too?" he asked.

You nodded.

"With Finn, they're making sure we can get out. We need to move, Poe."

He nodded, struggling to sit up. You helped him, accompanying him in his movements.

"Can you walk? Where are you hurt?" you asked him, your voice full of concern as he leaned against the wall and used you as a support to stand.

"I can walk, if you give me a hand," he answered, his breathing stumbling with pain.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Honestly... a bit everywhere," he answered darkly. "I have a couple of broken ribs that's for sure, probably my left wrist too."

You took your blaster, wondering if Poe would be able to move through this narrow passage you had used to come here.

"Do you think that you can crawl?" you asked him softly.

He nodded.

"Sure, I can," he replied, his voice confident.

You guided him towards the passage you had used and helped him to get inside.

"Y/N, you need to hurry," you heard Finn's voice blurting out of the comlink. "They're closing on us."

"We're coming, Finn, hold them back."

You heard him mumbling, but didn't pay much attention to him. You could see that Poe was moving as fast as he could. You just hoped it would be enough.

"You shouldn't have come here," you heard him whispering, afraid that any soldier could hear him.

"Don't start, Poe."

"You're taking crazy risks..."

"I said, don't start."

Silence surrounded you again, only broken by Poe's heavy breathing and soft, painful moans that escaped his lips from time to time.

You finally reached the end of the passage...

"Above your head, Poe," you indicated, and he pushed the grid to reveal the passage to your ship.

A hand appeared through the hole, and Finn helped Poe to climb up to reach the level of the ground again.

"It's so good to see you, Poe," he grinned, patting Poe's shoulder as he helped him into the ship.

"It's good to see you too," Poe gave his friend an exhausted smile.

BB-8 came rushing towards Poe as Finn was carrying him inside the little cargo ship you had borrowed to the Resistance.

"I'm happy to see you too, buddy," Poe smiled at the excited droid. "Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine."

"We need to go now!" you urged your friends as you saw some troopers heading your way, running through the hangar.

You helped Finn settling Poe down in a seat, fastening the belt for him.

"Y/N... I have to tell you, in case we don't make it..." he whispered, holding your hand to keep you close to him when you started to walk away to reach the cockpit and help Finn to flee.

"We're going to make it," you interrupted him stubbornly.

"I need to tell you..."

"You'll tell me on D'Qar."

But you suddenly noticed his falling eyelids...

"Hey, Poe!" you held his head between your hands to force him to look up at you. "You stay with me. We're going to take you out of here."

"Y/N... I need to tell you..."

The ground shook under your feet, the metal of the ship trembling as BB-8 started the engines.

"Y/N! What are you doing?! We need a pilot! I can shoot them, but you need to fly this thing!" Finn shouted across the ship.

"I love you with all my heart," Poe whispered, blinking, his head falling backwards to rest on his seat.

"Poe, stay with me!" you urged him, tears flowing down your cheeks again.

"Y/N, I'll always love you..."

"Y/N! They're coming!"

"I love you..."

Poe's eyelids slowly closed while Finn's voice echoed throughout the starship one more time.

"I will always love you," Poe whispered, out of breath, struggling to get the words to pass his lips.

"POE!"

But his eyelids closed as the sound of impacts from blasters' shots shook the cargo ship...

And before all went dark, the last thing Poe saw was your eyes wet with tears.

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

 When he woke up on D'Qar he couldn't believe it was real. Poe was certain to have died there, on that ship. He would have been more or less at peace with that. He had told you how he felt for you, and it would have been enough. Although, he now felt like it was everything but enough. He felt like he was given a second chance, and he didn't intend to miss it.

But when his hand rose to search for the necklace that never left him, his fingers closed upon nothing but a piece of fabric and void...

He had asked the nurses and doctors if they had retrieved the pendant while they were patching him up, but they had all the same answer : he had nothing around his neck when he arrived on D'Qar.

The events on the First Order ship were too blurred by pain for him to be sure that the ring had been taken away from him or if he had lost it when he had fought to free himself. He couldn't remember...

Which meant that he would never have the chance to accomplish what he had longed to do for a while now. Since he was certain that you were the one...

"Hey, flyboy."

He jumped at the sound of your voice, a smile spreading across his face nonetheless.

"Hey, flygirl," he teased with a smirk.

"How are you?" you asked softly, sitting on the bed next to him.

"The doctors won't let me walk out of here before my ribs and my wrist are back to normal," he said, intertwining his fingers with yours as you rested your hand upon his undamaged one.

"That's not very surprising."

But he suddenly frown.

"That's my jacket!" he suddenly noticed the piece of clothing you were wearing.

"It is," you nodded. "Saved it when I went looking for you. Do you like it on me?"

"It does look sexy," he smirked.

"Not as sexy as it is on you," you giggled.

"I could argue against that."

You both laughed, before silence would settle around the two of you. A tender, peaceful silence that could only exist between two people who were in love despite a war raging around them.

"Thank you," he smiled. "For saving my reckless arse."

"You're welcome," you smiled back at him. "You did give me quite a fright though."

"Wouldn't want my girl to get bored with our relationship."

You laughed.

"Next time, don't feel obliged!"

"Really?"

"Really!"

"That's such a shame..."

"Why? Were having fun up there in the middle of all those bad guys?"

Your tone was softer, less humorous all of a sudden, and he immediately noticed it, his smile fading as well.

"Not really."

"Do you want to talk about it?" you proposed kindly, but he shook his head.

"Not for now. For now I just want to enjoy the fact that we're both alive."

You exchanged another smile, although you could see that something saddened him. Perhaps it was the trauma brought by whatever he had been through on that ship. Perhaps his mind was still in that cell...

You reached for the pocket of your shirt, a proud grin on your face.

"I saved something else on that ship, that belongs to you," you told him, and he narrowed his eyes in curiosity.

You handed him his necklace, and his eyes grew wide in surprise at the sight, his brown eyes sparkling with joy.

"Where did you find it?" he asked you, taking the ring in his hand.

"With your jacket."

"Thank you so much, Y/N... you can't imagine..."

"...How much it means to you, I know," you chuckled.

But then he gave you a very strange look. You had never seen such a look before. He was intensely staring at you, apparently lost in thought, and yet studying your features carefully. You frowned hard.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

He looked down at the ring in his hand.

"I've never told you where that ring comes from," he said slowly.

"No, you've never told me," you shook your head, frowning even more.

He struggled to swallow, his brown eyes still set upon the golden ring in his hand.

"When I was a child, on Yavin IV... my mother and I were very close," he spoke softly, struggling to convince the words to pass his lips, but forcing them out anyway, his need to let you know too great after what had happened these past few days. "She's the one who taught me how to fly, you know? She... she was so kind and so brave... You know she fought for the Rebellion, right?"

You nodded, knowing about Shara Bey's role in the Rebellion.

"She was a hero," he whispered. "I... I really hope that... one day... I can make her proud."

You chased the tears away from your eyes, drying your cheeks on the back of your hand.

"I'm sure that she's proud, Poe."

A sad smile formed on his lips, but he was still staring at the necklace.

"She died when I was eight," he went on, and you could hear his voice tightening as it became hoarse with withheld tears. "And... you see... she gave me her wedding ring before she died. My parents were so in love and... I promised that one day I... I... would... give her ring to the person I would long to spend... my entire life with."

Finally he looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with tears that somehow couldn't fall, while your cheeks were now covered with salty droplets.

"It's the only thing of her I have left," he said softly. "I have a few pictures and holograms too, but... it's the last object I have that belonged to her."

You nodded, sniffing, trying to clear your throat and speak.

"I guess it was a good thing that I was lucky enough to find it then," you smiled.

He nodded, smiling as well.

"Yeah... because you see... I wanted to use it."

You frowned, but Poe ignored you, a bright smile on his lips now, and he handed you back the ring.

"I love you, Y/N," he softly breathed, and your eyes grew wide as the realization struck you. "I'll always love you. And... we don't live in the best world that could be, and perhaps the odds are playing against us, and perhaps you and I might not have so many years left to live. But I don't care. As long as I can live them with you, I'll take all the time that is left for me without complaining. As long as I can face them with you, I'll make sure to fight all those that make the Galaxy such an unfair place to live in, no matter the odds. I know that, no matter what may happen, as long as you're with me, then I'll consider my life fulfilled, and when I go, I shall bear no regrets with me. But this can only happen if I can be yours, and if you can be mine. So... would you like to spend all your life with me too?"

You sobbed, your body shaking.

"You want to give me your mother's ring?" you asked in a shaking whisper, unable to believe it.

But Poe nodded with a tender smile.

"You're the one, Y/N. I know you are. You're the one I will love until my last breath. Marry me."

You laughed, tears still streaming down your face, before finally nodding and crumbling in Poe's arms.

"I love you, flyboy."

"So... that's a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes!" you laughed nervously again. "I want to marry you, Poe Dameron."

He grinned, kissing you passionately, and slipping his mother's ring around your finger.

"I love you too, flygirl... and also... considering how sexy this jacket looks on you, perhaps you should wear it more often, if you don't mind..."

****************

Tag list : @that-bwitch, @wearetalkingtoyou, @riacollins.

[castorre]

The Quieting of the Castrum

A super self-indulgent fic I’ve been trying to finish. It involves the Garlean AU where Eclair and Mory are scientists working on the Resonance project, but Eclair decides to go with Aulus to Castrum Abania. This is based off of a certain ask meme. 

Sirens wailed, signalling the breach of Castrum Abania’s innermost levels. Scientists of all kinds sought either the single remaining transport or attempted to flee into the underground bunkers.

Of all the things to happen, when Aulus had been called to Ala Mhigo to speak with the crown prince. How was she to help her fellow scientists? What was she to do except wait for her own demise? Eclair sat, curled into a corner, holding her knees to her chest. She would be found eventually. They would surely seek the servers for the Castrum, hoping to find the information abound about both the Empire and the experiments which had taken place there.

A small bleep of sound recalled Eclair to the one terminal in the small room. She tapped on the keyboard, entering the requisite information.

[Accepted]

[Cloud Upload Complete]

She breathed heavily, the heat of the servers stifling the room. The cooling had been one of the things necessary to disengage once the Alliance began pushing further into the Castrum. They had to reserve those small stores of energy.

[Delete Server Cache?]

[Accepted]

[Working....]

A loud bang startled the duskwight from the terminal. Yelling, more banging.

“Fuck me…” She glared back at the terminal, just as it reached completion. “Good, just a little more. Work with me.”

[Format Server Mainframe? (This will delete all data from the server storage memory)]

[Accepted]

[Working…]

The heavy metal door creaked. Another loud bang, sending flames sputtering through the small spaces between the wall and the door. Explosives? She would soon be found out, but all there was left was to pray, to whomever would hear her, that her task would finish before they found her.

She retreated to the darkest corner of the room, hidden behind a mass of wires and steel and magitek. She ran her hands through her coat carefully. Twas unfortunate that she had not been in the labs when the initial sirens sounded. She would have at least been able to arm herself with the multitude of acids or oxygen-aided explosives they had developed.

The door shook, finally giving way to whatever explosives they had used to splinter the metal. She shrank against the wall, hoping they would only give a cursory glance over the room before leaving.

“Well, what do we ‘ave here?” The distinct Ala Mhigan accent gave Eclair worry. She knew that meant trouble for her if they found her. After all, they would be blood thirsty after their victory over the Castrum.

“Suppose i’s some sort o’ terminal. Nothin’ real interestin’ except to the commanders.” A second man, one who stepped a bit too close to the long file of drives Eclair was hiding behind. She held her breath.

[Complete]

“Eh? Looks like someone was in here not long ago. Not that I know much about these Garlean junkers. But they don’ just do shite on their own do they?”

“It’s a magitek terminal, o’ course they do you utter dodo. Come on, there ain’t nothin’ in here to kill.”

“All these science types have been borin’ anyways. No challenge.” The two men’s voices faded away beyond the doorway. Eclair finally took several deep breaths, her trembling fingers fumbling to help her stand. She obviously couldn’t just stay in the room…

She peaked beyond the doorway, her eyes widening in horror at the mass of bodies lining the halls. The Alliance was pulling the corpses of the science staff out for disposal, most likely. Distant explosions, screams, yells, so many things that mired her senses. The stench of the smoke that hung around was not just that of explosives, but of burning flesh as well. At least the flame traps had worked as intended, she supposed.  

The hall outside, besides the bodies, seemed relatively clear. Every now and again she would hear the distant footfalls of what surely must be Alliance or Resistance. She took a deep breath and stuck to the darker corridors, hoping to make it to any of the communication hubs deeper in the castrum. She knew the place intimately, and could surely outmaneuver any outsiders, who were likely to run into magitek sentries or other traps. She continued, ever alert, bound for the nearest safe room.

Meanwhile, none too far away, in the Ala Mhigan palace:

“Lord Zenos…” Aulus mal Asina appeared from behind the throne, removing his hand from the linkpearl at his ear.

“What is it, Aulus?” Zenos seemed preoccupied, his fingers dragging through the fabric at his waist.

“The mainframe has been breached..”

“What is the status?”

“She managed to delete it, my lord.”

“Good. Tis a shame that we will lose one of the few competent people we have, is it not?” Zenos’ voice remained ever the same. It was as if he was referring to a stranger and not someone who had helped the entirety of the aether and resonance projects.

“Most… unfortunate.” Aulus sounded more dejected than Zenos would have thought. Then again, he had always wished for the woman to follow him wherever he went. Perhaps he had found a kindred spirit, someone much like Zenos’ own Warrior of Light.

"Don't fret, Aulus. Should you perish, I'm sure you too will be promoted."

“My Lord.” Aulus’ voice wavered, “She asked if you intended to send rescue teams or units to assist the survivors here.”

“Hmm? Survivors... After the substantial losses in the fringes and the peaks, sparing the guard here would be most foolish, do you not agree, mal Asina? The Alliance will surely direct their forces upon Porta Praetoria next and set up their final charge against us. Castrum Abania is a lost cause.”

“... Very well, I shall relay that then, Lord Zenos.”

“Asina. Do also relay something else for me.” He peered up through darkened eyes, half-lidded, “I shall inform her little sister.”

“Yes, my lord.” Aulus found it hard to walk away without demanding his staff be given more respect than to leave them to die. Surely Zenos had known this was coming. Why else would the viceroy have recalled him so suddenly, and so conveniently?

He held his hand up to his ear, a sigh passing through his lips before he spoke.

“Eclair, Zenos has no intention of sending a search and rescue team. Nor does he intend to send even an escort for those escaping into the lochs. If you manage to find yourself through Porta Praetoria before the Alliance… you are faced with a invariably dangerous journey to the palace.”

“Aulus, I appreciate the concern… I will do my best to save those who are left in our team. I’ve seen things, terrible things, Aulus. I don’t know how many of us there are left, but I’ll open the gate to Porta Praetoria. If there is anyone left, I swear I will help them. I refuse to sit by and die.”

“I wish you luck, my… friend.” Aulus had never really had friends. If anyone were close enough to be called one, surely it would be his assistant of nearly a decade.

“Thank you, Aulus. If… if this is the last we ever speak, please take care of yourself. Don’t huff anymore of those spray chemicals, alright? They’re not good for you, you know.” She laughed before they exchanged their farewells over the linkpearl. If Zenos wouldn’t help, there was perhaps one more option she could try.

She keyed in a number that she had never had to call before, one she had been given only for an emergency.

“Your Radiance?”

“No, he is in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message for him?” The voice was one she recognized, but barely. Likely a scribe of some sort.

“No, is there any way you could call for him, for even a moment?”

“Absolutely not. The fact that you would even ask about such a thing- I will take a name and a mes-”

“No, I don’t believe it will matter by the time he’s out.” She ended the call before the other person could respond. Of course, in her last moments, she was being deflected by diplomacy.

Very well, if that was how it was going to be… She pulled her coat off, ridding herself of the useless weight. It held too little protection to be worth how much it weighed. She walked to the door, pressing her ear to the outside. Nothing. The shaft she had traveled down had been barren then. Though it was likely the alliance would come by the wing at any moment.

One last time on the terminal. She keyed out several numbers, connected to linkpearls. “Attention, this is lux E’vila. Is there anyone still out there?”

Silence…

“Once again, this is lux E’vila. Is there anyone still alive?”

The silence was deafening. There was no way she was the only one, was there? All of the people she had come to know, like a second family away from the capital. They were all…? That realization hit her like a mountain of bricks. Thank the twelve that Mory had stayed back home. She should have as well. She should have listened to Varis’ concerns, to Claudia’s. But she was too stubborn. She wanted so much to see the project to completion. And what had it done? Created a monster of a viceroy, killed far more than it aided, and for all of it… she was left to die by someone she considered family. How could he? She knew he wasn’t who he had been, but, to leave her there to die as if she were nothing.

A loud bang, and several more, shook the entire building. What exactly… no, a ram? To blast through the door leading to the final path to the Lochs, most likely. Had they already reached so far? She placed her hand against the pad of the door, and peered around the edge when it opened.

Alliance everywhere. How had she not heard them? Her eyes widened at the realization… the communications rooms were all sound padded. In her certainty that she could reach the outside, she had locked herself in a void, unable to hear just how dangerous the situation outside was becoming.

Loud voices came from right down the hall, and as she went to shut the door, all of the backup generators running the castrum finally died. Suddenly, she was lost in the pitch black. And just as quickly, she was unsure of how to progress from here. All of her peers were dead. The Alliance was breaking into the Lochs at that very instant. She shrank against the inside wall, her fingers trembling as she faced what was almost certainly the end. There were no survivors to the Alliance, not this time, at least. It was plain they were unforgiving, unwilling to even gaol the unarmed, opting to slay at will. Savages is what the Garleans called them. And, perhaps, Eclair agreed. For she had never seen a worse sight than that which she had quietly stepped through, holding in her cries of rage at the dead around her.

Despite all they had done in the resonance project, despite the experimentation - she had never meant to harm anyone. She hadn’t intended to. And she always worked to make sure the subjects were as comfortable as possible.

The voices came close, on just the other side of the wall. Eclair held her breath, choking back tears again. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a switchblade and releasing it to a prone position.

It was from there that everything seemed to slip from reality into a strange haze of action and consequence. She waited for the voices to go past the door, before trying to dart to the next hallway she could remember. The doors were locked. All of the doors would be inaccessible now, of course…

She let out a curse, perhaps a little too loudly. And found herself at the unfortunate end of a group of Alliance soldiers with the only exit past them.

“Well, what have we? A Garlean?” A light was shone on her face, causing her to squint.

“Hardly. I am blue and have pointed ears. Though I suppose I could pretend if you really wanted me to.”

“A traitor then? Even worse if you ask me.” A second soldier growled, already reaching for his weapon.

“You lot come barging in here, killing everyone. Not asking a single damn question. Killing unarmed people, killing people who were taken from their homes by war, killing people born to parents of annexed nations. Killing your own kin and blood just like the savages they say you are. Like they say WE are. And you’ve done naught but prove them right because you bastards slaughtered a castrum filled with mainly non-Garlean personnel. You killed the staff that was left when the Viceroy recalled the important purebloods back to Ala Mhigo.”

The soldiers glanced at each other through the dim light before drawing closer to her. The first glared at her, “So you are an Imperial then? You didn’t have to go spilling your guts like that.”

“Someone has to. Because, for some reason, your Alliance leaders have about as much wit between them as a spriggan. When they decide to raid the next castrum, maybe they can remember that there are people that never wanted to be there in the first place.”

“Traitor!” The soldier, a fellow elezen, lunged at her with his blade. She barely even tried to dodge it, taking the blade right through the viscera. Perhaps it was because she knew, even back in the mainframe, that this would be where she died. None of the staff had deserved their deaths. None.

“You’re right. I am a traitor, gladly. Because the best Eorzea had to offer me was beatings. And now you offer me what?” Blood soaked her clothing, spreading into her pants. A fast motion, unnerving in its silence, found Eclair’s switchblade in the throat of the soldier. He fell back onto the ground with a wet gargle. “Death?”

She stepped over the body, still with the blade through her abdomen. It seemed as if it phased her little at all. For some reason, the soldiers were backing away from her. Did she seem frightening for some reason?

The two others drew their blades, shakily. The woman’s eyes, was she one of those experiments like they saw in the bottom floors? Like the dead bodies that lay in mutilated heaps.

“What in the seven hells - kill her!” Even saying that, neither of the two were keen on lunging at the woman with a sword through her tip to hilt and eyes pink as a carnation. It was only when she finally stood within touching distance that they drove their blades into her multiple times. And yet, she took the hits without a sound, as if she were a phantom, unfeeling. A pool of blood formed under her, growing wider by the second.

“Ishgard… Gridania… all of Eorzea. A heap of garbage waiting for the incinerator. Just like my friends that you murdered.” Everything was suddenly quiet, when she had nearly pried one man’s head from his neck with the switchblade. The other ran, leaving his fallen comrades and his sword behind.

She walked back into the hallway she had come from. The swords hit the floor with a sharp rattling after she pulled them from her gut. It was strange, this new sensation. How was she still going? That should have surely killed her. And yet, her body felt more at ease than it ever had. For once, nothing hurt, her mind didn’t race. She had noticed, in smaller scale, that her wounds would heal much faster. That pulled muscles didn’t stay that way for long. But this was a totally different kind of resonance. Not at all like what Zenos or Mory had.

All at once, that feeling of euphoric calm left, and the shooting pain brought her to kneel. Had she run out of aether? It mattered little now. She had counted herself dead already, so what else was there to care about? She would be free. But that brought little comfort considering the shock her body was going through. Her instincts told her to fight. But there was no fighting this. Nothing left to aid herself with in the pitch black, surrounded by a legion’s worth of murderers.

There was only one regret. And as her eyes closed for the last time, she swore she heard Regula calling out to her.

[localocksmithnearme]

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[roboticsappreciationsociety]

One response to the call by experts in robotics and artificial intelligence for an ban on “killer robots” (“lethal autonomous weapons systems” or Laws in the language of international treaties) is to say: shouldn’t you have thought about that sooner?

Figures such as Tesla’s CEO, Elon Musk, are among the 116 specialists calling for the ban. “We do not have long to act,” they say. “Once this Pandora’s box is opened, it will be hard to close.” But such systems are arguably already here, such as the “unmanned combat air vehicle” Taranis developed by BAE and others, or the autonomous SGR-A1 sentry gun made by Samsung and deployed along the South Korean border. Autonomous tanks are in the works, while human control of lethal drones is becoming just a matter of degree.

Yet killer robots have been with us in spirit for as long as robots themselves. Karel Čapek’s 1920 play RUR (Rossum’s Universal Robots) gave us the word (meaning “labourer” in Czech). His humanoid robots, made by the eponymous company for industrial work, rebel and slaughter the human race. They’ve been doing it ever since, from Cybermen to the Terminator. Robot narratives rarely end well.

It’s hard even to think about the issues raised by Musk and his co-signatories without a robot apocalypse looming in the background. Even if the end of humanity isn’t at stake, we just know that one of these machines is going to malfunction with the messy consequences of Omni Consumer Product’s police droid in Robocop.

Such allusions could seem to make light of a deadly serious subject. OK, so a robot Armageddon might not be exactly frivolous, but these stories, for all that they draw on deep-seated human fears, are ultimately entertainment. It’s all too easy, though, for a debate like this to settle into the polarisation of good and bad technologies that science-fiction movies can encourage, with the attendant implication that, so long as we avoid the really bad ones, all will be well.

The issues – as specialists on Laws doubtless recognise – are more complex. On the one hand, they concern the wider, and increasingly pressing, matter of robot ethics; on the other hand they are about the very nature of modern war, and its commodification.

How do we make autonomous technological systems safe and ethical? Avoiding robot-inflicted harm to humans was the problem explored in Isaac Asimov’s I, Robot, a collection of short stories so seminal that Asimov’s three laws of roboticsare sometimes discussed now almost as if they have the force of Isaac Newton’s three laws of motion. The irony is that Asimov’s stories were largely about how such well-motivated laws could be undermined by circumstances.

In any event, the ethical issues can’t easily be formulated as one-size-fits-all principles. Historian Yuval Noah Harari has pointed out that driverless vehicles will need some principles for deciding how to act when faced with an unavoidable and possibly lethal collision: who does the robot try to save? Perhaps, Harari says, we will be offered two models: the Egoist (which prioritises the driver) and Altruist (which puts others first).

There are shades of science-fictional preconceptions in a 2012 report on killer robots by Human Rights Watch. “Distinguishing between a fearful civilian and a threatening enemy combatant requires a soldier to understand the intentions behind a human’s actions, something a robot could not do,” it says. Furthermore, “robots would not be restrained by human emotions and the capacity for compassion, which can provide an important check on the killing of civilians”. But the first claim is a statement of faith – mightn’t a robot make a better assessment using biometrics than a frightened soldier using instincts? As for the second, one feels: sure, sometimes. Other times, humans in war zones wantonly rape and massacre.

This is not to argue against the report’s horror at autonomous robot soldiers, which I for one share. Rather, it brings us back to the key question, which is not about technology but warfare.

Already our sensibilities about the ethics of war are arbitrary. “The use of fully autonomous weapons raises serious questions of accountability, which would erode another established tool for civilian protection,” says the Human Rights Watch, and it is a fair point but impossible to place in any consistent ethical framework while nuclear weapons are internationally legal. Besides, there’s a continuum between drone war, soldier enhancement technologies and Laws that can’t be broken down into “man versus machine”.

This question of automated military technologies is intimately linked to the changing nature of war itself, which, in an age of terrorism and insurgency, no longer has a start or end, battlefields or armies: as American strategic analyst Anthony Cordesman puts it: “One of the lessons of modern war is that war can no longer be called war.” However we deal with that, it’s not going to look like the D-day landings.

Warfare has always used the most advanced technologies available; “killer robots” are no different. Pandora’s box was opened with the invention of steel smelting if not earlier (and it was almost never a woman who did the opening). And you can be sure someone made a profit from it.

By all means let’s try to curb our worst impulses to beat ploughshares into swords, but telling an international arms trade that they can’t make killer robots is like telling soft-drinks manufacturers that they can’t make orangeade.

[larkwinters-a]

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The duo of sentries walked down the corridor just like Lark knew they would. His back was flush against the wall, he was holding his breath, and he waited until he knew it was clear, that the sentries were gone, before he darted from his hiding spot, across the corridor and then around the corner. Once more, he was hidden in the shadows.

His heartbeat was nothing but background noise as he calculated the approach of the next sentries. Tap. Tap. Tap. They had strolled past without a hitch and then Lark made his next dash; right to the escape pods. 

The door opened with a quiet swish and then Lark was ducking inside, his heart now more than a background noise; the thump, thump, thump, was loud in his ears but he was so close. For the first time in so long, he was so close.

The Galra escape pod was a sleek ship that slid open when Lark pressed his hand - Was it his? Could he call it his right now? It sure felt like his, he didn’t know - against one of the smooth metal surfaces. Metal on metal sparked the ship to life and Lark was slipping in, his fingers hitting the controls in a manner he’d been taught how to do at the Garrison, a time that felt like a centuries ago.

With one quick look around his surroundings, he made sure it was safe to launch and then decided, on a whim and because he could feel the panic flood his chest and mind and make his hands shake, even the metal one, he hit the keys to launch and the ship blasted off of the larger Galra ship in a matter of seconds.

And then he was in the fast uncertainty of space.

Relative to where he believed Earth lay - the Galra and other aliens had called it Terra - Lark had no clue where he was. He had nothing but the ships navigation system and his own fragile memory to deduce where he was going. With one hand, he flew away from the Galra ship, hurtling towards an unknown destination, and with the other, he scrolled across the map presented to him. Nothing looked familiar and then he saw it. 

It was a small round shape. Stemming from that, a line that lead to a label. Earth, it read. 

He was close. He was almost home. He set the co-ordinations and the Galra pod sped off, once more hurtling through space, the stars nothing but white blurs in his peripheral vision. He kept his eyes on anything but the windows of the pod; they offered him a view of his reflection and Lark wasn’t too keen on seeing what a year as a Galra prisoner had done to him. It was bad enough that he had been wiped of his memories, that there was a whole twelve month long gap between the mission to Kerberos and now. He couldn’t remember who he was.

But, within his panic and fear addled mind, he remember someone. A friend, possibly. A girl with soft hair and cold hands and a bond he’d had with her. In the haze of his wild emotions and the adrenaline from his escape wearing off, he could feel the world settle around him, his bones becoming heavier and his mind for dark. The pod was on auto pilot and the last thing he remembered before dozing off was a single word; Roo.

He woke up god knows how much longer, a scream tearing from his throat, the result of a nightmare he could no longer remember and he was instantly hit with the smell of burning. His pod shook and rattled in jarring, static motions. Lark jolted up and looked around. He was crashing.

During his sleep, he’d made it the entire way to Earth and upon entering the atmosphere, he’d either entered far too fast and had begun to burn up upon entry or something else had caught up with him. Either way, the red sand of a weirdly familiar desert rushed closer and closer and Lark didn’t have the chance to react before impact.

The ship slammed into the Earth. Lark was thrown from his seat. 

He was jerked forward, back hitting one of the three windows before he tumbled down onto the floor. The ship skidded to a stop. Lark forgot how breathing worked. He’d forgotten what real oxygen tasted like and not the artificially produced stuff that had been pumped into his lungs for a long time now. 

He pulled himself from the ship and landed on the red sand with a soft thump. It hit him that he was back on Earth, that he’d made it back home. He could have been happy about the revelation had he not heard the screech of tires, the people leaping out of the cars. Okay. So, maybe in the time he’d been gone, he’d forgotten about how humans reacted to things. It came with being around aliens for so long.

They reacted negatively to him because of course they did. He was yanked from the ground as more hazmat suit wearing figures started to work on the ship and panicked flooded his system. It filled his veins and gave the world a terrifying purple haze to it and it came back to him in flashes then; attempting to fight for the freedom of himself, Luke, and Bobbi, the sharp pain as the butt of the gun hit his head, being dragged along the corridor and getting a glimpse of the place that would be his home for the next however long it had been.

A similar scene played out here; the Garrison soldiers ignored his pleading and begging, ignored the warnings he was yelling out to them. They ignored him as he warned of the aliens, the Galra, that were coming to Earth. He told them about Voltron. 

And all it got him was a one way trip to the make shift lab - they weren’t dumb enough to actually let the missing pilot of the Kerberos mission into the building after he had been gone for a year and was shouting about things that were impossible, not when there was people who could get harmed - that had been set up by god knows who, so that the scientists could examine both him and the ship he’d crashed here in. 

They strapped him down; Lark remembered something similar happening a long time ago and his fight or flight kicked in. He choose fight, he wanted to get away.

“Calm down Winters,” one of the suits said. “We just need to keep you in Quarantine until we -”

“No! You have to listen to me,” Lark protested. “They destroy worlds!”

“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?” One of them asked, clearly not interested.

“I don’t know, I don’t care.” he said. “There’s no time. They’re coming for a weapon, they’ll destroy us. We need to find Voltron.”

“Look at that,” One said to the other. They weren’t listening to him now. “It looks like his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic..”

Lark curled his metal hand into a fist. They weren’t listening and his panic was making him frantic, erratic. If he had to fight his way out, then he would. There would be someone who would listen to him, someone out there who would understand.

“Put him under.” The one in charge said. “Until we figure out what that thing can do.”

Going under meant going to sleep, going to sleep meant having nightmares he wouldn’t remember but he would feel the after effects, the lingering panic, the cold sweat. There was a reason he didn’t sleep anymore.

“No! No, no, no!” he begged. “Please! Don’t put me under! Please.”

They didn’t listen to him; they injected the sedative and his heart beat faster. It worked quicker due to that and in a matter of seconds, he was swallowed whole by the darkness.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 11 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   Ah, brotherly love! Or LOVE, depending on how this goes.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

~~*~~

Read on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

“Where have you been?”

As he was shutting the door, Rus caught a glimpse of their current Dog guard. He cringed, his tail drooping to tuck between his legs and Rus had no doubt that if he had a tail of his own, he’d be doing the same thing. Blue wasn’t very tall, but he packed a lot of punch per square inch and from the bright, erratic glow of his eye lights, he was very tempted to send all that punching right in Rus’s direction.

Rus turned to him, clutching his backpack to his chest, pins jangling and digging in. There wasn’t time to come up with a real plan and he didn’t exactly want to go with ‘hung out with strippers then ended with sitting on Edge’s lap’, so deflect, deflect, deflect it was.

“what i was told to do,” Rus tried, “staying out of trouble. i…i was reading a book.” Hey, it was true and only left out a few key details.

Instead of soothing his brother, Blue only seemed angrier, a hectic flush of near sapphire staining his cheekbones as he snapped out, “Reading a book?!” The last word soared up to a level of shrill that threatened to shatter the glasses on the little minibar in the corner. “Are you mad? Look at you!”

Rus glanced down at himself, shit, how could he have forgotten the state of his shirt? He looked like he’d taken on a part-time job as a chimney sweep. In a burst of inspiration, he said, “i…lit the fireplace, the room was cold.” Rus laughed, a touch raggedly. “i guess i need practice, it was harder than i thought.”

“You would have been warm enough back here!” Blue retorted. “It’s been hours! I’ve been sitting here, waiting and wondering, near out of my mind worrying! I asked the Dogs to bring me to you or to bring you back here and none of them would do a thing!”

“maybe they didn’t want to bother me. what were you doing, then?” Rus flung back, his own shamed guilt curdling into anger. He turned away from his brother’s accusing face and went to the closet, stashing his backpack roughly inside and ignoring the clothing hanging within. “red seemed to think you had something awfully important to talk about that both of you assumed i didn’t need to hear!”

Stupid of him, Rus cursed inwardly, as if he wasn’t keeping his own secrets about last night, secrets that he himself revealed existed with his foolish breakfast table apology. Rus hunched into himself as he waited for Blue to throw that one at him, wildly trying to come up with an explanation his brother would believe. Only Blue said nothing and when Rus risked a look at him, his round face was crumpled in upset.

“We do…we did! It’s not like that, Papy.” His brother took a hurt, hitched breath and his sudden misery only made Rus’s sinking guilt worse. He hated fighting with his brother, Blue always worked so hard, did so much for him, and here he was doing…what…with Edge? He wasn’t even sure, but what he did know was his brother who’d cared for him, bandaged his hurts, made sure he was properly clothed and fed since Rus was old enough to remember was near tears because of him. “Little brother, these people are—” Blue broke off, biting back whatever he’d planned to say. He scrubbed a hand over his face and Rus suddenly noticed Blue had changed his clothes into something simpler, his own clothes from the day before. Blue sighed heavily into his hands and when he dropped them from his face, he was calmer, “I was worried, that was all. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Rus swallowed hard, trying and failing to swallow away the swell of his guilt. His brother probably wasn’t wrong to be worried, but all he said was, “it’s okay, bro.”

Seriously, of course Blue was fucking worried, two days ago someone shot up their shop, yesterday he’d been kidnapped, had it only been yesterday? It seemed so much longer, days, weeks, since he’d been tied to that chair, bruised and terrified, wondering if he was going to die. He sank down to one knee and hugged Blue, took comfort from like he couldn’t yesterday.

His brother hugged him back, short, strong arms circling his neck, holding him tightly. Rus only vaguely remembering ever having to look up to him, he’d been taller than his big brother for ages now. Blue’s wordless murmurs of comfort became a barely audible whisper, “We mustn’t assume they can’t hear us.”

Oh.

Rus gave him a tiny nod, felt his brother sigh as he murmured, low, “We need to stay together as much as we can, to stay safe, do you understand?”

“yeah.” That must be why Blue wasn’t questioning him about what Edge let slip this morning, he was afraid of who might overhear. Rus couldn’t help being relieved at the reprieve even as his guilt threatened to strangle him. He wasn’t used to keeping secrets from his brother, not about anything. He’d explain soon, Rus told himself, he would. First, he’d use whatever time he had to figure things out for himself.

Blue finally pulled away, his eye lights suspiciously shimmery. “Now! Change your shirt and come along with me. Dogamy showed me something earlier that you might enjoy.”

“dogamy?” Rus asked, confused. Some of the clothes in the closet were in his size, he realized, and he hastily changed, this time a soft lavender pullover, before following Blue to the door. He tried not to think about what the sheer quantity of clothes might mean.

Blue nodded “He’s the leader of the Dogs around here, or so they tell me.”

“So… you got to meet the top dog, huh,” Rus said teasingly.

Worth it for the way Blue grumbled out with familiar, exasperated fondness, “Don’t start. Come along, now.”

This time Blue led the way down the hallway. Neither of them looked back at the shadow they picked up, the sound of paws on carpet as their latest sentry followed along. Blue gave no sign of his discomfort past a certain stiffness in his shoulders. The trip seemed a lot shorter than any other, to a door with a strange symbol on it. Blue pushed through it and they went up an echoing concrete staircase, easily the least elegant part of the building Rus had seen so far. Probably meant for maintenance people or even in case of fire…and he stopped that thought right there, he didn’t want to be thinking of fire in any capacity for some time.

At the top of the stairs was a heavy door with a push bar and it took both of them to push it open, but once they stepped through, out into sudden fresh air—

Well. No wonder Blue was so eager to show him.

It was a rooftop garden, arbors of cooling greenery overhead and a winding stone path leading through overflowing planters and pillars covered in winding ivory. Rus followed the path to a bench and sat, breathing in the smell of plants and soil that he’d been missing.

“this is nice, isn’t it,” Rus murmured. Hardly up to his brother’s standards when it came to gardens, but without the need for the high fences surrounding it. To his professional eye, it was all a bit of a hodgepodge; whoever set this up didn’t have much of a sense for design, or perhaps they simply didn’t care, and already he was itching to move things around a bit, arrange them into a more aesthetically pleasing form.

It was no surprise that his brother seemed in agreement of that. “Nice,” Blue sniffed, “It’s so overgrown and chaotic it’s a wonder it hasn’t wandered off down the side of the building on its own! The hanging baskets need clipped back and the drainage for the roses is so poor I expect all the bushes have root rot.” His distaste brightened into determination, “but I think we can improve it.”

“spruce it up, you mean.”

“Papy,” Blue groaned, but there was laughter beneath it. Underneath the bench was small tool caddy and Blue dragged it out, snagging a pair of gloves. It seemed he meant they should work on it now and suddenly, no idea appealed more. For all that opening the shop was his brother’s idea, Rus genuinely enjoyed the work and he’d honestly been missing it. There wasn’t much he could do about the way their shop and garden were being neglected, but there was no reason to let these atrocities continue. He grabbed a pair of his own gloves, rolling up his sleeves and got to work.

By the time Rus looked up again, sweating through his shirt and aching a bit from effort, most of the containers close to the door were trimmed and weeded, and several transplants moved to where they could be both aesthetically pleasing and benefit from the sunshine. Honestly, the rainbow was all good and well, but tossing a bunch of different flowers into one pot did not an arrangement make.

Rus peeled off his gloves as he climbed to his feet. He pressed both hands to his spine as he stretched, groaning in relief as the joints popped. A quick glance showed Blue was still hard at work, unclipping the hanging baskets to shape the unwieldy stems. Rus left him to it, wandered to the side of the building where the breeze was stronger. He braced his hands on the waist-high ledge, peering down. Past the neon glow of the sign, the street level was busy, Monsters on the sidewalk going about their business.

The Dust Bowl was too small to allow for any empty spaces and despite the overwhelming presence of the strip club, there were plenty of shops lining the street and their products became less salacious the further away they got. No Humans were in sight, but that was no surprise. Any Humans who drove through here were seeking an extremely specific product that was sold on street corners, often invited into their cars and back to a hotel room, or at least a quick park in a deserted back alley. His brother certainly tried but he couldn’t keep all the gossip from Rus’s hearing, and he knew some Monsters were unable to get paying jobs on the surface, reduced to prostitution themselves to the Humans that so often despised them.

That made Rus think of Mona, her generous kindness and her gentle smile. He really hoped that wasn’t something she had to do, that Edge meant it when he said he took care of his people.

Across the street something caught his eye, disrupting that line of thought. Rus frowned a little as he studied the car that was a tad too luxurious to fit in this neighborhood. It was parked across the street from the club and there was someone sitting in the driver’s seat, though he couldn’t make out anything about them from the distance. Not one of Edge’s people, he was sure, they’d have gone into the parking garage, so who—

*We know it’s there.*

Startled, Rus whirled around with a choked gasp. The Dog that followed them up here was behind him. None of the Dogs had ever spoken to him before but there was no mistaking that woofy accent.

“you know?” Rus asked uncertainly.

The Dog nodded, impatiently brushing back a floppy ear that fell over one eye. *Stay in the club, pup. Safe here.*

“i…yes, i will,” Rus stammered out. He turned away from that ominous car and looked back out at the rooftop, at the plants they were working so hard on. “but. is it really safe up here? couldn’t they hurt—” Us “…the garden? i mean…all right, this sounds ridiculous, but i’m not sure, a bomb? like a molotov cocktail, i’ve seen movies.”

Dogs couldn’t properly laugh, but this one’s tongue lolled out in a doggish grin. *Not Blaze, too blunt, no finesse. Couldn’t anyway.*

He stepped up to the ledge and held out a paw, gestured patiently for Rus to do the same. He did, confused, pressing out as though pushing an invisible wall and when his hand reached the edge of the building, he stopped with a startled cry. There was nothing to see, but he could feel the buzz of protective magic and the fierce intent behind it.

“spells,” Rus murmured. Edge did mention they’d been weaving plenty of protective spells over the club.

*Yes, many,* the Dog agreed. *Keep you safe, pup.*

Pup, honestly, now there was yet another nickname that he did not need.

“i do have a name,” Rus said, exasperated,

*Yes.* Another doggish laugh. *Flower shop.*

“oh, for—” Rus laughed himself, helplessly, “rus, you can call me rus.”

*Rus,* the Dog said agreeably. He didn’t offer a name of his own and Rus didn’t press. Obviously, he hadn’t reached Blue’s level of rank with the dogma around here. Something to strive for.

Rus went back into the garden proper, casting a last uncomfortable look back at that car and the watcher inside. They really were trapped in here, Rus thought unhappily. Little wildflowers plucked from their freedom and tucked into a pretty vase and the very idea of once again being imprisoned after a lifetime underground chafed, this time to a much smaller area even if they could still see the sunshine.

Trapped, and there wasn’t a thing Rus could do about it.

Instead, he snatched up his gloves again and got back to work. Rus didn’t have his brother’s skills with growing, but he liked to think he brought his own talents to the party. Time passed and Rus was finishing up trimming a bed of lovely but overgrown miniature roses when a voice spoke up behind him.

“You two have been busy.”

Rus tried to whirl around and stand in the same motion and instead toppled off his perch on the side of the planter to the ground with a painful thump.

“honestly, what is with you people always creeping up on me!” Rus grumbled, casting a glare in the direction of his frightener. Edge, who was standing by one of the arbors and likely had been for some time, stalker that he was proving himself to be.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Edge said, not quite contrite.

“you…you didn’t.” As if his soul wasn’t hammering in his rib cage. Then it throbbed wildly for another reason entirely. Edge must have showered, and he’d changed out of the sooty wreck of his suit into tight slacks and another crimson button up shirt. Only this one was undone halfway down his sternum, showing off a wealth of scarred collarbone and ribs that seemed to point in the direction of his sleek belt buckle and lower. He looked casually posh and temptingly handsome.

And here Rus was, sweaty, unwashed, and probably filthy from face to foot.

Angel have mercy.

Rus scrambled to his feet, rubbing at his poor, abused tailbone in awkward flusterment. Welp, if you couldn’t go for pizzazz, may as well go for bluster. “your garden isn’t in very good shape, you should find a new gardener. maybe try one who’s seen a plant once or twice before you hire them on.”

Edge glanced around them as though the garden just sprung up in that moment and he was only now noticing, “To be honest, I hardly remembered this was up here.”

“don’t let blue hear you say that,” Rus warned, “he nearly wept when he saw the state of your roses.” The poor things were in awful shape and Rus was very sure he’d heard his brother muttering words he hadn’t even thought Blue knew under his breath. Rus looked down at the ones he’d been tending to; the sweet-smelling blossoms with curled velvety petals were hardly larger than a knucklebone, “you seem to like your roses.”

“I do like certain flowers.” The words were much closer than expected and Rus looked up, newly startled to find standing Edge right next to him, the sneak, so close Rus could see the faint sparks crackling in his eye lights as he slowly ducked his head. Rus knew it was coming and somehow still couldn’t brace himself for the feel of Edge’s mouth against his own, coaxingly soft.

Oh. Oh, this was—he couldn’t think, not with Edge so close to him, the smell of him, the heat of his body, his mouth. Rus swallowed down a whimper, tipping his head up and let his teeth part. There was a flicker of a tongue over his own, coyly enticing, and Rus followed the invitation, shyly exploring Edge’s mouth with his own, tasting the heady spice of magic and desire.

That mouth began to draw away far too soon and Rus would have chased it, frantically rising up on his toes as it slipped out of reach, desperate for more. Would have, if strong hands hadn’t caught his shoulders and a low chuckle dragged him back to embarrassing reality.

“Eager, are we?” Edge husked out. It took far too long for his meaning to register, long enough for him to cup Rus’s face in a large hand, his gloved thumb brushing away what was probably a smudge of dirt from his cheekbone.

“you--!” Rus sputtered, but all his indignance faltered, fading, when he caught sight of his brother.

Blue was looking at them, white-faced and grim, and his sockets were empty caves of blackness.

Fuck.

Edge followed his look, catching sight of Blue before he turned away and stormed off the furthest corner of the garden, and frowned. “You haven’t told him anything about us, have you.”

There was an understatement. “i wasn’t sure what there was to tell,” Rus admitted, too soft.

“That’s a discussion all its own. Don’t keep secrets from your brother,” Edge said, “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”

Something about the confidence in that roused Rus’s indignance again. Honestly, Edge hardly knew him and certainly didn’t know a thing about Blue, and here he was, making blanket statements like that. As if he knew a thing about shame. Tartly, Rus asked, “you’re so sure about that?”

“Yes,” Edge said, a low, amused rumble. “There’s no shame in giving in to the inevitable.”

“inevita—" Rus gasped. Of all the arrogant, conceited…! “you don’t even know my name!”

“No? Talk to your brother, tell him the truth.” Edge’s humor went suddenly grim. “Once you get into the habit of keeping secrets, it’s difficult to break it.”

That was enough to cool some of Rus’s roused temper. He suspected Edge was speaking from experience. But then, his brother was Red. Who wouldn’t want to keep secrets from him? Blue was another story; how could he even begin to make his brother understand that in a way this did feel inevitable. He hardly knew Edge, he certainly didn’t approve of his business, and yet, Rus was helplessly drawn to him for reasons he wasn’t sure he could articulate, much less in a way Blue would believe. “that’s easy for you to say.”

“All you have to do is say the words, flower shop,” Edge said. Then, briskly, “Now, I came up here to see if you were hungry. Breakfast was some time ago.”

As if waiting for the perfect moment to embarrass him, his magic chose that moment to give a ravenous sort of growl.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Edge chuckled. “Would you rather eat dinner in your room or with my brother and I?”

Talked about choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea. “with you,” Rus sighed. At least if dinner was with the devil, it gave him a little time to figure out how to flounder in the deep water.

Edge nodded, unsurprised, “Come on, then, we’ll get your brother together.”

A large hand settled at the base of his spine, warmth bleeding through his thin shirt as Edge guided him along. Rus gulped, but didn’t protest.

His brother loved him, Rus told himself, he did, Blue always took care of him. They’d figure this out.

tbc