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lazyarchivist · 4 days ago

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The Man Beside You, Ch 4

Chapter 4, Dreams Interrupted.

This is all I have written for this story for now, but I hope to write more as I continue reading through the HH!

Cross posted on my Ao3 account: Ryter21

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The last lodge meeting before the Warmaster's internment in the Delphos had been… illuminating. To see his brothers balancing on the knife's edge of ruination and salvation, to watch as Erebus weaponized their love for their genefather for his own means…

Garviel carefully metered the flames of his rage, knowing that allowing his emotions to consume him would only allow Samus to regain control. Not all was lost, not yet. He could not believe that there was nothing he could to try and avert the fate the Chaos Gods were crafting for them.

Erebus had waited until Loken and Torgadden had gone back to Davin, to remove as many obstacles to his plans as possible. Grudgingly, Garviel admitted that this treachery had been masterfully planned, though he would never give such thoughts voice. He followed as the lodge members discretely brought Horus Lupercal's body to the embarkation deck, the stasis chamber he had been locked in draped with the legion standard to hide his identity.

Not only did they not want to incite a riot, but Erebus had wanted to cover their tracks to buy them time once the rest of the Mournival returned. The flight down to the planet's surface was quiet and tense, and once they landed Erebus gave the lodge members strict instructions to follow before he took his leave.

"Are you not coming with us?" Abaddon had raged, emotions even more volatile as usual when Erebus had turned to leave.

"I must go and ensure the members of the Serpent's Lodge are adequately prepared," the Word Bearer responded, voice measured and soothing. "Besides, the ones that should deliver the Warmaster to his salvation should be his own sons. I would not intrude on such a moment."

Abaddon's wrath abated, pride stoked by the Chaplain's words. "Very well," he dismissed. "This had better work, Erebus."

So the group parted, Erebus disappearing into the growing crowd of Davinites as the Sons of Horus guided their Primarch towards the Delphos.

Garviel hesitated, unsure which to follow. He would not be able to stop his brothers from leaving Horus in the Delphos, but he knew Erebus had some hand in what occurred inside. Decision made, he took off after Erebus.

He watched in sick fascination as the priestess and her thralls completed preparations for the ritual that would turn his father from the path of the Emperor forever. He could feel Samus writhing in the depths of his soul, the presence of so much warp energy riling the daemon.

“Is it done?” asked Erebus.

The priestess, Akshub, nodded, lifting the long knife that had cut the heart from the sacfirice. “It is. The power of the Ones Who Dwell Beyond is with us, though we must be swift.”

“Why must we hurry, Akshub?” he asked, placing his hand upon his sword. “This must be done right or all our lives are forfeit.”

“I know this,” said the priestess. “There is another presence near, a one-eyed ghost who walks between worlds and seeks to return the son to his father.”

“Magnus, you old snake,” chuckled Erebus, looking up towards the chamber’s roof. “You won't stop us. You're too far away and Horus is too far gone. I have seen to that.”

“Who do you speak with?” asked Akshub.

“The one-eyed ghost. You said there was another presence near.”

“Near, yes,” said Akshub, “but not here.”

Tired of the old priestess’s cryptic answers, Erebus snapped, “Then where is he?”

Akshub reached up and tapped her head with the flat of her blade. “He speaks to the son, though he cannot yet reach him fully. I can feel the ghost crawling around the temple, trying to break the magic keeping his full power out.”

“What?” cried Erebus.

“He will not succeed,” said Akshub, walking towards him with the knife outstretched. “We have spirit-walked in the realm beyond for thousands of years and his knowledge is a paltry thing next to ours.” She stopped, eyes suddenly locking onto Garviel's form at the back of the room.

Garviel tensed but did not move; could she see him? If she could sense Magnus, millions of miles away there was no doubt she could tell he was watching them. Was he to be thwarted again in his mission?

“What?” Erebus asked, noting the change in her demeanor.

She did not respond at first, and Erebus felt his ire rise and made to repeat himself.

"There is another here," she said at length. "A daemon of great power."

"Why is it here?" Erebus snapped. "Is it here to help? Or to hinder?"

Garviel knew he had to do something, that inaction would only raise their suspicion. With only half an idea of what he was doing, he tapped into the demonic power that roiled beneath his skin and tugged. He paced the room, walking fully around the ritual circle and feeding it power.

Akshub smiled, relaxing minutely. "It seems you have an ally, Erebus. The gods must truly favor your cause."

Garviel carefully did not react to the words, though they made him feel sick. There was a point to this, he told himself. Wait a bit longer.

Erebus smiled and said, “Then let us begin.”

“Very well,” nodded the priestess, as Tsepha came forward and anointed Erebus’s face with crystalline antimony.

“Is this for the veil?”

“Yes,” said Akshub. “It will confound his senses and he will not see your likeness. He will see a face familiar and beloved to him.”

Erebus smiled at the delicious irony of the thought, and closed his eyes as Tsepha daubed his eyelids and cheeks with the stinging, silver-white powder.

“The spell that will allow your passage to the void requires one last thing,” said Akshub.

“What last thing?” asked Erebus, suddenly suspicious.

“Your death,” said Akshub, slashing her knife across his throat.

Garviel allowed himself a moment of vicious satisfaction at the sight of Erebus's death, the knowledge that it was only temporary diminishing his enjoyment of the moment. The power of the ritual swelled and swept around them, and Garviel felt his own power being pulled in. As Erebus's soul was sucked into the vortex, the wolf realized that his contribution had an unintended side effect.

The gateway was open to him as well.

Without a second thought he dove in, following Erebus into the dreamworld of the Warmaster.

“No!” Horus cried, stepping away from the plinth and the statue of the grotesquely exaggerated depictions of his brothers. “This must be a lie!”

Sejanus stepped towards him as if to try and offer him comfort, but then the square exploded into commotion.

The people around them were screaming, and a herd of supplicants swarmed around them.

“Horus-!” Sejanus tried to reach out to him, but they were separated by the throng of bodies.

“Sejanus!” Horus yelled. He tried to look above the heads of the people around him, but even with how he towered over the human supplicants he could not see his son.

“Horus!” a voice cried and he spun around, looking for Sejanus-

But it was not Hastur standing there.

Even jostled as Horus was by the crowd around him, a gap of people opened up before him as if they were avoiding something at the center. Across from that gap, maybe 10 meters away, stood a wolf.

This wolf was different from the ones before. Horus wasn’t sure how he knew that, just that he did. It was larger than a wolf should have been, the top of its ears would have come up to his chest had they been standing side by side, and its fur was shaggy and blond.

The screaming echoed around him as their eyes met. Sharp and gray, and Horus felt as though the beast was staring directly into his soul. He felt as though he knew this beast, though for the life of him he could not understand why.

The moment lasted barely a second before someone rammed directly into Horus's back and the Primarch stumbled. When he looked back up the wolf was still standing there, and Horus could finally hear the voice again.

"We must move! Quickly!" The creature's mouth did not move but Horus new the voice belonged to the beast. As if in a trance Horus followed the wolf. It started to weave its way through the crowd, and once it was sure Horus was following, it broke into a run. It was all Horus could do to keep up with it.

“Where are we going?” Horus asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd.

“Away,” the wolf replied, not bothering to look back at him.

“We have to go back,” Horus insisted, although he didn’t know why he was following the beast’s lead in the first place. “I must find Hastur-“

They took a sharp turn and suddenly they were alone. There were no people down this street, and though Horus could still hear screaming it was a distant echo now.

Finally, the wolf turned to face him.

“That was not Hastur Sejanus,” it said. “But, you already knew that.” It paused and cocked it’s head at him, “Why were you entertaining him, if you knew he was merely pretending to be your most beloved son?”

Horus looked away, trying to find an answer that was not there.

"Who is the man who dares wear Hastur's face?" Horus asked instead.

“The Hand,” the wolf replied. “I do not believe you are ready to hear his name yet. Soon, but not yet,” the wolf stopped Horus before he could demand more answers. “Come. We need to keep moving.”

“Why?” Horus asked, refusing to continue following as the wolf turned again.

The wolf huffed, “Both he and I have the same amount of power in this space. I was only able to pull you away because he did not know I was here. Now he does, so it will be much harder to escape if he finds us again.”

“And why should I trust you?” Horus demanded. “You haven’t even told me your name, and you expect me to trust your word over his?”

For a moment the wolf seemed to hesitate. “Call me Cerberus,” he said at last. “It is as good a name as any.”

Horus frowned, unhappy with the half-truth but sensing Cerberus would not be any more forthcoming. He stepped forwards, and the two continued walking down the empty street.

Cerberus’s head did indeed come up to Horus’s chest, making him far larger than an actual wolf would be. Horus took a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Is this world a lie, then?” he asked.

“What did he tell you?” was infuriating the non-answer.

“That this was the future if things were not changed,” Horus explained. “Where the Emperor is revered as a god as he always wished, and those of us who did not accept this were erased from history.”

Cerberus snorted, which was an interesting sound coming from the fanged snout. “Of course, he appealed to your insecurities and your hubris all at once,” the wolf mused. “This world is the future, yes.”

Horus felt his anger rise again. “How dare He,” he snarled. “All those pretty words and promises, just to throw us away like-!”

“Think, you fool!” Cerberus snapped jaws full of far too many needlepoint teeth at him and Horus jerked his wrist away, startled out of his anger. “You may not overly enjoy politics, but you have the head for them! All good lies have a root of truth.”

“This is the future, yes, but what the Hand neglected to tell you is that this is the future that he is trying to push you towards,” Cerberus continued. “A future where the God Emperor protects all mankind from the horrors of the Warp, and the xenos that threaten them.”

Horus took a moment to reflect on the words; he had so many questions, but each answer only seemed to form five more.

“What caused my father to change his ideals so?” He settled on asking first. “He so staunchly refuses to be seen as a god now, he lectured Lorgar so thoroughly on the subject. And now he has shrine planets?”

“The Emperor did not have a say in the matter.”

Horus snorted, “The Emperor, beloved by all, leader of all mankind, had no say?”

“The Emperor is dead.”

Horus felt the world fall out beneath his feet. He stopped, trying not to lose himself to the hollow, aching feeling roaring in his chest.

“What?” Horus asked weakly.

Cerberus stopped, gray eyes full of sorrow. He turned, nudging his massive head under one of Horus’s hands, and the Warmaster dug his fingers into the warm fur. The sensation helped ground him, and he felt his hearts begin to slow.

“If the Hand succeeds here,” Cerberus said quietly, “You are turned so wholly against your father that you turned your back on the Imperium of Man. You, and eight more of your brother Primarchs start a civil war to gain control of the empire, and defeat your father. It does not end well for anyone.”

Horus felt his horror grow with each word.

“My brothers and I, missing from the statue…” he dared to ask.

Cerberus nodded under his hand, “The Heretics who tore the empire apart, and killed the beloved Emperor.”

Horus did not realize how tight his grip had gotten in his companion's fur until Cerberus let out a small whine. He immediately released the fur between his fingers, gently scratching the area in apology.

“Where am I, in this horrible future?” the Warmaster asked after a moment.

“Dead as well,” Cerberus responded bluntly. “You and the Emperor traded each other final blows. With your death, the rebellion lost its spearhead and retreated to the warp. But that was not the end to the fighting."

Horus took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. When that didn’t work he tried another.

“Why is that man trying to bring this future to light?” Horus asked, trying to focus on anything other than the hollowness in his chest. “What could he possibly stand to gain?”

He could feel Cerberus hesitate, and he ran his hand down the side of the wolfs head to scratch under his chin.

“You have already thrown this much at me,” Horus said humorlessly. “No point in holding back now.”

Cerberus glared at him, clearly fighting to show how much he enjoyed the scratching. The wolf tore his head away from the Warmaster’s nimble fingers and continued forwards.

“Come on then,” he said urging Horus to follow. “It will be easier to show you.”

They walked through the town for a while occasionally taking turns onto different streets, but they did not pass another person. Eventually Cerberus ducked into an open doorway, and Horus had to stoop to follow. When he straightened again, he knew they were no longer on the shrine world.

He found himself in a colossal laboratory, its cavernous walls formed of white steel and silver panels. The air tasted sterile, and Horus could tell that the temperature of the air was close to freezing. Hundreds of figures encased in fully enclosed white oversuits with reflective gold visors filled the laboratory, working at row upon row of humming gold machines that sat atop long, steel benches.

Hissing puffs of vapour feathered the air above each worker’s head, and long tubes coiled around the legs and arms of the white suits before hooking into cumbersome looking backpacks. Though no words were spoken, a sense of the implementation of grand designs was palpable. Horus wandered through the facility, its inhabitants ignoring him as completely as those of the shrine world had. Instinctively, he knew that he and Cerberus were far beneath the surface of whatever world they had travelled to.

“What is this place?” Horus asked, eyes scanning the room, trying to decipher just what everyone was doing.

“Under Terra,” Cerberus replied. “In the Emperor’s private labs under the Himalayans.”

“Why here?” Horus asked again.

Cerberus turned to look at the far side of the room. “This is where it begins,” he answered, and Horus followed his gaze.

On the far wall of the laboratory where a shimmering energy field protected a huge silver steel door. The sign of the aquila was etched into the metal, along with strange, mystical looking symbols that were out of place in a laboratory dedicated to the pursuit of science. Just looking at the door made Horus uneasy, as though he knew he would not like what waited for them behind it.

Cerberus led him through the room, easily sidestepping the scientists rushing around them. All too soon they were standing before the door, shimmering with power.

“What do you know of the warp?” Cerberus asked suddenly.

Horus blinked, “It is a rift in space, one that the Imperium uses to travel across the galaxy.”

“And what of what lives in the warp?” Cerberus pressed.

"Not as much as I would like," Horus admitted. "They are not life forms as we understand the term. They are not organic. They are extra-dimensional, and they influence our reality in ways that seem sorcerous to us. Supernatural, if you will. But they are not thoughtful or methodical, and there is no great controlling force above them."

“The Imperial Truth,” Cerberus said carefully, “Is a lie.”

“I think that may be the least shocking thing you have said to me so far,” Horus remarked, and Cerberus barked a laugh.

“The Emperor created and spread the Imperial Truth because he believed it to be the best way to counter the Ruinous Powers of the warp,” the wolf explained. “There are four so named ‘Gods of Chaos’ that reside in the warp. Under them are an uncountable number of horrors that spread chaos and terror in their name. The Emperor believed that he could starve them of believers and weaken them.”

Cerberus laughed, bitter and harsh, “But the Emperor, as knowledgeable as he is, misunderstood how Chaos works. One does not have to know Khorn’s name for the blood you spill to feed his hunger. You do not have to worship Nurgle for your pox-ridden corpse to fertilize his garden.”

Horus’s eyes narrowed, “Nurgleth?”

“One of his names, yes,” Cerberus agreed. “Eugen Temba fell to the promise of power the God of Decay offered him, but no power comes without cost.”

“I could see Eugen,” Horus closed his eyes, thinking back to the fight. “In flashes; he was screaming.”

“It is a horrendous thing, to be the soul of a deamon,” Cerberus said solemnly. “But by killing him, you have freed him from that. The Hand is one of their agents, seeking to topple the Imperium in exchange for his own power.”

Horus opened his eyes again, staring at the doorway in front of them. The markings rippled and swirled across its surface.

"What is behind this door?" he asked.

"Answers to questions you do not wish to ask, but you must know anyway," Cerberus replied.

"Very well," Horus said. "Show me."

Beyond the doorway and the icy corridor behind it lead to another great chamber, about half the size of the lab they had just left behind. Its walls were pristine and sterile, and it was empty of technicians and scientists. The floor was smooth concrete and the temperature cool rather than cold.

A raised central walkway ran the length of the chamber with ten large cylindrical tanks the size of boarding torpedoes lying flat to either side of it, long serial numbers stenciled on their flanks. Steam gusted from the top of each tank like breath. Beneath the serial numbers were the same mystical symbols he had seen on the door leading to this place.

"What is this room?" Horus stepped towards one of the tanks, inspecting the runes carved along it's sides.

"Where you were made," Cerberus said.

Horus turned to look at him, "I was raised on Cthonia." The warmaster replied tersely.

"Raised yes," Cerberus countered. "But you and your brothers were created in these rooms. The Ruinous Powers swept you from here and scattered you across the galaxy, attempting to stop the Emperor's plans."

"And what plans were those?" Horus turned back towards the tank and ran a gauntlet over the window, peering inside.

"I will not lie to you and tell you the Emperor's intentions were wholly altruistic when he started the Primarch Project," Cerberus's voice brought Horus back to reality. The wolf was sitting in the center of the room, staring at him with somber eyes.

"He created you to stand at his side, to help unite and then rule all of humanity under one banner. You were to be his finest soldiers, and those he could trust most to spread his will." Here Cerberus hesitated, "You know that your father does not see you as most men see their children."

"We are not most men, or most children," Horus said ruefully. "We were wholly grown when our father found us again. I know he cares for us. I am just… unsure of how far it extends. I have been less sure, since Ullanor."

"He created these rooms, these wards to try and protect you from the warp and the beings within," Cerberus said. "This was supposed to be the safest place in the galaxy, where he could raise you all together to be his perfect warriors."

"How did these 'chaos gods' manage to whisk us away?" Horus asked. "I do not know how to read them, but even I can see these are powerful workings."

"Sabotage," Cerberus said bitterly. "Your father is a prideful man; he did not account for people to betray him. Worshipers of chaos infiltrated his palace and destroyed the wards. It only took a moment, and you were gone."

Horus looked around again, at each tank, wondering which of his brothers were here with him.

"What was the point of this?" Horus looked to Cerberus. "Why show me this place?"

"The Emperor is wise, but he is still a man," Cerberus replied. "You have questions for him. Why he made you Warmaster. Why he left the front to return to Terra. There are some decisions he has made that you believe were foolish." Cerberus stood and walked forwards until he was directly in front of Horus. "You are a big boy now," the wolf said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Go and talk to him."

"What?" Horus asked, aghast.

"The Emperor left you in charge of his armies, and his Great Crusade," Cerberus said patiently. "He trusts you in almost all things. Almost, because for as long as he has lived he has many secrets he will not share with anyone. But one of the greatest failings of the Empire was the inability for its leaders to just talk to one another. So much could have been avoided…"

"And what about you?" Horus threw back. Cerberus tilted his head, a surprisingly endearing gesture. He continued, "You've explained why the Hand is trying to turn me against the Emperor, but what of you? What is your stake in this wretched game?"

Cerberus straightened and started at him for a long moment, and Horus could not read his expression.

"…I am a loyal son of Cthonia," he said at last. "Trying to save his father from damnation."

Horus stared into those gray eyes, eyes he had seen on the face of so many of his sons, and for the first time since he had woken in this nightmare felt the urge to weep.

"Oh, my son," Horus reached out cupping Cerberus's face between his hands. "Oh, what horrors have you seen? What pain have I put you through?"

Cerberus whined, eyes shut as he dropped his head. Horus pressed his forehead against his son's.

"I am afraid I must ask you to make an impossible choice," Cerberus whispered. "The Hand orchestrated a great plot to bring you here; your body is dying in the material realm. He tricked the lodge into brining you to a temple on Davin, into the hands of Chaos worshippers, in a desperate ploy to try and heal you."

"So I either bend the knee to these Gods of Chaos, be healed and bring the empire to ruin," Horus began, "or deny them and die on this planet?"

"I am sorry," Cerberus nuzzled his head against his father's, though he was unsure which of them he was trying to bring comfort.

Horus ran one hand down the back of the wolf's head, scratching lightly through the tawny fur. Cerberus leaned into the touch, but then pulled back and turned to stare at the door.

"What is it?" Horus asked, pulling back.

"He has found us," Cerberus hissed, standing again with his hackles raised.

Horus looked at the pod, at the eyes staring out at him through the viewing port, and then back to Cerberus.

"Can you hide?" he asked, and Cerberus turned to him confused. "I wish to speak to him again," Horus clarified. "I wish to see how he plays his hand."

Cerberus hesitated, clearly torn. Horus ran a hand over the wolf's ears and chuckled, "I must ask you to trust me in this, my son, as you are trusting me to make the right decision."

Cerberus stared into his eyes for a long moment, nodded, than turned and vanished into the air. Barely a moment later the doors swung open, and the man wearing Hastur Sejanus's face burst in.

Horus felt as if Erebus and Magnus were playing a vicious game of tug-of-war with his soul, pulling him in either direction as they plied for his attention. The pressure was unbearable, and he knew that his decision here would set the course of the future of humanity. Did he not already have enough to deal with? Was the title of Warmaster and the leadership if the Great Crusade not pressure enough?

"Be quiet," snarled Horus. "The both of you. You will not manipulate me like this, for I am Horus. I am the Warmaster!"

One was his brother, the other a warrior he had counted as a valued counsellor and devoted follower. He had sorely misjudged them both.

"I can trust neither of you," he said. "You both believe me to be naïve, that you can sway me with pretty words and I will not stand for it."

Erebus stepped towards him with his hands outstretched in supplication. "You should know that I came to you at the behest of my lord and master, Lorgar. He already has knowledge of the Emperor’s quest to ascend to godhood, and has sworn himself to the powers of the warp. When the Emperor rejected Lorgar’s worship, he found other gods all too willing to accept his devotion. My Primarch’s power has grown tenfold and it is but a fraction of the power that could be yours were you to pledge yourself to their cause,"

"He lies!" cried Magnus. "Lorgar is loyal. He would never turn against the Emperor."

Horus listened to Erebus’s words and knew with utter certainty that he spoke the truth. But the screaming visage of Eugen Temba flashed before his eyes, and he knew that such power would come with a great ad terrible cost.

“And what say you?” Horus looked past them both. Both turned, confusion evident on their faces and Horus greatly enjoyed the twin looks of shock they wore at the sight of the great blond wolf sitting behind them.

“Lorgar Aurelion’s homeworld put great emphasis on religion,” Cerberus responded. “When the Emperor landed on the planet in search of his son, Lorgar was sure he had found his true god. When the Emperor later turned around and scolded him for his worship, going as far as to destroy his most cherished city… Lorgar felt his purpose was lost.”

“How dare you!” Magnus growled, hands sparking again.

“Who are you?” Erebus demanded.

Cerberus ignored them both.

“When the Ruinous Powers offered him what he so desired, someone to worship and uplift him for his piety, he accepted readily,” Cerberus continues. “And, just as Erebus is attempting to do here, they led him to believe their cause was for the betterment of mankind, and the Emperor wanted their ruin.”

“Lorgar was so easily deceived?” Horus questioned.

“My brother!” Magnus said aghast. “You truly believe this warp-creature’s words?”

“I love Lorgar dearly, Magnus,” Horus turned to his cyclopean brother. “But you know as well as I how hard he took our father’s rebuke. If these warp gods are as seductive as I have been warned, I can understand how he may have found comfort in their words.”

Erebus did not take his gaze off the wolf. “Who are you?” he demanded again. “Why are you here? No one should have been able to breach the wards on this place without great effort, and unlike Magnus I feel no thralls tethered to you.”

Cerberus glanced at the Word Bearer, then away dismissively.

Erebus’s face turned apoplectic at the slight, and Horus had to bite his tongue to avoid laughing.

“That is enough from both of you,” Horus said, schooling his features. “I have heard all I need to; my decision is made. Magnus, you have violated the Edict of Nikea, and your arrogance will be your undoing. You have always believed that you knew better than everyone else, and that you were above rebuke. You are done here.”

"Horus, please!" cried Magnus, his voice taking on a ghostly quality as his image began to fade. "You cannot do this terrible thing, or all we have fought for will be cast to ruin forever!"

“My lord,” Erebus’s face was hopeful. “I promise you, you will not regret this decision.”

Horus turned and regarded Erebus with a passive face. He held the look just long enough for the First Chaplain to start shifting uncomfortably, hope fading into confusion.

“My lord?” Erebus asked hesitantly, and Horus smiled.

“Begone, Erebus,” Horus said. “And hope I do not find a way to drag you into the afterlife with me.”

Erebus’s face went slack with shock, the look unbecoming on an Astartes face. He opened his mouth to speak, but in that moment reality shifted just enough that Erebus’s form twisted and vanished before his eyes.

Horus turned to Cerberus, who sat there the picture of innocence with only the gleam of mischief in his eyes betraying his involvement.

“I thought you had equal power here,” Horus asked, a smile gracing his face.

“We do,” Cerberus admitted. “But he was so wrongfooted it wasn’t too much trouble to root him out in that moment." The wolf's face darkened, "I only wish I could have done more to him, but I could not risk him regathering his strength and fighting me off."

"I can imagine why you have a hatred for him," Horus remarked. "But is there something more to it than his orchestration of my corruption?"

Cerberus paused, ears pressed back against his skull, clearly torn. "I have a personal vendetta with Erebus," he admitted. "But do not ask me what it is. I am not ready to share it."

"Very well," Horus said, rubbing a hand down Cerberus's neck. "I shall not ask you now. But I hope one day you will be willing to share the story with me."

Cerberus did not answer, and Horus took the lack of denial as a step in the right direction.

"Now, though, we face a crossroads," Horus continued. Cerberus looked at him confused. "You asked me to not accept the Chaos Gods' power, which leads to my corruption. But I cannot die here, my son. You have shown me the dangers that lie in the warp; dangers my father has left the Imperium open to due to arrogance of his own. I cannot accept death if I know that I will leave my beloved empire vulnerable to such things."

Cerberus looked as him with sad eyes, pressing his head further into Horus's hand. "I do not know of another option," he said. "The poison that is corroding your body is a curse of Nurgle's; I do not have the power to break it."

As soon as the sentence was finished he felt Cerberus go stiff under his hand. The great wolf pulled back, a calculating gleam in his eyes as he regarded the Warmaster.

"What plan have you concocted my son?" Horus asked him, smile growing on his lips.

"I am not a God of Chaos," Cerberus began. "But I am a powerful demon in my own right. I cannot break Nurgle's curse, but I may be able to�� contain it, with a curse of my own."

"For how long?" Horus felt his pulse quicken at this chance.

"If it works, for as long as you need," Cerberus replied, tail beginning to wag. In any other circumstance, Horus would have delighted to tease his son of this.

"What do you need me to do?" Horus asked and Cerberus stood. He drew up to his full height, then kept going.

The wolf grew larger, limbs creaking as they shifted and grew, joints snapping as they bent. In but a moment the great wolf before him changed to a bipedal creature that would not look out of place in one of Leman's stories from Fenris.

"I must ask you to trust me," Cerberus's voice was deeper, with a rumbling sound underlining the words. Horus nodded, body relaxing as he closed his eyes.

He did not see the daemon lean down, or open his massive jaws, but he certainly felt teeth that bit into the meat of his shoulder where it met his neck-

And the world around them s h a t t e r e d

The Sons of Horus assembled before the gates of the Delphos were tense, every second feeling like an eternity as they waited to learn the fate of their beloved father. A thunderous boom filled the night, and Loken felt his pulse quicken as a dark line appeared in the center of the gate. All other noise stopped, as if the universe itself was holding its breath in respect for this moment.

Loken's entire existence shrank down to the growing darkness between the temple doors, watching intently for any sign of life behind them. The gates swung fully open and he risked a glance at his fellow Sons of Horus, seeing the same desperate hope in each of their faces.

Not a single sound disturbed the night, and Loken felt despair rise within him as he realized that this must simply be the automated opening of the temple doors.

The Warmaster was dead.

Loken felt the sudden urge to cry, head sinking low to his chest as he fought to keep the tears at bay; despite his protests as the use of such magics, some small part of him had latched onto the hope that this might work, that their father might be returned to them.

Then he heard the sound of footsteps, and looked up to see the gleam of white and gold plate emerge from the darkness. Horus strode from the Delphos with his cloak of royal purple billowing behind him, his face a strange mixture of resignation and determination. The look changed to joy as he saw his sons waiting for him.

The eye in the center of his breastplate blazed a fiery red and the laurels at his forehead framed features that were beautiful and terrible in their magnificence.

The Warmaster stood before them, unbowed and more vital than ever, the sheer physicality of his presence robbing every one of them of speech.

Horus smiled and said, “You are a sight for sore eyes, my sons.”

Torgaddon punched the air in elation and shouted, “Lupercal!”

He laughed and ran towards the Warmaster, breaking the spell that had fallen on the rest of them.

The Mournival rushed to this reunion with their lord and master, joyous cries of “Lupercal!” erupting from the throat of every Astartes warrior as they embraced one another, relief palpable in the air. It was a miracle!

Loken stepped back, tears now running freely down his face as the emotions warred within his heart. What a fool he had been, to doubt them. Their father was returned to them, whole and hale and sureley such a miracle could not be wrong.

A noise from the darkness caught his attention, and he turned back to the still open gates of the Delphos and peered into the darkness. He could just barely make out a shape inside, and instinctively his hand went to the hilt of his sword.

"Sir?" he said, and Horus and his sons looked up from their heartfelt reunion at his call. Puzzled, Horus followed his gaze into the darkness, searching for what had set the captain on edge. Then he smiled.

"My sons," Horus said, standing back to his full height. "My time within the Delphos has been… illuminating for me. My eyes have been opened to great truths, and while the spirits have allowed my return they have shown me that there are terrible trials ahead. They will be greater than anything we have yet experienced, and we will need to stand strong in the face of this new adversary. But we will not face them alone."

Horus reached a hand out towards the darkness, and Loken tensed despite himself as the figure moved towards them. The shape came into focus as it passed through the gate, fur shining in the firelight of the torches as the great blond wolf pressed its head into the Warmaster's hand.

"This is Cerberus," Horus told them, fingers scratching lightly along the beast's head. Loken was startled to realize that standing erect, the creature was at eyelevel with him. It was massive, and that was saying something coming from an Astartes.

"He is my guide, and will help us navigate the dangerous waters of the future ahead of us," Horus continued, ignoring the wide eyed looks his sons were exchanging. "Now, what has happened while I was ill?"

As the Sons of Horus filled their Primarch in on what had been happening since his injury on Davin's moon, Loken could not help his gaze straying back towards the wolf. It sat neatly at Horus's side, as if it were nothing more than a trained pet waiting for its master's orders. Something about the beast unsettled him.

As if sensing his thoughts Cerberus turned and met his gaze. Loken felt as if the wolf's eyes were seeing through him, striping him bare and judging his soul. He quickly looked away, heart pounding in his ears as he fought to keep his face neutral.

Loken hoped that he had not been right after all.

#the man beside you au #horus heresy au #wh40k #fanfiction #warhammer 40k

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sternenschaukler · 8 days ago

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Shout out to this absolutely badass genderqueer woman(?) from the 1880s 🫡

Excerpt from "The Transvestites, part 1" (1910) by Magnus Hirschfeld: [full translation of parts 1, 2 & 3 here]

Case 15:

A few years ago a young house-painter was arrested in a building in East Berlin. A man who maintained that his wife committed adultery with this painter pressed charges against him. To everyone's surprise, especially to the jealous husband and his wife, police investigations showed that the suspect did not belong to the male sex at all, but rather was a female, whereupon she was released.

The case was reported in all the Berlin newspapers. My deceased colleague, Mr. Lubowski, M.D., in Charlottenburg, was acquainted with this person in his practice, took a lively interest in her case, and brought her to me. Unfortunately, she disappeared out of our sight a few months later. Her accounts and notes, which basically impressed us as thoroughly credible, were verified by her and others as well as by a group photograph, which shows her as a sailor on the deck of a ship, are summarized in the following:

Helene N. was born in Berlin in 1880. When we met her she was 27 years of age. Her father had died of appendicitis. Her mother is living and is healthy. She has two brothers, the older 29, the younger 25, years of age, both healthy and apparently normal.

As a child she was very wild, took a lively interest in the boys' games of Indians and soldiers. Now we will allow her to report herself:

"I cannot report about anything of much importance from my childhood, only that I had the one burning desire that I really was a boy. I often blamed my dear father because I was not a boy, but what could the poor man do? My dear parents made every possible effort to make me into a quiet, gentle being.

At age 14 they sent me to a priest in a boarding house so that I would become domesticated, homely, in short, a patient sheep. But it failed totally. After three months I disappeared through a window. Not because I committed a crime, but rather because the priest had had the audacity to give me a box in the ears and for what? Only because we were having a bit of fun, and when he was away, we danced. Of course, I was the one who incited it. We were, that is to say, nine boarders and we were supposed to do as we were told. But what did such a country priest know about Berlin blood? Well, I made it clear to him many times he should not try to hit a Berliner but continue to pick his country oranges.

So, one night when it was foggy, I went out the window and slid down the gutter to the ground floor. Prior to that I had given my things to a miller's hand and now my life began. I was free and clear. The world was open to me. I thought about how I was going see it properly. My girls clothing was uncomfortable, so I put on men's clothing. My burning desire was fulfilled, even if not to the degree I desired, but no one except me knew that I was a girl.

First I went through the Harz Mountains, from one place to another. I overcame some obstacles well, others badly, got some jobs, which at first were difficult for me. But because I was tall and strong, I soon became accustomed to it. Finally I took a position in a coal mine. I liked the life of a coal miner right well, but I soon noticed that it was dangerous work for my health, so I had to quit my job after six weeks, which disappointed me, because I wanted to learn a bit more about the life of a coal miner.

But it did not work out, because my co-workers would have found out that I was a woman, because I was afraid that at anytime I would faint in the suffocating air. Then it would have been too late. Then they would have wondered what I was doing and would not have believed me that I was doing it as an adventure, going around cross-dressed as a man. Then the good life would have been over, and it was really just now beginning.

From Maegdesprung I went to Nordhausen, after having waltzed through various places. I stayed there and worked for a lock-and-key works. To be sure, I had no idea of anything about this kind of craft, but need breaks iron. I introduced myself as a lock-and-key smith because it was the season and there was a demand for workers. The master did not ask me for papers and sent me as a helper to Bauten. I found everything there to my liking and stayed there three months.

Only one thing I did not like was that I had to connect and do a lot with my coworkers, also go dancing with them. The others wondered why I did not have a wife as they did and helped me to get one. She was a very pretty young woman, but in my mind I thought what should I do with her, because a young woman will certainly want to be kissed, and I still was not sure of myself at the time.

But there was nothing else for me to do. Then came the worst: she began talking about becoming engaged. I knew my last hour had come. So, in short, I suddenly left my very good-paying job to wander farther.

Of course, it was not right for me to leave the young woman in the lurch, but there was nothing I could do. I certainly could not have married her, and so, I went away until I finally arrived in Kassel.

I still had enough money to get a nice room at a guest house until I could find my own place. First I got a job where I had to go around with a hand cart. I did not like that, so I worked there for merely three weeks, then I tried it as a butler, but had the misfortune of having to share a room, so that here, too, my stay was no longer than a month.

Then I took a position as a shampooer at a hairdresser's shop, where I stayed for two months. I could not stand it any longer, because my hands were broken out all over because of the moisture. When I saw that I was having no luck in Kassel, I wrote to my mother that I would be coming home, packed my few things, and disappeared, after I had arranged for my women's clothing to be sent from Ballenstedt, where I had left them for safekeeping.

Before leaving I, for the first time in a long time, put on women's clothing again, because my parents were not to know anything However, hardly was I home a week when I began to get very bored again. I tormented my mother. She should let me learn ironing by machine and by hand, which she did, thinking thereby that she could chain me to Berlin, because I was really her only daughter.

But when I finished school, my teacher came to me and asked if I wanted to earn a lot of money. I could take a job in Norway. No one could have been happier than I because I was suffocating at home, so I said I was ready right then. That very evening I traveled from the Stettin train station to Warnemuende and from there to Sweden by steamer, and on by train. "My dear mother and my father were not too surprised when I told them that I wanted to go traveling again. But I did not tell them where I was going, because they would not have let me leave. Also, it was only fourteen days before Christmas. But what did these trivial matters and concerns mean to me? I left.

I felt a bit funny traveling alone that night, but I felt better after I got some sleep. When I woke up that morning and was boarded on the steamer in Warnemuende, and for the first time saw the waves of the sea, I was very happy. Finally we stopped in Malmoe long enough for me to look around. I had enough money, because my boss gave me one hundred marks for the trip when I was in Berlin. But when we arrived in Christiania, I noticed that it really was not so easy as I had thought, because I could not speak a word of Norwegian. Also, no one came to pick me up, because my future boss believed I was to arrive much later.

If I had not had a letter that had the address on it I do not know what I would have done. So, I showed the address to the coachman, and then I went on from there. Oh, how much snow and ice there was, because it was right in the middle of winter, and a Norwegian winter is not the same without them. "So, now I was a young female worker in the ironing business in Christiania. I could make myself understood to no one and, since most of the others were older than I and found nothing to like about me because they mistrusted foreigners, the first four weeks were very difficult, but then I got used to it.

But then my life got too cramped, and because I earned a lot of money, I did not hold out for an entire year. I was again overcome by wanderlust, and I traveled to Drontheim. But I did not want to start another life there in a laundry, so, get dressed straightway in men's clothing and off we go!

First I looked for good lodgings, which I got right away, because a person is relatively much more welcome as a gentleman than as a lady. Then it was time to look for some occupation. I was lucky and found work at a barber's, first again as a soap person. But I was already bolder and also tried shaving. It went without a complaint. I stayed there four months because I liked it there in Trommen. Also, I had a nice young woman as a friend, the daughter of the prison warden. I spent a lot of time with her, because she liked me, and I have to confess I liked her, too. But, unfortunately, both of our dreams soon came to an end, because a co-worker found out about my secret and betrayed me.

I had to go to the local police chief, who was very interested in the matter. My friend, too, found out about everything, but she was not angry with me, as I at first thought she would, but rather became a better friend. Even up to the present we are still friends. I now became acquainted with her parents, because the police chief housed me there. He said he wanted to keep me as a detective, an offer I encountered several times on my later wanderings.

But all promises were broken. I got the urge to move on, and so I traveled to Randefjord, a sad nest. I did not stay there long and went on to Skien; stayed there a mere two months working for a company that made safes. The transporting of the safes was a little too heavy, but not the other work. Well, I went to Christiansund; I had better luck there, got work in a machine shop, and stayed there from February until July. There, too, I got a nice girl friend, because in the Bible it says: it is not good to be alone. Also, I had no desire to pal around with my co-workers, because most of them were older, married men, and the unmarried ones were not nice, so it was best that I connected with a young woman again.

But, when summer arrived and the sun smiled into the dampnshop, I could no longer stand it. I quickly tied up my bundle. I had already heard a lot about whaling, dreamed about it during the day, and, as I now read in the newspaper that they were looking for young, diligent fellows for whaling, I betook myself to Arendal. I reported to a seaman's agency and got on a whaling boat. Oh, what a miserable crate that was! There were eight men penned up in one cabin for the crew. But I did not care. I really wanted to learn about whaling.

On July 26 we sailed. The sun was shining brightly in Arendal, but, when we had been on our way for fourteen days, we got into the middle of a hard winter. For a change we once froze solidly in the icy sea for eight days. We could no longer wash or clean ourselves at all because of the cold. We finally were able to do some catching. We were lucky, bagged many whales, and everything would have been great if the lice had not tormented us so. There is one thing I can say. A person cannot get nauseous on such a whaling ship.

We soon ran out of fresh meat, and so we went off hunting reindeer. If ever there was a meat I liked, it was that reindeer meat and the pork we roasted. Our captain also slew a polar bear. So, life would have been splendid if only it had not been so cold and so terribly dirty.

It is hard to describe what I had to put up with at that time, and still there was the anxiety that my sex would be discovered. In spring we returned home. I was truly hit by homesickness. Since I had money I got myself completely new things and traveled to Germany.

Of course, I did not pay, but rather I worked my way over to Hamburg as a steward. Since I had already been on a ship, I wanted to take advantage of that, too, and save the money.

So, again I arrived in Berlin. I did not say too much about my experiences, because if my parents had known about everything, they never would have let me leave again. But, people being who they are, I was home merely four weeks when I already got the urge to go to Schildhorn. I was so drawn by the water that I could no longer stand it, and in October I hurried away.

I looked for someone to hire me, and I found a job in London. The trip was free, but I had to sign a contract for two years. I did this, but at the same time I had the thought of freeing myself again as quickly as possible. The main thing was that I got away; the other thing will soon be revealed.

So, I moved from there happily, gaily went to Hamburg, and from there to London on a stormy voyage on the sea. But then something happened that I will never forget in my life. I met there, where I was supposed to get a position, the fiancee I snubbed in the Harz Mountains, the same one I had escaped from shortly before I was supposed to become engaged to her. I met her there as the lady of the house. She recognized me in spite of the women's clothing, and so I now had to explain everything.

With her agreement we broke the contract, and I took a position in an English resort, Scarborough, as a room inspector, where I stayed for the season. But I could not stand being in women's clothing any longer, and one day, when I heard that there was a ship in England whose personnel consisted only of women and was also managed by women, I could not stand it. I thought, whatever they can do, I can do better, but I did not want to be a woman, and so, I then went back to London. I got myself men's clothing and turned my thoughts toward my goal of going as soon as possible to a school for helmsmen. And I did.

I fought my way through for six months, giving lessons in German and writing correspondence. In April I passed my exams and went looking for a suitable job. The opportunity soon appeared for a fourth helmsman on an English steamer. I took it and went sailing for a year. First to Japan (Yokohama), from there to Brazil (Rio de Janeiro), from there to North America (San Francisco) and from there to Hamburg, where I got paid off because I got homesick.

Hamburg is a pretty little city, but I wished I had never seen it at the time, because it was there that I met my husband and committed the gross stupidity of getting married.

At first everything went very well. I suppressed my wanderlust, just for the sake of the child; but when my husband became thoughtless, I gave my child to my mother and went away. So that my husband would not find me, I again got men's clothing and since I did not feel as strong as I used to be to work as a locksmith, I became a painter, which I had learned a little about aboard ship.

I was pretty successful at it. I went to Frankfurt-on-Oder, worked there for three months, then to Kuestrin, stayed there four months, but then work ran out because it became too cold.

Then I started up in Kuestrin-Neustadt in a potato flour factory, which was hard, but I had to do it, at least through the winter. In spring I got an order for military enlistment. The staff physician would have been really happy to see me if I were to report, so I thought it better that I retire and quickly stuck myself again into women's clothing. Otherwise, who knows what kind of a sensation might have been mused, because, in such a small city, the people are somewhat limited. They never could have imagined such a thing existed anywhere on this earth.

So, without warning I returned to Berlin, but I could not stand it at home being a thorough woman doing domestic work. I rented an apartment and, in men's clothing, looked for work as a painter. And I did find a job, earned a lot of money, but again began the craziness of looking for a fiancee. This time my choice fell upon a married woman who was separated from her husband and lived with her mother.

Everything went well and good for six weeks. But, one day, while we were painting the front of a house, and while I was sitting high on the scaffold, I was called on by the police. 'What now,' I say to myself. This had never happened to me before. I had not done anything wrong as far as I knew. I was taken to the police station on the Alexanderplatz, where an officer said to me, 'Well, my little one, you'll find out.' I became more curious, and finally heard that I had been accused of adultery. The husband of my so-called fiancee had become jealous and reported that I was committing adultery with his wife. But I told them that they could believe me that it was not true, that I would not know how to begin such a thing; in short, I was innocent, and the husband had to go away disappointed.

Because of that I let my job slip through neglect, threw in the towel because I lost the desire to continue, but soon after began working in a factory that made medical instruments. I stayed there for a while, but Berlin got boring again, and I went out into the world.

First I got a job as a traveling painter in Mecklenburg and finally ended up in Hamburg, where I again put on women's clothing, because they were looking for a stewardess. I signed on and sailed to the Orient. Then I got paid off in Hamburg and went as a stewardess on a West African Woermann steamer, destination Duala. There were trips on an East African ship, which went to Zanzibar. Then I got bored, got paid off, and went home to my mother, where I made firm plans to stay. But I think my mother would have had to put me in irons. I would have wanted to travel and would have parted again."

Present status: Helene N. is average size; the lines of her body, especially her upper arms and upper thighs, are more sloped than round. Hands and feet rather strong; walk firm and quick; well-developed muscles; skin smooth; breasts small; areolae of the nipples large and dark. There exists no anomalies of the external formation of the genitals. Beard fluff not present. The dark-brown hair of the head is kept short. Larynx does not protrude; average voice, not high. She smokes and drinks quite a lot, tolerates both well; her character shows a remarkable mixture of iron will and strong inconsistency; she really loves physical labor and every kind of sport.

Clothing, which is female at the moment, is markedly simple. Every ornamentation, which is odious to her, is lacking. Whenever she is in men's clothing or at least wearing a man's hat, tie, underwear, and boots, she feels light, happy, and able to work; in women's clothing, constrained and in bondage. She has a special preference for the color blue, which is, in fact, connected with her tendency for sailors' work. Her intelligence is good and lively, actually exceptional when one considers her simple origins and her education.

When asked what famous person particularly interests her, she answered promptly, "Wagner." With regards to her sex life she says that her drive changes between both sexes; her dreams certainly did include women, where she then felt totally as a man. But her men were not sexually disagreeable. On the whole, any driving sexual urge appears to be rather weak. At least, it totally diminishes behind her burning wish to be a man, to go as a man, and to live as a man.

But, at the same time, she is totally clear on the fact that she is a woman. She loves her children very much, and she can get along with her husband, but she looks upon marriage itself as a fetter. She has often regretted getting married.

#lgbtqia #trans literature #queer history #long post #15 pages #genderqueer #transgender #biography #transmasc #crossdresser #trans research #bisexual #feminism #maybe aspec #posts

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halothenthehorns · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1: I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

And so it begins, the book you've all been waiting for...mostly (Looking at you HoH, we'll get there when we get there.)

PJOPJOPJOPJO

Jason didn't mean to overhear, but he was walking past an open door tossing cornnuts into his mouth so he got a shoddy reception of an answer to a question he hadn't thought to ask.

"- so the counters keep track of health, for both monsters and gods characters. And a second set tracks attack points-"

Something about that excited voice nagged in Jason's mind. It was more of a feeling than a memory, something that glitched in and out of his mind to fast to understand the impression of someone once saying this to him, but he turned about and poked his head into the door on instinct to hear more.

"-and the counters have two sides, different colours. You can choose a colour for the game, so everyone knows whose pieces belong to who. There are tons of options, because people like to buy them to match their deck's theme-"

"Do they have them in tie-dye?" Jason found his mouth moving on autopilot, an old joke he was suddenly sure he'd made once before. "Just in case you can't pick a color?"

Nico startled, his deck fleeing from his hand in a cascade, a wolf card landing near Jason's shoe. Will looked up, completely unabashed, and smiled. "I bet we can make our own. I'm all for getting creative with it."

"How about we actually get through a full game before you start trying to invent your own rules," Nico told him in exasperation as he shuffled around, rotating his hips and his bum to try and snatch them back. Then he turned to Jason, an obvious flush to his cheeks as he glanced around at their set up, then a stubborn set to his jaw as he met his eyes like he was waiting for something.

"Can I play?" Jason asked.

That clearly was not what Nico had been expecting, and his jaw went slack, along with his hands were his cards scattered again.

Will pursed his lips, his eyes darting between them, but Jason didn't have time to worry what that hesitation could be about as Nico gave a weary, but pleasant smile. "Yeah."

...

Magnus and Alex's dinner lay in a chair forgotten as they sat laughing and practicing with each other.

"No, you're using your fingers to much," Magnus gently corrected, showing her again slower. "It's just your palm, angle lower."

She tried again with a look of curious concentration.

"Perfect!" Magnus signed and said. "Now you're embarrassed!"

"Sweet," she signed as well, her mismatched eyes gleaming with pride. "Okay, let me try freestyle, and correct me if I'm wrong as brutally as you need to."

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary," Magnus grinned as he watched her attentively sign she loved pottery, art, and painting.

"You got all the signs right," Magnus promised before she could even ask, "but you look angry. I know you're just concentrating, but try to relax. Facial features matter, it's a very expressive language. Take a breath, you know those, try again."

She took a deep breath, shook out her hands, and then looked him in the eyes and smiled, her face alighting with excitement like she was telling him all over again her favorite hobbies were pottery, art, painting, and reading.

"That was, perfect. No notes, I promise!" He insisted before the words were even out of Alex's mouth, or hands, to protest.

Alex laughed with pleasure, and Magnus was guilty for a beat he wasn't actually deaf while he got the joy of hearing such a thing.

"Hearth is going to be astounded when we get back," Magnus grinned in that dopey way he didn't even seem to realize made him look so open and happy. "Just meeting someone else who can sign even a little, it'll make his day."

"Then show me another," Alex said, shaking out her hands eagerly.

His mind went blank, and not in the usual 'Alex just blew my mind by existing' kind of way. "I, um, don't think I know anymore," he confessed, feeling like he should use the sign for embarrassment himself now. "I haven't been doing this all that long myself. I'm sure I'll sporadically remember more, but um, without him around to practice with," he trailed off sheepishly.

"That's cool, maybe we can get that fridge to cough up an ASL book or something so we can keep practicing," she tried to sign fridge, cough, and practice while she was speaking, and while she still occasionally got a look of consternation in place while she kept everything in mind, she really was a natural. She was obviously great with her hands, and multitasking.

"Yeah, that sounds like a great idea," he agreed after only a beat of hesitation, but his smile was oddly longing like she was teasing him.

"You know, you haven't shown me a rather important one," she offered. Magnus hadn't brought it up himself since she'd announced it. "Do you know what genderfluid is?"

Magnus's smile looked a little sad now, giving her the answer before he shook his head. "No, and um, I'll be honest, I don't think there is one."

Alex raised a brow in surprise, more confused than offended, for now.

"Not everything in ASL has a sign," Magnus tried to explain. "It's not exactly a universal language, and, some of it is just used in local communities." He probably wasn't doing that good a job. "Like, like slang, but, more specific to signing cultures."

"Like my name," Alex repeated.

"Right, a deaf person has to actually give you your sign name. Hearth's not genderfluid, that I know of anyways, but, we were hanging at a community center once and I saw a flag and tried to ask him about it and he wasn't sure of some signs himself for the whole LGBT plus of it all as we tried to communicate," Magnus nodded.

"Hmm, guess that'll just be something else to work on," Alex said, the interest in her tone unfakeable.

Magnus's heart skipped a beat as he realized what they'd been doing. Talking about the future, like hanging out at that community center one day. She hadn't batted an eye to hear him say that either. "Hey, can I ask-" then Percy and Thalia entered, eating and laughing, and he lost his nerve.

He'd swear he saw her at a soup kitchen once. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye. Alex wasn't a face easily forgotten. Yet to say that exposed him for what he was, unless it was even worse and she had been there volunteering or something.

Jason came in with Will and Nico, all three of them shuffling cards and muttering together with smirks on their faces like they were doing something they weren't supposed to be and knew they were about to get caught. Probably by Percy biting his tongue against calling them nerds.

Who wasn't paying them much mind for now. Once he registered everyone was in here he went over to the blood red book that had an orange five on the spine. The color disturbed Percy as he picked it up. He'd had many an injury over time, and a part of him wondered if he'd had his life drained out of him and put into these creepy things.

Heaving a sigh as he went to flop into his beanbag beside Thalia, he watched her for a few moments, who was watching the trio over there nerd out about stats and critical chances and defenses.

She had that look on her face again. Indulgent, excited. The feeling nagged in the back of Percy's mind why it reminded him of Chiron watching over practices when they weren't exactly over there doing anything spectacular.

"Hey guys," Percy finally interrupted. "I'm exhausted, and now I want my food coma, but Thalia insisted we should at least start the next one."

She shrugged without remorse. An innate sense in her told the moon wasn't very high in the sky yet, and more than that, she couldn't imagine what horrors to expect even before the battle began which would be awful enough to get through. Best to at least split up some of this chaos.

They broke off, some more eager than others. Will looked like he was dragging himself to his seat by force, Nico muttering something to him with a look of concern.

Jason flopped into his cushion beside Thalia and began showing her some of his new cards. She smiled and nodded politely with completely forced enthusiasm, but she obviously wasn't going to be the one to shove him off so Percy began with a feeling of unease that holographic tentacle monster was going to appear any second down here.

I GO CRUISING WITH EXPLOSIVES

He stopped at once with a groan.

"Well, Percy's to young to join the navy, so that's out," Alex chuckled.

"I'm hoping he finally found a way to blow up Luke's ship!" Jason said excitedly, it was the only cruise ship that needed blowing up.

Will winced so visibly Jason startled in concern what he could have said. Was it possible the Camp somehow hijacked a Caribbean cruise and it got sabotaged?

Percy tried to keep going without his voice shaking, but it was hard. He wished he wasn't the reason Thalia, Will, and Nico couldn't just tell them all what happened in the least awful way possible, but the fact was the details, the slow trickle of information was the only way he could filter in everything without his head exploding in pain. This wasn't Jason's fault for his ignorance, it was his, whatever he'd caused to make Will wince like that, of that he was instinctively positive about.

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

"I knew the others had to be jealous of Blackjack," Will chuckled like nothing had happened, "they're over there trying to enforce your attention now."

Nico knew better. He'd been watching the way Will studied the cards and building ideas in his head. He had a pretty good poker face when he needed it, probably from to much time in the infirmary keeping the panic off his face not to scare the kids.

He was doing that now, hiding well from Percy how badly this was going to go. Nico had tried to ask him what happened, but he'd only shook his head with a look of nausea. Whatever this was, it was bad enough Will didn't want to lightly share it and have Percy, or anyone, suffer the answer to early. He spent so much of his time carrying and worrying about everyone else, Nico was beginning to suspect if he needed his own advice thrown back at him about repressing all of this alone. Will was the only one here who really knew every awful thing that had gone on at camp because he'd been there for it all. He and Thalia had only heard of tidbits in their comings and goings.

Percy had kept reading after a mild laugh, but Nico kept watching Will for a few paragraphs more.

Up until then, I was having a great afternoon.

"Well now we know the end of the world is on nigh!" Magnus grinned.

"I've had a few pleasant weeks at camp," Percy tried to protest, but he felt how untrue that was. Every good memory he'd slowly gained back had a hollow feel to it, a sense of finality. He knew he'd better savor those while they lasted, because he never knew if he'd get another.

Technically ...didn't turn sixteen for another week... let Rachel an I borrow his Prius.

"Woah, woah, woah, what was this?" Alex twirled her hand and cuffed it to her ear like a trumpet.

"Yeah, Paul's a cool guy like that," Percy tried to say nonchalantly around a blush.

But Percy didn't have an ounce of chalance in his body, and Thalia's laughter ruined it anyways. "You and Rachel were driving around the beach in your step-dad's car? Oh Zeus, where was the Beach Boy's soundtrack?"

"It wasn't a T-Bird Thalia," Percy groaned.

"Because that was the important detail to focus on," Jason gave Percy a pitying shake of his head he wasn't going to get out of this.

Not for lack of trying, as Percy loudly attempted to keep going a few more words like this was nothing out of the ordinary. The briny salt in the air that made his skin tingle with power, the feel of the engine under his feet like he'd only dreamed of being in control of, Rachel's hair getting everywhere as they laughed about last week and the art museum she'd taken him to. She'd been trying to tell him about The Persistence of Memory, but all he'd seen were a bunch of melting clocks and told her they needed some ice cream. Rachel had tried not to laugh, he'd leaned forward and threatened to lick the painting to see which would go best, and they were chased off by security.

A normal, mortal security guard who just shouted about rambunctious kids. No monsters. A perfect day. Like the many before.

The vivid memory drowned out the rest of their snickering so he could keep going in almost peace for another second.

... I know you're thinking, that was really irresponsible of him, blah, blah,

"Literally nobody thought that," Nico snorted.

"Which clearly means we need some adult supervision in here," Thalia rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt.

...My dad, by the way, is Poseidon.

"Shocker! Percy, why didn't you ever tell us!" Will snorted.

"You know me, I'd forget the difference between Chiron and Charon again if I didn't live with one of them half the year," Percy shrugged.

He can do stuff like that.

"But would he?" Alex asked in concern. "I'd hope he'd have better things to do than worry about your date."

"It's not a date!" Percy spluttered at once...yet to his own ears that sounded like a lie. Even in his own memory he'd felt the unspoken that had nothing to do with his other half of being a half-blood, which had not happened since he'd lived with Smelly Gabe. Things with Rachel were just, normal. Uncomplicated. Rachel's favorite person in the world hadn't sold his soul to an evil Titan and was threatening to eviscerate him or anything. Little things like that.

...so why did he feel so guilty for remembering all of this with such deep longing?

... Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.

'One man's frozen pizza is another man's Caribbean,' Magnus shook his head. The fact that Percy had a loving family to fight for made his life seem as fantastical to Magnus as Rachel's did to him. Rachel Dare was in a different stratosphere of his understanding altogether.

... I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life.

Percy shivered as memories crept into him.

...I was "on call" for a mission... when I turned sixteen, bad things would happen.

"And where better for them to happen than far away from everyone you know and care about?" Alex offered.

"Tempting," Percy admitted. He just knew he'd never go through with it, no more than he'd be able to stay on Ogyigya.

... "I know the timing is bad, isn't it always bad for you?" She had a point.

"Which I'm sure Rachel knows full well," Will chuckled, even if he did wish she were here to laugh about Percy having to admit it.

...she'd earned my respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue hairbrush.

"Only because it's blue," Nico rolled his eyes. "I bet if it was red you'd call it a lucky shot."

"You wound me Nico, I have plenty of admiration for the throw no matter my team colors," Percy grinned.

Thalia finally managed to give a half-hearted chuckle when the others did too. She still pictured Luke first, and she hated that about herself, but it was clearly the same thing her little sister had been going through back then and she wanted to be stronger for it in case Annabeth didn't take well to the news of what they'd been revisiting once they got out of this.

... He wants me to go to Clarion Ladies Academy in the fall."

"Is their uniform better or worse than Goode's?" Alex asked in disgust.

"Really shouldn't be basing school choices on that Alex," Magnus sighed.

"Well obviously her opinion matters most," she sniffed, "I'm just saying, there's obviously a lesser of two evils here."

...Can you see me in finishing school?"

"Learning which direction to cross your legs and which fork to use?" If Thalia crinkled her nose up any more she'd look like a pug. "I'd fail etiquette class on purpose by stabbing the first person who tried to teach me a new name for spoon."

"They wouldn't even have to be a monster," Percy agreed.

...It was hard to imagine her learning to be a socialite.

"I mean, has she tried both?" Will asked in sympathy. He knew she was currently at that school and had made some friends, even if it wasn't her favorite place. "Being a socialite would be a better guarantee to make changes for those Yellow-Bellied Sapsuckers."

"She shouldn't have to have money to make a difference," Alex grumbled, even though she knew that was how it worked.

... "He thinks if he does a bunch of nice stuff for me, I'll feel guilty and give in."

Alex felt like her stomach was going to rebel in disgust at hearing of this manipulation. She might have been thrown out of her home, but she'd never looked back for reasons exactly like this. She couldn't take fake niceties anymore, pretending and pandering and worse.

...so serious we'd have to go to St. Thomas to talk about it?"

Percy felt instant guilt for understanding why that would be as his mind hovered on the absurdly awkward conversation she wanted to have out of their home state. He'd found it easier over those past weeks to talk to Rachel about camp than he ever had with somebody in camp.

...something was bothering her, but she put on a brave smile...sunlight made her hair look like fire.

Percy had never before felt such a painful combination of embarrassment and longing. How was it possible his memories with her were easier to come back than anything involving Annabeth?

The time she convinced him to paint his nails blue, and he left it like that until it chipped off. The first time he'd been over to her place and she actually swung from a chandelier in one of the seven dining rooms they had and Percy had felt like he was in a drunken dream doing this for fun instead of in Antaeus's tournament. Just walking around New York, eating every kind of pretzel man could make and laughing about a movie they'd seen. Being able to teach someone else something for a change, as she'd managed to go a whole block without falling off his skateboard.

He wanted to slam this book shut and tell all of them to butt out, but thankfully there wasn't a judgemental face in sight. Thalia just looked very, very awkward, he couldn't imagine what she'd want to say to him, or Annabeth, or Rachel right now, but it seemed she'd be staying out of it, mercifully.

... remind myself that the mortal world was still out there... monsters using me as a punching bag.

Nico winced like he'd been called out. Being in here really made that seem obvious, especially the way Percy read it with that longing in his voice for something normal he'd been lacking in here, when this was the closest thing to normal Nico had ever really experienced.

... what would it take to get the stupid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"

"A song number by a Jamaican crab, a boat ride, and even then I don't think he'll take a hint," Jason snorted.

"You can't remember your own last name but you're over here making Little Mermaid references at me?" Percy asked in betrayal. He couldn't be the only clueless guy who didn't know how to act on these things?!

"You make it to easy Perce," Jason snorted.

"Oh-" I felt like one of Apollo's sacred cows; slow, dumb, and bright red. "Um-"

That at least earned a snicker of delight from the assembled group. Percy sighed but let them laugh as long as they liked. He had a horrible feeling lurking in him the idea of humor was living on borrowed time. A feeling strong enough that he was already having to concentrate against bending the water to his will, throwing it around with all his might to get out of here and escape something that had nothing to do with Rachel wanting him to kiss her, though that seemed like reason enough to him.

... Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.

Thalia clenched her jaw tight to stop herself reminding Percy it wasn't Annabeth's fault she was so protective of her feelings, after all the times she'd been hurt. She could understand Percy's ease with Rachel, but she still wanted to defend her sister shouldn't be dismissed so quick either.

It wasn't her place...but she worried what would happen if this kept progressing. She didn't want Percy's mind to come out of this, still vulnerable and confused and to break Annabeth's heart again. It would be her place to kick his ass if he did that, but she couldn't sit here and tell him not to fall in love with someone from his past if he felt like he'd made the wrong decision of this-

She was snapped out of her reverie by Jason whispering gently, "stop freaking out Thals, you're not in this alone."

She nodded with slight embarrassment. She did keep thinking about this in her own scope. She'd been taking care of her for so long, it was an instinct that was hard to let go that other people could look out for her best interests too. She kept trying to hold that idea in mind that's why Jason was even alive when he should have been dead all this time, somebody out there had been taking care of him.

...Hey, boss, a voice said in my head. Nice car!

"I think Blackjack has successfully saved your hide more than you have his," Magnus said. "Maybe you should start calling him boss."

"Pass," Percy frowned, his mind still stuck on a loop of Rachel smiling at him like that.

... I didn't think my stepdad would be real stoked.

"I bet he takes it to use as a learning opportunity with you," Will offered almost sincerely. "Don't change lanes in intersections, hit the breaks if you can't see their tires, don't let horses land here, all those important lessons."

"I'm just glad that car wasn't a stick, I had enough stress adjusting those mirrors," Percy gave an exaggerated shiver.

...who was riding on his back, and I knew my day was about to get a lot more complicated.

"Annabeth?" Alex asked with only the kind of amusement she could, the chaotic I want to see the world burn kind.

"No," Percy sighed in relief. Gods, for the first time he was grateful she wasn't here. He felt like he was stuck in a twister of every emotion at once.

Charles Beckendorf,

"Oh yeah, the guy that jumped on a dragon's back," Magnus said with all the confidence of one who should have a therapist on speed dial.

"How's that dragon doing?" Jason asked excitedly, only making Magnus's fingers twitch more. He didn't even own a cellphone.

"Doing pretty good actually," Percy said in his own surprise. "He hasn't eaten one camper, he's great border patrol and likes to bring Peleus monster scraps."

"Because that's a normal standard," Magnus sighed. It hurt all the more because he wouldn't believe even Mr. D had met that standard if every camper tried to convince him so.

...would make most monsters cry for their mommies.

"I bet Echidna actually appreciates it when they come over to visit and vent, she should send him a gift basket," Nico chuckled. He felt Will flinch and looked around in surprise, but it still took a few moments to click why. He didn't know the names of the kids around camp very well, but he did remember the sparse few that lingered when they died. Beckendorf had been one of them, seen by him alone. His essence just needed a little guidance to move on, he'd had a lot of unfinished business there.

Oh. Now he finally managed to link together the spiral Will wouldn't shake out of. This very well might finally be the mission Beckendorf didn't come back from.

...took out a whole legion of Kronos's evil meanies as soon as the first harpy went flush.

"Monsters use the bathroom?" Magnus really, really kept expecting for these things to sound normal eventually, but here was yet another brick to his shattered reality.

"Sure, all those demigods they eat have to come out somewhere," Percy shrugged. "They were all in this Thai buffet restaurant when we snuck in to put the bomb in place, and ooh boy, you do not want to know what in the sweet and sour beef they smelled like coming out. We did a public service that day."

Magnus absolutely had not wanted a single one of those extra details.

...His explosives bag was slung over his shoulder.

"He has a whole bag for explosives?" Alex grinned.

Percy couldn't answer. The words lodged in his throat. He couldn't laugh along and promise to keep that way from Alex, he couldn't even breathe for a moment as his skin flushed as if with a spontaneous sunburn. Wrong, wrong, wrong, something was very wrong...

Thalia finally got his attention by shocking him a little harder than she should have, but he barely felt it and didn't even notice his hair standing on end. He looked at her and then back at the book with a deep pit of dread that kept growing wider the longer he forced himself to read, like Kronos was manifesting Tartarus inside him.

...We'd been planning for weeks, but I'd half hoped it would never happen.

"I'm starting to suspect Saturn messes with your time stream or something," Jason admitted. "Just yours, making your hours and weeks skip."

Percy frowned how that might be possible and he'd never know it. Just because Ares was the only god who had cursed him to his face didn't mean the others wouldn't trickle some in.

... Percy's told me- uh, he mentioned you." Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Really? Good."

"Is it though?" Magnus asked in concern. He liked Rachel, the more he got to know about her the more he liked her, but all he could picture was Annabeth shoving her straw up Rachel's nose and worse if this kept escalating with Percy never taking a hint.

"I thought so," Percy sounded defensive. Beckendorf and Silena had been going strong through the summer, their dates escalating past where Percy wanted to hear, but Beckendorf had been worried about her pulling away recently. She vanished for hours and got really quiet when she came back and then would go days back to her normal, happy, bubbly self.

Percy had made himself an easy ear. He felt the exact same way about Annabeth, it had been easy to commiserate together while staking out locations. Rachel had come up sporadically, what they'd been up to, what plans they had made next, how he wished it was this easy with Annabeth and all the mixed, beaten, whirlwind emotions he constantly had.

He glanced miserably at all the books they had to go. He hoped nothing happened to Beckendorf while he wasn't there to watch his back, he felt like he had just as much to unload while it all simmered in his mind fresh as ever.

... I figured this might be the last time Paul loaned me his car.

"I wouldn't bet on that," Thalia chuckled. He and Sally were so generous it was unreal, he'd offered Thalia his car to take her fellow Hunter to the hospital when they'd shown up until she explained they just needed a safe space for a few moments.

... Rachel kissed me before I could even react. "Go kill some monsters for me."

Percy tried to read past that as fast as he could, but he knew his stuttering, blushing, tongue-tied words only caused them to laugh harder rather than their blank faces would have lasted. He was half surprised nobody made a crack about him having to blow up a volcano to get there with her, but Posideon himself must have stepped in to stop that happening.

...what Rachel wanted to talk to me about, and whether I'd live long enough to find out.

Percy was quickly losing faith in his mortality as he tried to garble through that with as much confidence as he could. For all he knew he'd been chucked into this room and Rachel had been looking forward to having that conversation at the bottom of the ocean and he'd somehow botched that too!

..."Oh, gods," I muttered. "Don't even think about it."

"Tell Annabeth what?" Annabeth said from the doorway.

PJOPJOPJO

Or, I guess I shoud have said, the scene you've all been waiting for. Yeah, that sounds better.

See you all on Monday!

#pjo #hoo #Percy Jackson #Jason Grace #Thalia Grace #nico di angelo #will solace #alex fierro #magnus chase #percabeth #solangelo #fierrochase

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melishade · 2 years ago

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Attack on Prime Autobot Anthology: Wheeljack’s perspective

New Arrivals

Introductions

Optimus’ perspective

Mikasa Ackerman

(I realize that for right now and for my future chapters, I haven’t had a focus on Wheeljack’s perspective/mindset in all of this. Arcee is more of a focus simply because I’ve known her longer. And I should focus more on Wheeljack. So here we are.)

Wheeljack was keeping his cards close to his chest, as Miko would put it.

He wasn’t going to lie: he was enjoying this place. Far more than he ever thought he would. I mean, Megatron was practically listening to humans and was a human’s escort, two of the humans could turn into ‘titans’, one that was arguably bigger that Optimus. The humans were actual fun, especially Hanji. The Commander was an absolute riot. They stayed up all night to discuss future plans and ideas, and the fact that Hanji put energon in human weapons was impressive. And then, all the Survey Corp members chewed out Optimus for keeping the fact that he used to be able to fly away from them for over two years! He got about half of the yelling on video!

But still, he was cautious about Optimus. Arcee was more visibly cautious, but Wheeljack was...pretending that he wasn’t. He didn’t know Optimus as long as Arcee did, but Wheeljack did respect him. Chief was able to prove his metal when the time called for it, and he was extremely loyal to his comrades. But having to fight a double of himself left him cautious.

As far as they know, Megatron did nothing. Optimus arrived on this world a month before Megatron did, with multiple eyewitnesses and newspapers backing up the claim. And Optimus was fiercely loyal and protective of the humans on the island, but also cared about the humans off the island. So much so he was willing to give up Cybertronian information to prevent an apocalyptic plan from being used.

...he supposed he could understand why Optimus would be willing to give that up. Wouldn’t want a repeat of Cybertron again. And there was no Omega Lock or Allspark to fix the damage.

Wheeljack continued downloading the schematics from the neutral ship while Optimus continued collecting metal that was no longer useful or vital to the ship. Wheeljack spared a glance every so often to the Prime, but Optimus continued working as if nothing was wrong.

This was the plan Arcee and Wheeljack had decided for the most part. Arcee knew that she could fight Optimus in one-on-one combat, so she thought that she would fair better with the humans. Meanwhile, Wheeljack was the one who would keep an optic on Optimus while working on communications. Optimus even offered to help while doing tasks for the humans. Sometimes Hanji would be with him. Sometimes she would be on his shoulder. Well...at least this Optimus didn’t hate the humans. Not like Buckethead. Though he still didn’t understand why he was willing to guard a human on a diplomatic mission.

Wheeljack finished downloading the information before unplugging the datapad from the console. He walked out of the main deck, passing Optimus in the process. As he reached the door, he paused in his step. If this was really Optimus, then he would have a problem if he stepped outside of protocol. Not like Magnus, but...to a degree.

“Hey, Chief, can I fight the kid?” Wheeljack asked.

Optimus paused his work and turned to Wheeljack.

“The kid, Eren,” Wheeljack clarified, “You’ve been training him and I want to see how well he handles under pressure.”

Optimus thought it over. “Eren still has much to learn, and while what I have been teaching him would help him fair on this world, it would still take some time for him to reach our capabilities.”

“Kid seems pretty capable of holding his own against you,” Wheeljack reasoned as he leaned against the wall.

“That may be true, but I have had to hold back during training so that I wouldn’t harm him,” Optimus explained.

“...sounds like you’re slowing down his progress,” Wheeljack pressed.

“I am trying not to,” Optimus proclaimed, “I want him to be ready for this war, even though part of me hope he does not have to fight...but I know that one day it might come to that.”

Wheeljack couldn’t help but notice the sorrow in Optimus’ optics before that same stoic expression returned. “When I believe Eren has made enough progress, would you be willing to test what he has learned?”

Wheeljack smirked at that. “I hope that day comes sooner than later.”

Wheeljack waved goodbye to the Prime before heading back to the Jackhammer. That definitely sounded and acted like Optimus, but something about that seemed...different. More...emotional for the Prime. He...really did care for the humans.

Wheeljack chuckled to himself. Only on this world.

(I might do more of these snippets of Wheeljack’s perspective for the Autobot Anthology. They seem fun.)

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seriously-siri · 1 month ago

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Update: Found absolutely nothing so I wrote it myself. Enjoy!

Ao3 Link

Also under the cut

It’s three weeks after Drift’s return to the Lost Light. They are sitting in the upper viewing deck; just him, Rodimus, the stars floating by the windows, and silence. It’s the second time they’ve done this together in the aftermath of the Necroworld, but the hundredth time Rodimus has been up there in silence since Luna 1. The first time, two days after the battle with the DJD, Drift didn’t say anything as he sat next to red and orange, swords propped up on the back of his chair, legs curled under him. It was the same this time. At least it seemed like it was going to be, until he unfurled his legs and turned to his friend. Sapphire optics fell to stare at the middle of Rodimus’ chest. It would be at the Autobot brand glowing over his spark, but it wasn’t. He was somehow staring past that.

Into him.

“Ratchet told me.” It was barely a whisper and Rodimus outwardly flinched. Ratchet could have told Drift a million and eight things about Rodimus. Things he’d done or didn’t do in the time since Drift left. Mistakes, lies, fumbles, and more mistakes. Because it seems like that’s all Rodimus is good at these days. Fragging up so royally and so frequently that it’s basically expected of him now.

“About what happened on Luna 1. The kill switch. What you did.” Okay, not where he’d expected this to go. “How you lost the Matrix.”

Leave it to Drift to bring up the literal last thing in the entire universe Rodimus wants to think about let alone talk about. Because it is just like Drift. Just like his best friend to bring up something so wild and extreme in such a calm but pointed manner.

Primus, he’s missed Drift so much. Almost missed being caught off guard like this. Almost. And, to be honest, Rodimus should have seen this coming. He knows Drift isn’t oblivious. They’ve talked about other things that happened while he’d been in exile. Rodimus openly talked about a lot of it, but not this. He’d very pointedly not brought this up at all.

And he wasn’t going to talk about it. Not here. Not now. Not ever. That was something Rodimus decided the moment he realized he lived. Because even if he did say that he’d live to get his just deserves, he didn’t expect to. None of them did. He could see it in their eyes as they hooked the wires up to his chest. As they watched him writhe in the bindings. He remembers seeing Perceptor look away before white took his vision. Minimus watching with a hand to his chest and the other covering his mouth in something akin to pity.

And then he lived and he didn’t really know what to do with that. So he did what he always does when situations he doesn’t know what to do happen. Ignore them.

He didn’t even tell Optimus all the details. He might have been a bit too casual in mentioning that the Matrix broke and the ex-Prime was too angry at him about that to really press him for more; which worked out wonderfully for him. He took the lecture and left and that was the last time he would willingly bring it up again.

So he decided it didn’t matter how many times someone asked him about it after that; whether it was Magnus, Rung, Ratchet… not anyone. He wouldn’t talk. Except it never came to that. Because no one had brought it up. Not even once.

He’d been prepared for them too. He’d figured out exactly what he would say for each person when they asked. Deflections and lies galore. Then they just… didn’t ask. They probably knew he’d bullshit his way out of the conversation anyway. That or he’d done a way better job at playing ‘I’m a-okay’ than he thought. Which couldn’t have been possible because he’d done a terrible job at pretending he’d been alright. He still tried to fake-it-till-you-make-it, but he felt so hollow, so transparent, that everyone had definitely seen right through him. The same way Drift was seeing through him now.

And they still didn’t say anything. They still didn’t ask.

The problem now was that he hadn’t prepared anything for Drift because he didn’t think he’d ever see Drift again let alone have Drift talk to him again. So Rodimus opened his mouth to deflect, before the question was even out in the open, but he wasn’t fast enough because Drift’s optics snapped up and met his own, soft but turbulent.

“Are you okay?”

Finally, someone asked. “Yeah dude, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Of course not. “Totally, this is me we’re talking about here. Something like that wasn’t going to take me out.”

Drift’s optics fell to the floor, a small sigh escaping him. “You’re lying.”

“Does my aura tell you that?” Okay, low blow and it definitely came out way more sarcastic than he’d intended.

“No.” And Primus did Drift sound disappointed. As he should. “You always have a tremble in your right hand when you lie.”

Huh? Rodimus looked down at his hand. It was resting on his lap, but sure enough his fingers were barely trembling, so minutely he couldn’t even feel it. Yet, somehow Drift had seen it. “Oh.” He really was that easy to read. Like script scrawled behind a glass window, open for all to see.

He shook his hand out only for it to start shaking more. In a panic he shook both hands out and, yeah that wasn’t smart because now both of his hands were shaking. Rodimus frowned down at them, traitorous digits. He curled his fingers up to his palms and clapped them together before pinning them between his knees. Because out of sight is out of mind, right?

Who was he kidding? Not Drift. Never Drift. Maybe he was just trying to kid himself. He does that a lot. Not that he can actually joke with himself. He knows what’s real and what isn’t. But if you keep it at arms length that it can’t overwhelm you. It won’t show. It’s easier to trick everyone around you.

Drift slid off his seat, taking a knee on the floor in front of Rodimus. White fingers slowly wrapped around orange wrists, pulling until Rodimus’ fists were back out in the open. Slowly, he cupped them between his palms and squeezed just enough to bring Rodimus’ attention down to him. Just hard enough that Rodimus couldn’t slip away with a quick tug. It was comforting, but at the same time he suddenly felt claustrophobic. Which was stupid because they were in a huge open area with a view of the literal universe beyond the windows, but the pressure on his wrists almost felt like shackles tying him to a truth he couldn’t face. Not yet.

“I remember,” Drift said, turning his head a little to catch Rodimus’ optics. “When you told me the story of how you got The Matrix. How, even in death, The Matrix comforted you. You said when you woke up, as Rodimus, as you, that even when you’d given it back to Prime, it was still with you.”

It was true. The Matrix, across all the galaxies, beyond all the stars, deep inside of Optimus’ chest still talked to him, still gave him warmth. It just felt right in his frame, like the last piece of a puzzle he didn’t realize he’d been missing his whole life up until the moment it nestled up to his spark.

There’s understanding in Drift’s optics. Understanding and encouragement and something else akin to grief.Whether that's for him or The Matrix, Rodimus isn’t sure. Because Drift is religious, and he prays to Primus every day and he asks Primus for guidance and he revered The Matrix and he revered Rodimus because he had The Matrix.

Ah. That’s what this is about. It’s about Rodimus destroying the single most precious artifact (okay half of it, but still) in Cybertronian culture. Now that he doesn’t have it, Drift probably doesn’t have any need to be near him anymore. He’s certainly never been anyone to revere and now he doesn’t even have the trinket that made him special. The thing that he carried in his pocket as an excuse for all his faults.

He always secretly wondered if Drift befriended him because of his time with the Matrix. If he was just sidling up to him because he was technically some kind of holy person. Putting up with his endless bullshit because that was the respectful thing to do.

“I’m sorry I lost it.” Rodimus said flatly, almost angrily. “I know it meant a lot to you.”

“Rodimus,” His name was hot, almost angry back. Almost. It also held that tone Drift gets whenever he doesn’t something kind of dumb, but also amusing. Sarcastic, but slightly chiding. “That is not even close to what I meant.” Drift pushed on, softer again. “Your story always reminded me of my great sword; of Wing’s sword. When I first connected with it, took it in my hands, I felt it burn inside of me. I can’t imagine what its absence would feel like at this point. I don’t want to think about it.”

Rodimus tried to pull his hands away, but his friend’s grip only tightened. He didn’t want to talk about this. He couldn’t. He- “Let go.” Was that his voice? He sounded so desperate. So small. He’s not supposed to be small. He’s never been small. “Please.”

“Roddy.” Drift pulled back. Light, but stern.

Rodimus felt an intake catch in his throat. He doesn’t need the pity. He doesn’t deserve the comfort. His redemption had failed, why does it matter how much it hurt him? Still hurts him. It doesn’t because he deserves the pain. He’ll deserve it for the rest of his life.

But something in him shatters. Shatters like his armor when it super heats and rapidly cools. Shatters like a glass he throws in his office during one of his temper tantrums. Shatters like the Matrix did inside of him.

“I burned Drift.” Which is such a dumb thing to say. He burns; he’s supposed to burn. That’s what he does. He’s Rodimus, formerly Hot Rod. He catches fire on purpose. He’s the outlier who spontaneously combusts.

Drift takes his words and Rodimus can see him rolling them over in his mind. His friend understands the implication of his words. He knows Rodimus doesn’t burn. Not in the traditional sense. Not like any normal bot. His flames scorch, sear, and melt anything within inches of him. He burns hotter than any average flame. He burns like magma. Like a mini sun. The colors of his fires go from red to orange to yellow, blue, green, and purple. A rainbow of nuclear flames.

So when Rodimus says he burned Drift’s hands tighten over his own and he shifts, just a bit, rising a little higher like he’s on the edge of a cliff and there’s a gust of wind threatening to push him over.

It pushes Rodimus. He tumbles over the edge and he can’t move to catch himself. He can’t stop so he lets gravity take over.

“Dying the first time around was less painful. It was quick. Easy. I was there and then I wasn’t. I didn’t see anything or feel anything or know anything.” He feels the tremors in his hands travel up his arms. “But this time I felt it. It was like a million little fires being lit all over. Like being thrown just close enough to a star to wallow in its radiation, but not die. My paint peeled from me a hundred times and I shattered apart a thousand times. I died and revived a million times; that thing rebuilt me while my soul melted with it over and over and over and-”

The hands on his fists snap up to cup his face, gently on his cheeks. “Hey,” Drift’s optics glowed a little brighter, bringing Rodimus’ attention to him. “It’s okay.”

“Don’t-” Rodimus shook his head, peeling back from his friend’s touch. “I can still feel it, Drift, I can still feel it burning inside me.” He put a hand to his chest, over his autobot insignia and dragged his digits down, just hard enough to scratch paint. “I’m on fire.”

Drift’s expression falls to abject horror and he grab’s Rodimus’ hand and pulls it away from his chest and to his own. “It still hurts?” “All the time.” Rodimus whispers, like he thinks Drift won’t hear.

He does. “Why…why didn’t you tell anyone?” Anyone definitely meant Ratchet in particular.

“Because…” I deserve this. “He had other things to worry about. Tailgate was dying and Ambulon-” He takes a breath. “Ambulon. First Aid wouldn’t touch a living soul after killing Pharma so he was on his own and dealing with shit all. Besides-”

Drift gives him a moment, scooping up his other free hand, now holding one in each of his own. When it’s apparent Rodimus won’t continue he pulls again, gently. “Besides, what?”

“That wasn’t even the worst part.” Which was another thing that sounded pretty stupid coming from his mouth. As if burning alive uncountable times wasn’t bad enough. But the things he saw, and felt and heard. Well he’d almost take facing the DJD head on again. “Everytime I died, everytime I revived, I saw it all over again.”

“Saw what?”

“Everything I’ve done wrong. Every mistake I’ve ever made. Nyon. Dealer. Earth. The spark eater. Losing you. It’s like the Matrix had only integrated with me because it knew I was going to be such a fuck up. It waited for the right moment to remind me. ” His voice becomes a whisper again. “Tell me I’d never been worthy…” Actually he’s not sure any sound comes out this time. His vocal box seizes And the words die in his throat. Snuffed out like an ember at the bottom of a pile of ashes. The room around him falls away, Drift disappears, and fire encroaches from all sides. He hears screaming, feels the seething heat, sees buildings fall, bodies scattered all around him. He feels a trigger in his hand.

“Well, that’s bullshit.” The words jolt him back to the present, there’s no fire. There’s no heat. Rodimus looks at Drift, his optics wide and wild, he feels outside of himself.

Wait. Did Drift just curse? “What?”

“I said,” Drift repeated. “That’s bullshit.” Okay, he did. That’s weird. And his face must have been something else because Drift huffs out an almost laugh. “You’ve always been too hard on yourself. You carry your guilt like so many of us do, deeply, unfathomably so. Roddy, you were always worthy. Worthy of the Matrix and this ship and your friends- of me. You are still worthy and if the Matrix is that vindictive then, as Ratchet would say, fuck it.”

Fuck the Matrix? Coming from Drift of all people? “The hell did you two get up to out there?”

“Enlightenment. Heroism. Adventure. Ratchet generally cursing in my general direction once an hour.” He grinned. “I definitely deserved it. Most of the time.”

Rodimus snorted before he could stop himself.

Drift sat back on his heels. “Better?”

Oooh. A diversion. “Did Ratchet teach you that?”

“Yeah, he did.” Drift stood up, pulling Rodimus with him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, tugging him in for a hug. “Nightmares are a bitch. I mean it though, Roddy. You’re worthy and this isn’t supposed to be some kind of… punishment. You don’t deserve that. Not any more than anyone else.”

Rodimus melts into his friend’s arms, suddenly exhausted. He squeezes his optics shut and holds back. “They… they didn’t ask, though. I figured they thought I got what they wanted.”

Drift holds tighter for a minute before letting go and stepping back a step, still holding Rodimus’ shoulders. “I think, maybe, they didn’t know how to ask. Would you have admitted to anything you told me?”

“I guess not.” He wouldn’t have. That was for sure. He doesn’t really remember the few days after they’d returned to the ship outside of critical moments, you know, like Cyclonus stabbing Tailgate and saving his life. Otherwise, he’d locked himself in his office or in his hab suit, drifting through the pain and nightmares. “I’m not really that approachable, huh?”

“Not with things like this.” Drift says honestly. He’s not mad or disappointed. Just pointing out something he’s clearly known for a long long time. “I know Ratty felt guilty about not trying to find you sooner, but he also sucks at admitting these things so he’ll never tell you that.”

Rodimus doesn’t entirely believe him, but he forces a little half smile. “Really?”

“He broke into your office to make sure you weren’t dead when you didn’t answer your comm.”

“He what?!” That might explain how he ended up in his room without remembering actually going there the second night after they returned. Or maybe it was the third. At the time he thought he’d just wandered there in his haze and didn’t realize it.

Drift had a small smile, but it fell as he searched Rodimus’ face. “Can I ask you one more time? Are you okay?”

The dulling burning in his chest blossomed for a brief moment, searing through him and Rodimus suddenly realized that Drift’s hands were still on his shoulders and might be the only things keeping him from crumpling to the floor. He turned to look out the window, at the passing stars, a purple nebula glowing in the distance, a meteor shooting off over the ship. He felt so small. “I don’t think I am.”

___

The next morning Drift is seen fleeing the medical bay, dodging a wrench after Rodimus asks Ratchet if he did indeed break into his office to make sure he wasn't dead.

I am in the mood for a very specific TF fic and it's MTMTE Rodimus angst/hurt/comfort after he loses the matrix to the kill switch.

#maccadam #rodimus #drift #mtmte #transformers #fanfiction #transformers mtmte #lost light #my writing

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swervenation · 2 years ago

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Swerve x Human Liaison Part 4 (*^▽^*)

It’s shorter than the other chapters - I think I’m gonna just post a scene at a time. Very happy to get back on this. I have so much planned you have no idea.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / ?

The next day, you sheepishly waited near the observation deck. An hour had slipped by as you deliberated over your outfit, and you even considered ringing up Rung or Magnus for a second opinion. It felt like your future hung on your ability to convince Tailgate you were worth keeping around. You leaned against a wall outside the deck, trying to minimize yourself, as you craned your neck to watch for the bot. Then you saw the looming purple silhouette … you had forgotten that Cyclonus was accompanying the two of you. Tailgate on his own had been intimidating enough. Before you imploded, you recalled some parting advice your psychiatrist had given you: try not to assume the worst. The worst was your first impression: that Cyclonus was here to sabotage this outing and protect Tailgate from you, knowing you were such a creep. With slow, deep breaths, you recentered yourself. This was likely no different from all the other times you saw them together.

The pair were close enough to spot you now - despite having no visible face, you could tell Tailgate was beaming. In order to avoid cardiac arrest, you focused on him and didn’t look up to his partner yet. But Tailgate was surely not going to judge you as harshly as you feared. He called out your name happily as he approached, then, when he was right in front of you, he turned back to Cyclonus and asked, “Wait - what was that human thing Swerve showed us?” The random mention of that name made something inside you explode. Wordlessly, the tall mech knelt down and extended his hand to greet you. As you took his sharp digits in your hand, you were comforted enough to look up and find his expression to be relaxed, but ever so slightly warm.

When you first boarded the Lost Light, you couldn’t have realized what a handshake would come to mean to you. It was a small, human gesture, and it’s not like you were missing it before Swerve first extended it to you … but now it meant that whoever offered it to you cared about you enough to learn the custom. (Or, somebody cared enough to teach them.)

The icy grip of panic in your chest relaxed slowly and fell away as you performed the same gesture with the very enthusiastic Tailgate. He expressed how happy he was to receive your message and immediately started to correct your apparent misperceptions of the crew, starting with his partner. Cyclonus, according to him, was every bit as badass as he appeared, but only on the battlefield. "Trust me, he's a big sweetheart!" Tailgate hugged his leg and, although he turned his face away, you could see something of a smile on that face.

Without further ado, the three of you stepped into the observation deck. You were instantly overcome by the enormity of your surroundings. You generally stuck to a strict routine, too apprehensive to go exploring. Habsuite to work to Swerve’s to habsuite to work etc etc. It had been as though your entire reality was contained within these walls. Seeing the stars around you through the crystal clear glass was overwhelmingly sublime. You drank it all in with wonder.

Swerve happened to be passing through the observation deck to get to his appointment with Rung. Finally, he was about to spill the beans about you. He'd been quiet about this crush for so long, it was more than he could handle. He was pondering if he should answer the typical therapy questions Rung was going to ask to start or if he should just start talking about you as soon as he entered the room - then he spotted you. Your head was tilted back and your eyes were wide in amazement as you slowly twirled around the room, absorbing as much of the Universe as you could. The stars gleamed as little pinpricks of light on your ever curious eyes. Swerve stood frozen in awe before his sense took hold of him and he quietly tried to sneak past the three of you.

Swerve couldn't escape Cyclonus's attention, though, as he cocked an eyebrow at the minibot. Then, with the slightest hint of a smirk, he greeted him. “Hello, Swerve.”

Tailgate turned to see his friend and you just about jumped through the deck’s glass ceiling. Quickly, you scrambled behind Tailgate and tried to look as casual as possible while carefully observing him outside of his natural habitat.

“Oh, hey, Cyc. Didn’t see ya there,” he almost winced. “Hey, Tailgate, hi, y/n.” He pronounced your name with a hesitance, as though he were bracing himself for something. Your head swam to hear him acknowledge you.

“Hi, Swerve! What are you doing here?” Tailgate asked.

“I was just passing through on my way to …” thinking quickly, he stumbled into the most high IQ 4-D chess move possible. “... To the Med Bay. Ratchet needs me.”

“Are you okay?!” you interrupted with concern, jumping out from behind Tailgate despite yourself.

“Yes! Yeah, I’m great. Thank you for asking!” there was a note of genuine appreciation in that. “But, anyways, Ratchet needs my help. Ratchet’s such an amazing medic, did you know that? Have you met him? He’s practically the best doctor in the Universe. So, yeah, he just asked if I could stop by and help him.”

You cocked your head in curiosity. What would a bartender be doing in a med bay?

“Does someone else have Cybercrosis?” Tailgate guessed.

“YES, exactly, that’s it. He needs me to, like, supervise the treatment. Make sure he’s doing it right. Man, I still can’t believe I invented the cure for that. That’s crazy.”

“Cybercrosis?” You couldn’t quite tell if he was joking.

“Cybercrosis is … nasty. Paralysis, blindness, amnesia, until your spark shrinks into nothing. Primus,” Tailgate shuddered as his visor dimmed, “You would not beLIEVE how much it sucks.”

“Yup, it was an uncurable and 100% fatal disease for millions of years. But Tailgate got it a few years back, and I fixed him up. First one to do so. It was pretty much a death sentence, but that didn’t stop me.”

“Wait - is this sarcasm?”

“I wish I could tell you he was exaggerating,” Cyclonus admitted, “But I’m afraid that’s all true.”

“Yeah, nobody would think your friendly neighborhood bartender would actually turn out to be a life-saving doctor,” Swerve said, putting his servos on his hips confidently, looking heroically away from you and into the distance, “But here I am.”

“Skin doctor,” Tailgate clarified.

“Life-saving skin doctor,” Swerve corrected him.

“Wow,” you said breathlessly, “That’s amazing.” Your head was spinning. You were trying to process this paradigm shift. You found him impressive just as a bartender - but he’s also a life-saving (skin) doctor? He was far out of your league.

“Thanks!” he responded cheerfully with a small crackle in his voice. His face lit up with that gentle blue glow. “Anyways, I should get going. Can’t keep Ratchet waiting. See you around!” With that, he transformed and shot out of the room. Cyclonus noted that Med Bay was in the opposite direction, but didn’t say anything about it.

#mtmte #lost light #swerve x reader #transformers x reader #tf x reader #i forgot how to tag this #i'll figure it out later #my fic #swerve

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barry-j-blupjeans · 3 years ago

Note

“You see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me" with Taako :O ! thankie!

Image ID: an ask from duke-of-fire that says "5. “You see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me.” with Taako and Lup? if you're still accepting prompts" End ID.

5. “You see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me.”

((75 random dialogue prompts here - still accepting!!))

cw for discussions of character death and murder //

Taako being mad at her for dying wasn't really what Lup had expected to come back to, but it was what happened nonetheless. No, actually, what happened was Taako dragged her to their dorm, hugged her for a solid hour and pretended he wasn't crying, and then started yelling, leaving Lup in a confusing mess of "what the fuck just happened" and "someone sensible needs to fill me in on what I missed."

"Uhm, well," Lucretia said, flipping through her journal pages. Taako was outside on the deck, fuming. Lup had seen Magnus try to approach him, but it was like watching a mouse approach a snake. "You died pretty- pretty early on, so uhm, there's a lot-"

"Lucretia," Lup said, leaning over the desk to look at the journal. "Just tell me what's up?"

"Does it even really matter anymore, I mean, it's in the past. You know what they say, the past is past and we should just, uhh, forget it happened and move on our lives."

"No one says that," Lup said. "You don't even say that. Just tell me, Creesh. Quick, like ripping off a bandaid. C'mon, hit me wi-"

"Taako killed the people who killed you," Lucretia blurted out. She slammed her journal shut and went to exit, despite the fact that they were in her room. "Like, all of them? And then he almost killed Dav, I think, for asking if he was okay, and then he just shut himself in your room for the rest of the year, and anyway, I gotta go-"

She shut the door behind her. Lup blinked.

Taako was still on the deck when she went after him. He was ripping up a piece of paper- something Barry originally did when he was anxious, but Taako had picked it up in the last few years. The pieces were so small Lup wasn't sure they could be ripped anymore. He didn't look at her when she sat next to him.

"Hey," Lup said. Taako shuffled his paper into one pile. "Not cool dude."

"You're not cool, dude," Taako snapped. "'Cus like-" He looked up, glancing towards the door as if someone would be eavesdropping on them. "'Cus like, you said you wouldn't die, and then you did, so that's kinda fucked up. Really fucked up, actually, if you think about it."

"You killed people," Lup said and Taako sagged a little in his seat, shrinking down.

"Well, yeah, whatever," he muttered. "They deserved it."

"Did they?" Lup asked, voice rising a little. She cleared her throat and tried again, "did they, Taako?"

"They killed you," Taako said. "So yeah. You see, this is the part where you tell me you’re proud of me. And I'm not really hearing that, so I'm not sure if this is a conversation I wanna be having-"

"This isn't a conversation anyone wants to be having," Lup shot back. "But you can't just kill people who hurt m-"

"Wouldn't you?" Taako tried, finally looking at her. "Wouldn't you fuck some people up if they hur- if they killed me?"

"That's not what we're talking about."

"Wouldn't Magnus kill someone if they purposefully hurt Merle? Wouldn't Merle fuck some people up if they had purposefully hurt Dav? Like, you're not above the rest of us, Lup! And I'm tired of you pretending like you wouldn't kill the hell out of anyone who killed your family. First, you're like, "we have to care about everyone", and then you're like "don't care about me, though!" What the fuck is your problem, Lup, are you okay?"

Lup really wished she had a paper to tear up right about now. She sighed, rubbing at her eyes with the palm of her hands.

"I'm just worried about you," Lup tried, to which Taako immediately shot back with,

"And I'm worried about you, doofus. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't hurt anyone who hurt me." She couldn't. Taako leaned back in his chair, frowning. "That's what I thought."

"I don't want to hurt people," Lup managed, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm tired of all this, Taako, but I don't wanna have to hurt anyone."

"That's what it takes sometimes," Taako said quietly. "You know that. We've known that since before we left. You can't get mad at me for that."

"I'm not mad at you," Lup said, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Yeah, well," Taako shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I'm not mad at you for it. Not right now, I guess. But I don't regret what I did."

"I know," Lup said, the words "I wouldn't either" dying at the back of her mouth.

#taako #lup #taz #stolen century #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #asks #iwilltranscend #duke-of-fire #cw character death #cw murder mention #ask to tag #we are playing in the space of 'heroes aren't always doing good deeds' and I'm loving it

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liltaz-asatreat · 3 years ago

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Davenport knew he should have stayed on the ship.

They had had a hard enough time finding a place that was willing to help them with supplies after they pissed off the regional government by stealing the Light from them when negotiations failed, so they didn't have many provisions on board by the time the Hunger was due to arrive. When they finally found a town with a surplus of goods and kindhearted townsfolk willing to part with some of them, Davenport sent the whole crew to gather as much as they could in case they end up in an uninhabited planet again. He could see the sky beginning to darken as he watched his crew struggle to get back to the ship from on top of the deck, but he thought there was still enough time to get down there and help them load up the ship faster before having to take off.

Curse his naivete.

They've fully abandoned the supplies now and are just trying to make it back to the Starblaster, but they are quickly surrounded by Hunger. Their forward progress comes to a grinding halt just a dozen or so feet away from the ship, and the crew forms a circle to try and protect each other's backs.

“There's too many of them, Captain!” Barry yells as he fires off another spell.

“I've noticed!” Davenport says through gritted teeth. He dodges a sword and gets slammed by a fist, stumbling into Magnus.

Magnus grunts as one of the Hunger bounces off his shield. “Wait a minute. Cap'n'port, only one of us needs to make it to the ship, right?” He says. He swings his ax and cuts a long figure in half.

“Yes, preferably me because I'm the pilot.” Davenport blasts an ogre looking shadowy figure with Phantasmal Killer. That should keep them occupied for a while.

“Lucky you're just a lil' guy,” Magnus mutters.

“What did you just say?” Davenport asks. This doesn't seem like the time or place for this, but he has a feeling whatever is going to come out of Magnus' mouth next is going to be both something that he never would have expected from him and something he wouldn't like.

“I have an idea. Just get ready to cast a spell to slow down your fall if you can do something like that,” Magnus says.

“What-”

“Lup, cover me!” Magnus yells.

“What do you think I'm trying to do?” Lup yells back from right next to him. She tries to step in front of him anyway and blasts a cone of fire into the mob in front of them.

“Magnus, what are you-”

Before Davenport can finish his sentence, Magnus drops his ax and shield, picks him up, and spins with him a couple of times before launching him into the air like a ball. Davenport screams as he sails over the crowd of Hunger attacking his friends, but he's definitely getting closer to the ship now. Magnus must have critted on his throw too because he makes it a good distance over the Hunger before he starts falling, but at this rate, he'll only smack into the side of the ship instead of getting on it. He grasps his wand with a grip of death and points downward, and a blast of wind pushes him back up into the air. He angles it, so he's moving both up and toward the ship again. Then he lets himself fall onto the deck. He lands hard though, and he rolls a couple of feet before stopping.

Looks like he is lucky he's just a lil' guy.

Davenport springs to his feet and runs for the bridge, stumbling a bit in pain and disorientation. He makes it to the wheel and pulls on the throttle, and he launches the Starblaster into the sky like a dart. He weaves around tendrils and punches through the inky opal sky.

Come on come on come on!

He zips past the plane and into the space beyond the stars. Then things get a little shaky in a way that is growing to become familiar. His stance shifts just a little without his control, and he watches as white threads of light come together to stitch back together his crew all around the deck. He breathes a sigh of relief as they finish their transformation. His friends cheer and high five, and Davenport walks down from the bridge to join them. They may have almost nothing to work with in terms of supplies, but they're alive and safe.

And he doesn't have to kick Magnus' ass.

#I originally wasn't going to write anything yesterday to take a little break and get some important stuff done #But by 9pm it felt really weird that I hadn't written anything and I had this idea so I just went for it lol #Posting it today though so it hopefully gets more traction than being posted at midnight lmao #taz #taz balance #taz fanfic #davenport #magnus burnsides #taz davenport #written works of Gab #stolen century

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dathen · 5 years ago

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I think one of the reasons why I find such a sharp divide in the approach to Magnus Archives analysis and character interpretation is that some are viewing it as a cautionary tale, while others view it as commentary on an unfair system.

On one hand, you have people who look at the events in the story, and see the unfairness and contradiction in the suffering throughout. What saves someone in one story damns them in another; sometimes love snatches someone from the jaws of death, and sometimes love just makes the pain inflicted sweeter to the entity consuming it.

Tim sums this up so well in the last recording he gave before his death, exhausted and furious by the impossibilities of the deck stacked against humanity:

Tim: I used to blame myself for not helping him. But now… now it doesn’t matter. I’ve read through enough of these things to know that this doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, open the wrong door, and that’s it! (TMA 117)

And then on the other, you have people trying to mold it into a cautionary tale, primarily about its protagonist: Jon brought his victimization on himself because he was too curious, too stupid, too unlikable; he should have just walked away, he should have left the Institute without Martin, he should have been more like [insert character here] and everything would have been better.

I think this view is common among fans because it’s one expressed by a fan favorite, that is generally considered a level-headed and wise outside perspective:

Georgie: Jumping on a grenade is only heroic if you weren’t the one who actually threw it.

Martin: That’s not what’s happening.

Georgie: Okay. It’s still not something I want any part of. (TMA 149)

It’s uncomfortable to view Georgie as in the wrong here, because then it becomes simple textbook victim-blaming. It’s easier for fans to take her words as fact in contrast to an angry and despairing Tim towards the end of his life.

But the key difference in their perspectives is information. Tim used to think his brother was a cautionary tale, that he was a cautionary tale, but after studying dozens of cases realized it wasn’t true--they were simply victims through and through. If Danny didn’t lead an adventurous life that led him to abandoned theaters, he could have still met a horrible fate as a real estate agent or commuting to a boring office job. In contrast, Georgie starts with limited information, then refuses to hear any that may threaten her worldview.

While it can function on a (very harsh) one-by-one character analysis level, the cautionary tale framework starts to fall apart as soon as you zoom out to the story and themes as a whole. Is this really a story about how trying to learn and understand is a bad thing, like some kind of weird anti-science ‘we should just keep our heads down and stop questioning things’ enforcement of the status quo? What worth would be in that message? Is this a story about how you’re a bad person if you struggle to connect to others, or is it one about how cold and brutal systems break down our communities and pit us against each other? Is it an exploration of how even if you’re trapped in a situation, you can still fight to care for each other and do the right thing, or is it “this other person was able to escape, so if you’re trapped it must be because you did something wrong”?

#tma #the magnus archives #tma meta #tma spoilers #victim blaming cw #I'm sure that a lot of meaty genre analysis could be added to this re: the history of horror #such as the cosmic horror elements #and how horror and myths HAVE been used as cautionary tales for centuries #but I'll leave that to someone with more literary experience with horror than myself #I'll just be having my 'Dathen vs. the Just World Theory' party over here in the meantime #top posts

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nonbinaryeye · 3 years ago

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Bets and wagers

Written for @eliasbouchardweek

Day 7 - Favourite character dynamics

The results of the bets and wagers might seem to be suspiciously in Peter’s favour but it would be silly to suspect Elias might be the culprit. Why would he be cheating in favour of the other one?

One older man and one young man are sitting together playing cards in the older man’s office. The young man is having a surprisingly good time.

“Who would have guessed it is so easy to beat a servant of the Eye in cards. One more game?” Peter laughs, already putting cards back into the deck.

“You are really good at cards indeed.” James nods and struggles not to smile.

…

The older man could now be called simply old. The young man is still young even though his hair and beard are turning silver quite quickly.

“It seems I won the bet.” Peter laughs and collects his prize. Stock of papers with detailed information about people who encountered the Forsaken. As a member of Lukas family Peter who are so generously sponsoring the Magnus Institute, he would be entitled to get that information anyway. But who is James to ruin the fun.

“Hm, we should make another bet.”

“Sure. You really don’t like losing, do you?”

Of course, James doesn’t like losing. That is not what he is doing right now though…

…

One still quite a young man and one not so young man anymore meet to resolve the results of their latest bet again.

“For someone serving the Beholding you are terrible at predicting the future.” Peter collects his prize. At first look it is just a simple wedding ring. On closer look one who knows could notice that it is clearly a Lonely artefact.

“You do not have to rub it in.” Elias frowns. He is not really happy about giving up on any of his artefacts but how can the winning seem real if he is not willing to lose something he hates letting go?

“New body did not seem to improve your winning abilities.” Peter puts his trophy in his pocket. “So, what will we wager about this time?”

…

One middle aged man and one older man continue with their bets. The winner and loser are usually the same as always.

“Not your lucky day again, huh?” Peter takes stock of statements and documents talking about this new ridiculous obsession of his. The Extinction. Elias still doubts it is real. It was annoying putting it all together for him.

“Sometimes I doubt if you are not cheating,” he pouts and Peter rolls his eyes.

“One would expect you will learn how to lose by now.”

Soon. Soon Elias will collect the fruits of his labour.

…

Two older men meet again.

“One more victory and I will start believing you are letting me win.” Peter laughs but collects no prize as this time they forget to decide on a prize.

“Well, if you win the next bet, it might be the last one anyway.” Elias smiles.

“Oh? What do you mean?” Peter looks amused. He does not believe he could lose. Good.

“You will see as soon as I explain it all. Though I feel that this time I might be the one winning.”

“I doubt that. But very well let’s hear it then.”

Both of them are certain they know how this wager will end. Only one of them is correct.

…

One old man and one much older corpse are left alone in Panopticon.

“You would not believe how hard it sometimes was to arrange that you will win. You were always so terrible at gambling.” Elias’ sighs. He suspects he will not see his associate again. He will miss him a bit. He was the closest he had to a friend in these past years. Peter would hate to know that. Elias smiles but his smile is sad.

#Yes I do really love lonelyeyes as a ship but I am also very intrigued by their character dynamics as portrayed in canon.#tma fanfic #tma #lonelyeyes #elias bouchard #peter lukas #james wright #eliasweek2022 #mEye fanfic #mEye post

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karlyanalora · 4 years ago

Text

Revolution

Music haunts the Nemesis. No one knows where it’s coming from or how to turn it off. Sometimes it’s not even whole songs, just snippets of them. Like the lines were cherry-picked, out of order with entire verses skipped. And it’s really only three songs. Smokescreen could probably sing along at this point.

Not that anyone feels like singing with Optimus gone.

What plays seems to depend on which room you’re in. The old throne room and command deck greet you with the lyrics, “Here they talked of revolution. Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came.”

The mess hall and rec room were arguably worse. “There's a grief that can't be spoken, there's a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables, now my friends are dead and gone. From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn. And they rose with voices ringing, and I can hear them now! Phantom faces at the window, phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will meet no more.”

Megatron’s old room and favorite haunts rang with rousing words about revolution, red, and black. Smokescreen could feel himself getting hyped.

Everywhere else rang with a song Smokescreen had correctly dubbed “Can You Hear the People Sing?” Smokescreen figured there were worse songs in the galaxy to be stuck listening to.

One bedroom was unbearably loud and mournful. “Oh my friends, my friends forgive me, that I live and you are gone. There's a grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on.

Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for! Empty chairs at empty tables, where my friends will sing no more.”

Smokescreen hated that room. It sent shivers down his struts like he was being watched. Oddly enough, despite it not being his room, outside of med bay that was where Knock Out spent most of his time. Sometimes Smokescreen could hear him singing along, and somehow it was even more tragically beautiful.

Knock Out kept arguing that they should let Soundwave out of the Shadow Zone. Smokescreen admitted his arguments were not all that bad. Especially the ones where he brought up what Optimus would do. But the truth was they were all still too tired to deal with it right now.

So they kept telling Knock Out “We’ll discuss this more tomorrow.”

And then the music stopped playing in the halls.

Knock Out spent even more time in the room with the somber music and he was getting harder and harder to shut down when he pushed for Soundwave’s release. Then the mess hall went quiet, followed shortly by the throne room and command deck. Than at last it was only the one berthroom with music left in it.

Smokescreen walked by and heard sobbing coming from inside. He stopped and pressed his audial close to the door. It was Knock Out.

“...You are starving to death, literally dying! Stop being so stubborn and send them a sign already. Let them know you’ll play nice. Just tell them you’ll forsake the badge!” he said.

The music blared throughout the entire ship, enough to hurt. “The very words that they had sung became their last communion on this lonely barricade at dawn!”

“Yes!” Knock Out shouted, “But is it worth dying for?”

“Here they talked of revolution. Here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came,” the music answered.

“Who says it can’t?” Knock Out retorted. “Megatron murdered the dream of a better world eons ago! You have the chance to make that change now as we rebuild our home. Fine, don’t give up the badge! Come out here and prove to them you don’t need to forsake it to ensure peace. What about Laserbeak, huh? You willing to let him die to?”

Smokescreen’s optics went wide. Knock Out was talking to Soundwave and Soundwave was dying. He commed Ratchet.

“Hey Doc Bot,” he whispered. “About Soundwave? We’re running out of time.”

Smokescreen listened to the onesided conversation as the other ‘Bots gathered. Ultra Magnus, the last of them, had just arrived when a new song started playing.

“Don't you fret, Knock Out,” the name was a different sound clip and the song continued flawlessly. “I don't feel any pain. A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You're here, that's all I need to know.”

Arcee’s optics widened in horror. “I know this song. It’s a death knell. The girl who sings it dies at the end of the song.”

Ultra Magnus stepped through the door.

Knock Out looked up at him with coolant filled optics. Ultra Magnus ignored him and stepped into the center of the room. “Soundwave, if you die, who will tell their story? The Decepticons need a leader, and I know you’ve never wanted that role. I certainly don’t. But together we can achieve what Megatronous and Orion could not.”

Magnus held his servo out to empty space. “What do you say?”

The speakers crackled to life with static.

Magnus nodded, lowering his hand. “That’s good enough. Ratchet, get him out of there.”

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

Soundwave watched them from where he sat trapped in the Shadow Zone, leaning against the wall across from Knock Out. The medic had been a comfort during his isolation. Soundwave kept feeding his dwindling supply of energon to Laserbeak despite the minicon’s protests.

“It’s my job to protect you,” the minicon protested from where he was docked. “Me, Ravage, and Buzzsaw; that was our job since the day we found you. I don’t want to outlive you, Boss!”

Soundwave raised his servo and let it drop onto his chassis on top of Laserbeak.

“They’ll come in time to save you.” he said, voice barely audible from starvation and misuse.

Soundwave watches as the grounbridge opens and releases Laserbeak from his dock. His vision shuts down as he watches the minicon fly out. His helm rolls to the side as he loses consciousness. His audials are the last to shut down, but his mind is to far gone to assign meaning to the words he hears.

“Ultra Magnus, it’s to risky!”

“Don’t do it!”

Soundwave is unaware as Ultra Magnus steps into the Shadow Zone and lifts the cassette rack into his arms, carrying him out. The commander lays the mech down on a recharge slab as Ratchet scans him.

The medic grabbed Bulkhead’s arm and yanked him into a sitting position, fishing out a needle with his other servo. “He needs processed energon. He’s to weak for anything else, which means I’m taking donations.”

“Do I get any say in this?” Bulkhead said leerily as he eyed the needle.

“No,” Ratchet said as he jabbed it into a line.

“I’ll go next,” Knock Out offered.

The older medic shook his helm. “No, I need you to be able to help.”

They worked in silence, only interrupted by the odd order. Laserbeak perched near by, only flying down to rest on an offered recharge berth. Finally, Ratchet stood back.

“He’ll make it. Lost of fuel and rest, self-repair should handle most of the damage from prolonged energon deprivation. Any other damage I should know about?”

“Damaged voicebox and face. Altered t-cog for both him and Laserbeak. Not that’s there’s much we can do about that right now.” Knock out said with a sad shrug.

Ratchet took a look and cursed. “Who…?”

“Pharma.”

Ratchet closed his mouth into a hard thin line. “I’ll get you a chair.”

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

Soundwave woke up slowly. First his hearing returned and he could make out music playing. Then he opened his optics and made out Knock Out asleep in a chair next to him, mouth hanging open. Soundwave managed to reach out and give the medic’s hand a light squeeze. It was testament to the red car’s exhaustion that he did not stir.

A large blue mech filled Soundwave’s vision.

“They say their are two parts to a revolution; the razing and the rebuilding. We’re halfway there. Are you ready to finish it?” Ultra Magnus asked.

Soundwave nodded.

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

Do you hear the people sing

Lost in the valley of the night?

It is the music of a people

Who are climbing to the light.

For the wretched of the earth

There is a flame that never dies.

Even the darkest night will end

And the sun will rise.

Will you join in our crusade?

Who will be strong and stand with me?

Somewhere beyond the barricade

Is there a world you long to see?

Do you hear the people sing?

Say, do you hear the distant drums?

It is the future that they bring

When tomorrow comes!

@soundwaveweek

Tbh, whenever I hear revolution I think of Les Miserables. And tfp Soundwave gave me an excuse to use plenty of its lyrics. I think he'd have liked the musical. Forgive my very self-indulgent contribution.

#les miserables #do you hear the people sing?#empty chairs at empty tables #abc cafe #les mis finale #a little fall of rain #tfp #tfp soundwave #ultra magnus #tfp ultra magnus #soundwave #knock out #smokescreen #ratchet #tfp ratchet #transformers #my writing #original something

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theultimateultimateweapon · 4 years ago

Text

Kirby: Meta Knight and the Knight of Hades (Chapter 3)

Kirby, King Dedede, and Waddle Dee boarded the battleship Halberd.

After hearing the story, they were surprised.

“Eh!? The Galaxia has been stolen!?”

“Troublesome, Meta Knight. I guess you weren’t careful…”

Dedede was going to laugh, but when he saw Meta Knight’s enraged mood, he quickly shut his mouth.

“Then, the Meta Knight I found was a fake but his sword was real. This is terrible!” Kirby said with a furious face.

“I hope no one else was hurt with the Galaxia. If it had a heart, I think it would be sad. I’m sorry for the Galaxia!” Waddle Dee was worried.

“He may be doing bad things on other stars. Maybe he’s going to disguise himself as Meta Knight, rampage, and damage Meta Knight’s reputation…”

Captain Vul nodded. “Well, I’m worried about that too. He may be trying to destroy Meta Knight’s honor. We need to act quickly…”

At that time, the communications desk rang.

When Axe Knight hit the switch, a surprising face was projected on the screen.

Captain Vul.

Everyone was shocked, seeing Captain Vul sitting next to Meta Knight.

Taken aback, the eagle stared at his face on the screen.

The Captain Vul on the screen said with a serious look, “Meta Knight, it’s a disaster! I was kidnapped by a bad guy and locked up. That eagle next to you is a fake and is aiming for your life!”

“What did you say!?”

The Meta Knights, upset, compared the two Captain Vuls.

Sword Knight said, stunned, “The voice is the same… which is the real one!?”

Captain Vul, sitting in his seat, shook his fists and shouted. “No, I am real! Don’t be fooled~!”

Captain Vul on the screen also shouted. “Believe me, Meta Knight! I’m the real Vul…”

“Stop this nonsense.” Meta Knight said in a cold voice to the screen. “I know the real Captain Vul is here. What do you want?”

“...”

The Captain Vul on the screen suddenly gave a fearless laugh.

“Hmm, I can’t help it. As you can guess, I’m not Captain Vul. I am the best disguise master in the universe, I can transform into anyone I’ve seen before. I am Beryl.”

“I don’t care about your name. Tell me what you want.”

“It’s about this,” Beryl showed off the Galaxia. “It’s a great sword, just like the legend says. Just swing it lightly and one thing will cut in two!”

Beryl shook the Galaxia and laughed. “If you want this guy to be returned, prepare 10,000 point stars.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this your favorite sword? Compared, 10,000 point stars should be cheap.”

Captain Vul burst into anger and shouted, “You’re asking for a ransom! Monster!”

“Hmm! Don’t you want me to return it? If not, I guess this is mine.”

“Bastard!”

Captain Vul was about to hit the screen until the Meta Knights stopped him in a hurry.

Meta Knight said, “I want the Galaxia back. Tell me where to meet you.”

“Hehehe, you’re different from your subordinates. You seem to understand. The place is the planet Magnus. Come to the southern plains of the largest volcano. Ten thousand point stars, don’t forget.”

The communication was cut.

Kirby spoke. “I can’t believe it! It looked just like Captain Vul, but I couldn’t tell which one was real!”

Captain Vul looked up and said to Meta Knight, “You saw the real eagle without any hesitation! I am deeply moved by this! Thank you, sir!”

Meta Knight nodded silently.

The knights all whispered.

(There was a fake, but he could tell them apart!)

(That was the coolest thing!)

“Meta Knight,” King Dedede spoke. “Are you really willing to pay all those point stars to that guy?”

“No way,” he replied. “We will regain the Galaxia by any honorable means.”

“In other words, you’re going to take it back with force?”

“It belongs to me!” Behind the mask, the swordsman’s eyes were shining with a strong light.

Planet Magnus.

It’s a rough star with many volcanoes. There are a few inhabitants, and the vegetation is scattered.

The Meta Knights came to the plains on the south side of the largest volcano.

What was waiting there was a sword fighter who looked just like Meta Knight holding the Galaxia.

“He disguised himself as Meta Knight again…!” Blade Knight screamed in anger.

Beryl spoke in Meta Knight’s voice. “There you are. First of all, let’s get the promised 10,000 point stars.”

“Promised? You’re a real rotten guy, you know that?” King Dedede said with a moody face. “You monster, while pretending to be Meta Knight, you rampaged through Dreamland. You should have left us alone. As Dreamland’s ruler, I’m going to make you pay, be prepared…”

“Before you attack, your majesty,” Meta Knight said.

King Dedede raised his hammer and replied. “Just leave this to me.”

“This is my fight. There is no need for you to get involved.”

“But you don’t even have a weapon.”

“I may not have the Galaxia, but this will be enough.” Meta Knight held a regular sword sold at any weapons store.

“With such a puny weapon…”

King Dedede looked dissatisfied, but Captain Vul spoke.

“For Meta Knight, any weapon is powerful. He could even use his bare hands.”

Meta Knight walked towards Beryl.

Kirby and Waddle Dee cheered aloud.

“Go for it, Meta Knight!”

“Rally, rally, Meta Knight!”

Meta Knight was full of rage. Even Kirby and Waddle Dee stopped cheering and took a breath.

However, Beryl did not seem to flinch and held tight the Galaxia.

King Dedede muttered, “He seems to have confidence in his grip, it’s not a bad grip either.”

Sword Knight, annoyed, replied, “That’s just a pose. It just looks strong because he’s imitating Meta Knight!”

While everyone was watching, Meta Knight started.

“Let’s go!” He shouted and leapt at Beryl. He lifted his sword and tried to slash at that moment.

Meta Knight disappeared.

Kirby and the other screamed involuntarily.

“What!? Meta Knight…!”

“He disappeared!?”

Beryl burst into laughter as if he had won. “Fufufu! Hahaha, it was a trap!”

“Wanna… see?”

Kirby and his friends rushed to the points where Meta Knight disappeared.

There was a deep hole there. It seems there was a thin plate placed on the hole and covered with soil so that it could not be seen. Meta Knight hadn’t noticed and fell in.

“Oh no! Looks like your precious swordsman fell into a pitfall!”

“Meta Knight! Are you okay!?” Captain Vul called to the bottom of the hole, but there was no reply.

Sword Knight shouted, “Pitfalls don’t work for Meta Knight. You may not know, but Meta Knight can fly in the air!”

Beryl laughed louder and louder. “Fufufu! You don’t know anything!”

“What…!?”

“This hole is called ‘Magnus Hades Hole’. It’s so deep that there is a legend that it continues to Hades. Moreover, the hole is filled with poisonous gas.”

“Poisonous gas…!?”

“If you inhale it, your whole body will quickly become numb and you will not be able to move.”

“What did you say…!?”

Kirby and the others were stunned.

The immobile Meta Knight has no choice but to fall to the bottom of the deep, deep hold. And if he keeps breathing the poisonous gas…

“I’ll help him!”

Kirby was absorbed in trying to jump into the hole, but was stopped by King Dedede.

“Knucklehead! The poisonous gas could kill you!”

“But if he stays in there, Meta Knight…!”

“Fufufufu… hahahaha!” Beryl laughed. “Don’t you see? I didn’t come here for some point stars. I want to replace Meta Knight as the number one sword fighter in the galaxy!”

“Monster!”

King Dedede swung his hammer up and attacked Beryl.

Beryl quickly jumped and ran away.

“Wait-!”

Kirby tried to chase after them, but Beryl escaped quickly. He soon lost sight of them.

Captain Vul said, “Kirby, leave them alone. Now, the first thing to do is rescue Meta Knight.”

“Uh, yeah, but how…?”

“Hmm… if only there was a way to get into the hole without inhaling the gas…!”

Captain Vul pondered with his head in his hand.

Axe Knight shouted, “Captain, there’s a hose used for deck cleaning in the warehouse of the Halberd! If it’s long enough, do you think it’ll be useful!?”

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Captain Vul clapped his hands. “Get the hose right away! Hurry up!”

Kirby and Dedede can both hover in the air. Unfortunately, King Dedede got hungry so Kirby decided to go down into the hole.

“Be careful, Kirby.”

Waddle Dee seemed uneasy, but Kirby cheerfully replied.

“It’s okay! I’ll bring Meta Knight home.”

Captain Vul shouted. “Hurry up, Kirby! We don’t have much time!”

“Alright!”

Kirby grabbed the hose and jumped into the hole.

The inside of the hole was dark and difficult to see.

Kirby went down into the dark at full speed.

He wanted to call to Meta Knight, but he couldn’t speak with the hose in his mouth. In his heart, he kept screaming.

(I’m coming! Hold on Meta Knight!)

As the name Hades Hole suggests, the hole was horribly deep.

There seemed to be no end in sight.

As he went down the rocky interior, the air felt thinner.

(How long does this last… The hose, I wonder if it’s long enough… I might really fall into Hades…)

At that moment, Kirby’s hand finally touched something hard.

(Ah! Meta Knight!)

He reached the bottom of the hole that seemed to continue forever.

Meta Knight was out cold. Even if Kirby shook him, there was no reaction.

(Firmly now…!)

Kirby held the body of Meta Knight tightly with both hands.

He was hovering as hard as he could! He was approaching the light above where everyone was waiting. Kirby sped up.

Rescued by his friend, Meta Knight was immediately brought to the Battleship Halberd.

“Meta Knight! Meta Knight-!”

Captain Vul and his men continued to speak, but Meta Knight’s consciousness did not return. His body temperature was getting lower and lower. He was hardly breathing.

King Dedede said wildly, “Hey, Meta Knight! Buddy, how long are you gonna sleep? Hey, I’ll wake you up!”

Meta Knight’s subordinates rushed to stop him when he raised his hammer.

Captain Vul said. “Calm down, your majesty. You can’t use your hammer, we need a doctor. Find the best doctor in the universe!”

The Meta Knights ran off and began to look in the database.

Kirby and Waddle Dee were sitting in the corner of the lobby drowning in worry.

“...It’s okay, Kirby. Meta Knight will be fine, right…?”

“He’ll be alright. Meta Knight is… strong.” Kirby replied, but his voice was weak.

Sword Knight and Blade Knight called out to him.

“Kirby. Let’s leave this to Captain Vul, we’re going out.”

“Eh? Where are you going?”

“We’ve decided. We’re going to catch this disguise master!”

Their voices were powerful.

Kirby stood up in a heartbeat. “That’s right. We can’t let them get away!”

“I’m going too!” King Dedede interrupted. “I’m not doing this for Meta Knight, I just don’t like that disguise guy! I’m gonna have to hit him with my hammer. And…”

Dedede was quiet.

“If he’s still disguised as Meta Knight, making him bruised will feel all the much better.”

“...Sheesh, what a guy.” Sword Knight was disappointed, but regardless, the goal was set.

Captain Vul came in. “Meta Knight will be saved. You guys go take care of this business! Go on!”

“Leave it to us!” Kirby nodded loudly.

(Chapter 2 - Table of Contents - Chapter 4)

#kirby novels #kirby #kirby of the stars #kirby light novels #translation #kirby light novel translation #waddle dee #king dedede #meta knight #captain vul #the meta knights #Kirby: Meta Knight and the Knight of Hades #I'm keeping it as Hades but I really wish it was translated to Hell instead because the Magnus Hell Hole sounds so much funnier to me

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ceilingfan5 · 4 years ago

Note

i DEFINITELY would read a werewolf narrated space pudding heist anyone who wouldn’t is not very poggers

"So does every moon make you change?" Taako probes, leaning heavily on a bank of computer-adjacent equipment that looks important. Some of his tentacles sway slightly like the artificial gravity doesn't affect them at all, and his eye contact is unrelenting, unhindered by his translucent eyelids that flicker from time to time.

Kravitz has the distinct impression that Taako is trying to flirt with him, but he can't be quite sure--he hasn't exactly been able to research how or even if Taako’s species flirts. He’s one of only two left, and they're hardly in Mo's Guide To Romancing the Wonders of the Universe, which Kravitz does not own, shut up.

"That's kind of a sensitive question, don't you think?" Kravitz pretends to check calculations on his tablet, but he's already completed most of his work for the day. "I didn't come asking you about your biology."

Taako grins with needle-sharp teeth in a way that Kravitz’s brain still registers as too-wide and dangerous, even after all of his years of space travel. In a lot of species, that's a threat display. Or maybe Taako is mocking Kravitz for being human. Or...maybe he’s just smiling.

"You can ask any questions you want about my biology if you buy me a drink first."

Kravitz's cheeks heat up and his wristband pings his display about his heart rate suddenly increasing. Kravitz deletes the notification.

"I'll keep that in mind," he says, as professionally as he can manage. "I suppose if you're terribly curious, yes, it doesn't have to be Earth's moon. I just have to be on the planet the moon is orbiting. I don't know exactly how it works, just that it does."

"That's soo interesting," Taako drawls, leaning even closer. One of his tendrils almost reaches for Kravitz and he tries to subtly pull it back. "You'd think the magic would be in your connection to your own moon. Magic loves personal connections."

"Well, I wasn't born on Earth, so that complicates things."

Taako says something under his breath in a language with a lot of high pitched chirps and clicks that the universal translator doesn't seem to have any reference for, but Kravitz has to imagine it's something like fuck, I want to study you. Kravitz is saved from having to reply or pretend not to have noticed when they're hailed to the main bridge. The head arcanist and the head scientist. That can only mean they've gotten close.

Kravitz isn't used to less-than-legal endeavors. His old ship was run as tight as can be, the model of the entire Federation, and being on this particular expedition has been enlightening to say the least. Perhaps most surprising is the way it truly seems to suit him, in a way that's taking a lot of getting used to.

"Alright," Captain Davenport says, pulling up about twenty maps and laying them over the main view of the startlingly purple planet below. "We're almost there, and we all know getting there is half the battle. Our mission is to retrieve the stolen goods and get them back to their rightful owners, preferably as in-tact as possible. Our non-newtonian treasure lays directly beneath us, and if we don't behave like we did on our last mission-" he gives everyone on deck the stink eye, and Lup and Magnus high-five. The Captain flicks his tail irritably behind him. "Then we should be in and out, no problem."

"Sorry, hang on," Taako says, two sets of tentacles folded over his chest, or at least the part of him that’s in uniform. "What are we stealing?"

"Pudding," Davenport whispers, with a twinkle in his eye. "Suit up, we're in the teleporter in five. And Kravitz?"

Kravitz swallows. Several of the maps disappear from the screen, offering a beautiful and terrifying glimpse of an enormous moon.

"Yes, Captain?"

Davenport twitches his mustache.

"Be prepared."

#taz #tazb #taakitz #taakitz fic #the adventure zone #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #i gotta be honest i am tempted to keep going with this one.#(it's the tentacles)

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lilblog-asatreat · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt: Guard on a break; petty; shimmering lilac lake

(Prompt from Roll-A-Prompt Writing Journal Boxed Set)

It's been three months since the IPRE crew escaped the animal planet, and Taako's at his limit. This world they touched down in is completely devoid of civilization again, including talking animals, which means there's virtually nothing to do except study the Light of Creation, which they recovered a few weeks ago, and interact with the only other six people alive on the planet that composed of Taako's crewmates. He's almost always in the small lab with Lup and Barry as they experiment with the Light, and the times they aren't doing that, all Lup and Barry want to do is talk about it. Magnus trains almost nonstop, (seriously, does the dude even sleep?), and it seems like the only times Taako can get away from listening to him practicing his war cry is when Lup and Barry drag him away to the lab to figure out how he came back to life. Merle keeps singing the same damn four Pan hymns while he studies the new plant life offered by the planet. (Not to mention the time Taako walked in on him alone in the bathroom with what he would assume would be a beautiful looking flower if it wasn't wrapped around his... never mind. It was an image that he wanted to burn out of his memory to say the least.) Lucretia won't stop pestering him about talking about his feelings and his past all in the name of getting an accurate account of their mission (and little else to talk about). And Davenport has convinced himself that even after three months of radio silence, that force, the Hunger as Lucretia calls it, is going to come back at any second, so he has to stand guard on the ship in case he has to shoot everyone off into the sky at the drop of a hat.

Taako is sick and tired of everyone's bullshit. He needs a break. Apparently that isn't in the cards for him though because as soon as he steps out onto the deck to try and enjoy the fresh air, Davenport stops him.

"Taako, I was just about to go looking for you. I need you to stand guard out here while I go take a breather. I've been out here for hours, and Lucretia said... I need to decompress, I guess? Anyway, I'll be back shortly."

Suddenly, Taako would rather be anywhere else than on top of the deck.

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Davenport, my dude. If you were already talking to Lucretia, why didn't you just ask her to stand guard?"

"She wanted to go with Merle and Magnus while they forage for food. We're running low on supplies." Davenport says.

Taako frowns. "Why didn't you send me to go out and forage for food then? That's kind of what I'm best at."

"Because you're really good at sending up flares and showy magic, so you can easily send up a signal to get everyone back on board at a moments notice." Seeing Taako getting angrier, Davenport adds quickly, "They'll be fine. Besides, Merle's been studying the plant life more than you have, so he probably has a better idea of what is edible and what isn't than you do."

That does not, in fact, quell Taako's anger.

"Well thank you for acknowledging I am an elf of many talents at least, but I'll have you know Merle hasn't been so much as uh- studying the plant life as you say- as he has been fucking the plant life. So if you want to eat dirt because he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, that's fine, but don't complain to me when I can't make anything that tastes acceptable from whatever the fuck they bring back."

"Taako-"

"Just go enjoy your break. I'll be up here waiting for nothing to happen until you come back."

Taako turns his back to him in a huff, and Davenport sighs but doesn't comment. Instead, he makes his way down the plank and onto the beach of the lake they're parked on.

It's a very pretty and calming scene to look at especially while coming down from an argument. The beach is made up of grey-blue sand that seems to get softer the closer it is to the ethereal lilac water that shimmers under the glow of the setting sun. The branches of the trees and other greenery surrounding the lake sway gently in the cool breeze. Taako walks over to the railing, leans against it, and sighs, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. He looks down at the small form of his captain sitting cross legged at the edge of the water. He doesn't want to talk to him, but he feels like he should probably at least try to make peace. No one knows what's happening and if they'll ever get back home, and if Taako has to spend the rest of his life with only these people, he might as well not make them hate him. He sighs again before making his way down to the beach.

"Hey," Taako says as he plops down next to him.

Davenport looks up at him with a start. "Taa- I told you to-"

"It's alright my man, I left Lup in charge," Taako lies. "Listen. I'm... sorry... about what I said up there. It was a little petty of me to uh get so upset over being told to guard the ship for a few minutes and not being sent on the foraging mission. But also, Davenport..." He sighs and turns to look at his captain. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes look dead tired with a glimmer of constant worry and stress. Taako feels a pang of guilt for being short with him earlier, but he ignores it. "Look. The Hunger isn't coming. At least not for a while. You've been standing up there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and it's accomplishing nothing except making you more stressed than you need to be. And uh, quite frankly, it's also really annoying and stressing me out when you're also pushing that main focus on other people. You need to relax, my dude, before you give yourself, and everyone else, an aneurism."

Davenport turns away from him to stare out at the water. "I guess... I suppose you're right. It's just been so hard not knowing what's going on or what's going to happen to us next... I'm in charge of keeping everyone together and safe and making decisions that's supposed to benefit the team and mission as a whole, and I don't know how I'm supposed to do that when... this is so far out of what I imagined this mission was going to look like."

"Yeah, I don't think being the sole survivors of two apocalypses was part of the job description."

They both laugh a little at that.

"Anyway," Davenport continues, "it's not like y'all have been making it any easier, but I know it's because no one knows how to handle this situation, so I'm not upset. It is slightly annoying listening to Magnus train at all hours of the day and night, but I can talk to him about that later. And Taako, you really need to stop stealing people's stuff and moving it around on them everytime someone annoys you." Taako starts to protest, but Davenport cuts him off at the pass. "I know you're the one taking my stool, and I have caught you hiding Lucretia's notebooks in the kitchen cabinets. It's really petty and annoying, and that shit needs to be kept at a minimum."

Taako laughs. He pulls his knees up to his chest and continues to stare out into the water. "I promise I'll stop doing that if you promise to take breaks more often and stop pushing everyone to be on guard 24/7."

"Deal."

The two of them spend the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink beyond the horizon and the stars blinking into view, and the bond engine at the back of the Starblaster glows just a little bit brighter as a new bond is formed.

#taz #taz balance #taz fanfic #taako #davenport #taz taako #taz davenport #stolen century #written works of Gab

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balance-and-bonds · 3 years ago

Text

Summary:

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.”

Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

Read on Ao3 or below...

“Well,” Lup says, materializing on the Starblaster with the rest of them. “That one sucked.”

There isn’t time for anything else as Barry rushes over, scooping her up and causing a small shriek of laughter. She had been gone for months, as had Merle, and at the very end, even Davenport.

Lucretia glances around out of long habit, noting everyone in their designated spot. Merle back after another Parlay, Magnus again looking hale and whole, no longer with an arm in a sling from an incident with local marauders. Taako has that old familiar presence that had been missing through the long months without his twin, the dark bags under his eyes are gone, his skin no longer ashen. Barry, too, is less pallid and sickly looking after suffering a long bout with a respiratory disease the past few months, but had been strong enough to fly the ship on the final day.

“Cycle Ninety-Five, everyone,” Davenport says from the helm, quickly checking over the navigational instruments and setting their course. He doesn't look particularly fazed after being struck dead during a last-ditch effort to get the Light. His voice, though, betrays his exhaustion. “Good work getting out of there.”

Merle is already striding over to him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Made it through another one!”

“Made it through is right,” Taako says, but even he’s smiling as Lup and Barry split apart and she throws herself at him.

“Missed ya, broseph,” she says, holding tight.

“No you didn’t,” he replies, holding back just as tight. “Have a nice nap?” After so many years their losses had become easier, but it didn’t stop them from hurting, nor from missing each other like hell.

“Hope this one’s better than the last,” Magnus says, already moving towards the front besides Merle and Davenport at the console. The others join soon after, except for one.

Lucretia stays back. She had smiled at first, for their sake, but it’s forced and anyway no one notices her. The flimsy mask slips off and she moves to the window’s edge, laying a hand on the wall to steady herself.

“This one looks promising,” Davenport says, tilting the ship in a slow circling curve so the world comes more into view.

It must be already past midday, so startling bright Lucretia has to squint and lay a hand over her brow to see. The world below is iridescent, full of blue-green forests and rich red stone, with rolling hills, winding rivers, and a distant turquoise sea on the horizon. It’s a welcome sight. After landing on the last cycle there had been no sight of the sun, perpetually cold and damp with gray seas and heavy gray skies choked with ash. The people there had a similar gray look and feel, as rugged as the terrain. Some had been hospitable and helpful but many others had been warlike and wary. Still, it was a shame to have not found the Light. But they had escaped once more. As always with a new cycle, there’s work to be done.

For now, though, Lucretia slips away and no one notices. They should be able to enjoy being together again without her sullen attitude. Out on deck, going along the helm and adjacent greenhouse, past the squat stern of the ship and around to the other side, there’s a sturdy wooden bench bolted down tight, courtesy of Magnus. There, Lucretia sits, staring blankly out, seeing little more than blue sky and distant purple-gray stormclouds.

The ship stops it’s circling and steadies out, sailing on straight and steady. Her head and body is in the shade at this angle, but at least there's sunlight on this plane, thank the gods. For a time she sits with her hands folded over her stomach, feeling it rise and fall as she sifts through her emotions.

“I made it,” she whispers, and then shivers, pulling her red robe closer, the chill of the previous world clinging like a fog. At least now she doesn’t have to tell the others. It doesn’t matter anymore.

The last cycle, Lucretia had tried to kill herself.

She survived, though. It’s good, of course. Distantly, she realizes it’s good. But she’s still so damn tired. Even if this new world is better than the previous one—which was remarkably bad—it doesn’t stop the looming danger over their heads. Nothing has really changed. She’s already so fucking done, and now she has to do it all over again. It was easier before when she hadn’t felt so alone. But more recently there’s been a slow acting poison in her veins that she’s finding harder and harder to struggle against, a voice that tells her she’s not needed. Not really. She’s not wanted, even by those who she calls her family.

So what’s the fucking point?

She breathes that in and feels it sit hot in her chest, and then tells herself to not be stupid. Things are fine; she needs to stop being so dramatic. They made it. They’re all back and safe. She should go try and help before she gets in trouble for shirking her duties. She just needs a minute. A few minutes. They won’t miss her, anyway.

She dips her head lower, trying to fight against that thought. It’s been harder, though, ever since the end of Cycle Ninety-Two when they had decided on a grand plan to beat out the Hunger, with her own plan so thoroughly dismissed. It's like they hadn’t even listened, or like she’s still seen as a child, a silly little girl. But she should be used to that.

Her job is the chronicler. All she’s meant to do is be quiet, stay on the sidelines, and record the stories of those who actually matter. Not her. Of course they wouldn’t listen to her. Why should they care what she thinks?

No. No, of course they care. She knows that. After so many years she shouldn’t be questioning this, she can’t afford to be so weak hearted. Her eyes shut tight as she wishes she could scratch out these feelings, tear them out of her head like a page of her journals. New cycle, new body, but these thoughts cling on, stubborn as a tick.

Well, she’ll just need to keep a tighter lid on herself. With everything else going on, with so much at stake, there’s no need to bother the others with her issues. She’s gotten better at being self-sufficient after Sixty-Five, or, perhaps, a bit worse. But she can handle this. She can pretend for their sake, anyway. They’re probably together now; she should join them, just not yet. They won’t notice if she’s gone a bit longer.

“Wondering where you ran off to,” Taako says from off to her right, coming from the stern as she had. It’s easier to go undetected that way, out of sight of the helm's broad windows. Her hands tighten in her lap.

“Just needed some quiet.” She had assumed he’d be spending the new day with Lup and the others, but it’s not surprising he’d want to check on her. Taako sits beside her, slouching low and letting his long legs stretch out across the wooden deck, his feet in the sun.

“How ya doing?” he asks.

“Fine.” She’s mindful enough that being silent is not a comforting response, nor does she want to worry him with the truth. Not anymore. New cycle and all that.

He’s quiet, and so is she.

She needs to be careful. He alone knows what she did last cycle. It was he who had pulled her from that oil-slick ocean, freezing and retching, and had stayed with her on that rocky shore as she broke down. He had listened to her. He hadn’t even shouted that much, which she appreciated. Then he had comforted her and half-carried her back to the silver ship, had gotten her warm food and into a soft bed, and stayed with her even then. When the others arrived back from their expedition, he kept her secret. In fact, they never openly talked about it after that day, but he was gentler with her, inviting her to spend time with him in the kitchen, and keeping her company during the days and restless nights.

He had been wonderfully kind. Still is, of course. But he doesn’t need to do that anymore. It’d be better to let him think it had been a momentary weakness and that she’s not still that pathetic. He’s got his sister back and the rest of them. He’s done enough.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him, sitting up straighter and actually sounding like it. “You should go be with the others. I’ll be there shortly.”

“Uh huh.” He doesn’t move, though, other than idly twist his heel. Then his foot stops mid-twist. Without a word he yanks off his boots and socks before kicking his bare feet into the sun. Dammit. So he’s apparently not leaving anytime soon. She slouches down beside him, feeling like she’s being babysat.

At least the others have no reason to worry about her. Lucretia glances back at the familiar ship, considering that. “You didn’t tell them, right?”

“Nuh,” he says with a faint shrug. “You asked me not to. I can respect that.”

She nods, settling back again. “Thank you.” It wouldn’t matter anyway, when their deaths are fleeting. Why should anyone care if she had killed herself, or tried to? Still, she doesn’t want them to know. She can’t bear that kind of pity.

“Ya made it through, though,” Taako says with an attempt at optimism. “Survived another one.”

“Yeah. And what was the fucking point?” The bitter words slip out before she can stop herself. She shuts her eyes, because she shouldn’t be doing this. “No. Sorry. I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Chill, Luce,” Taako says in a low voice. “Don’t do that. It’s okay.”

She’s careful to breathe evenly, her eyes burning hot, and she doesn’t want to cry right now.

“I know I made it. That’s a good thing. And it’s a new cycle, a new chance, I know all of that. But nothing’s really changed. I… don’t want to keep doing this. I can’t.”

“You gotta keep hanging in there.” He doesn’t look at her, his eyes distant. “We all are. And maybe it’ll keep sucking for a bit, but you’re here. We gotta keep trying.”

“I guess,” she says for lack of anything else. That alone isn’t reassuring. She’s not sure if she wants to be here, nor anywhere. How much longer does she have to keep going? Although of course they now have an answer to that question. She appreciates he doesn’t mention that there's a plan to defeat the Hunger at last, just not her own. That place in her heart is still soft and purple bruised.

“At least that last cycle is over,” Taako says in a more normal voice, not like he’s tip-toeing around her. “That’s gotta be in the top five worst ones. Cha’boy’s missed the sun. I can’t pull off the vampire look, and those vitamin things of Merle’s were gross. And that fucking plague?”

“That fucking plague,” Lucretia says in agreement.

“Fucking thing kept coming back, that was just unnecessary. Magnus kept me up for weeks with that cough of his.”

“I’m sure that was rough on you,” she says, smiling despite herself. Taako’s easy to be with.

“It was! Big guy kept coughing on everything, can’t believe I didn’t keel over from that alone. Then that tsunami hit, and those firestorms. Oh man, and the people? Don’t get me started on those assholes. Yeah, mark it down in your records, Luce. Ninety-four: shitty as hell.”

“And the one before that,” Lucretia says, easing a little with the familiarity. It doesn’t feel so much like letting down her walls as peeking over them. “Awful.”

“Fuck yeah, that one super sucked!”

“I’ll mark that down, too.”

“Good. This year’s gotta be better than those.” He pauses before rapping his knuckles on the wooden bench beneath them.

“Maybe,” she says. For a moment the hope is almost catching, and then it fizzles out once more. “But maybe it doesn’t matter.”

He lets out a long breath at that.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, because she’s really not trying to make him leave. She doesn’t want to push him away. “Y-you’re right, maybe this one will…” But he waves a hand to quiet her and she lets the false words die, wishing she could feel better. At least he doesn’t leave.

After a moment he stretches his arms high overhead, a long cat-like motion with even his toes flexing ahead. She watches, bemused, as he then slips down off the bench, almost gelatinous, and sprawls out flat on the deck of the ship. He sits up again a second later, only to slip his arms from the sleeves of his IPRE jacket and yank off his woolen sweater, mussing up his braid and bangs as it comes over his head. When he lays down again, it’s only in shirt sleeves. He sighs with evident satisfaction.

“Join me, Luce,” he says, not opening his eyes against the glare. His skin and hair and clothing take on a golden edge in the light of this world’s sky. A minor deity, she muses. Narcissus, perhaps. Or, more kindly, Apollo, that twin god of beautiful and refined things, of truth and of sunlight.

Lucretia hesitates and then follows his lead, pulling off her robe, then her light jacket, and then her other long sleeve shirt—she always ran cold as her mother used to say—setting them on the bench and remaining in a white tank top. Tentatively she kneels down as Taako moves his left arm up into a crook for her head to rest. The wooden beams are still cool, the chill seeping through the jacket laid out beneath them, but the sun here is warm and the sky above nearly cloudless and the color of a bluebird's wing. She shifts closer to him, a warm presence, and she breathes.

It’s… nice. It’s wonderfully warm and she soaks it in, a great relief after the last world’s frequent storms of sleet and hail and freezing rain. The sun beats down, not too strong that it’s unbearable, but pleasantly so, raising gooseflesh on her bare arms as it reddens her eyelids. The dark thoughts are still there like shadows. But, like shadows, they’re chased away by the light and it’s not just that of the sun.

Fuck, she might have needed this.

“We’re gonna get through this shit,” Taako murmurs, sounding half asleep. “And we’re doing it together, don’t forget.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, because she had forgotten. “I know.”

“It’d have been an asshole move if you left me alone with Magnus and Cap,” he says. It’s joking but doesn’t quite land.

“You would have been fine, we both know that,” she replies quietly, hoping it will come off as reassuring. He makes a little noise in his throat. Without looking she knows that he’s frowning.

“We’d have missed you. We always do.” His head turns a bit, and she tilts her chin up to meet his soft gaze. “We’re better with you here.”

She lowers her eyes, not wanting to argue but also not sure if she believes him. Ever since Ninety-Two she’s felt more and more out of place. After all, she was the only dissent. It was her idea that was so thoroughly rejected. Wouldn’t it be better for them to not have her there? Not like they have much choice. Well, unless she makes the decision for them and cuts her cycle short. She would do it for them. Would they be happier that way?

It’s a chilling, miserable thought and she pushes it down. Perhaps she’s that obvious, or he’s just that good at reading her, because his arm tightens around her.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers. He sounds so sincere. It makes her want to believe him, clutching at that slender hope. She nods, pressing her lips tight.

“Cause of you,” she manages to say. “Thank you. Really, Taako.”

She loves him, all of them, and she can’t forget that in her self-pity. It’s easier, just a little, to want to keep going. For him. For them.

“Course,” he says, his voice high and pleased before then dipping low. “And, l-listen, I get how hard it is, and it fucking sucks, but you’re still here. We both are. So… I’m proud of ya, Luce.”

Her eyes jump open at that, and the bright blue sky is suddenly a watery haze that she has to blink away. She holds onto those words, pressing them like a flower between pages, tucked away safe. It’s strange, being told she might have done something good. Despite it all, he’s still here, he cares, and that’s something, at least. Perhaps that’s what she needs, now: something to hold onto.

But she’s reminded that Taako does understand her, all too well. It’s hard for him, too, especially whenever he loses Lup. He had only mentioned it once, so offhandedly she had nearly missed it, but she knows. He’s also struggling but he pulled through, and she now finds that same pride reflected.

“We made it,” she says, this time for his sake.

“Yeah.” His breath shudders as he lets it out. “Yeah, we fucking did.”

She inches closer and lays her head against the sharp point of his shoulder, her body curling towards his. Maybe she’s not as alone as she had thought.

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” she murmurs.

She expects a quip at that, something flamboyant and self-assured. Instead he slips his arm out from over her head and brings it down between them, gripping her hand and not letting go, and she holds right on back. The sun is bright overhead and they close their eyes, both of them set out to thaw after a long winter.

Not long after she hears the main door leading outside slam open. She idly wonders if it’s Magnus or Lup, but she’s too comfortable to do anything about it.

“Lucretia?” Magnus calls out from the other side of the ship, shocking her into alertness. Listening more closely now, she thinks she can hear the door to the greenhouse also open and close. “Luce?”

She sits up as Taako lets out an annoyed groan, laying an arm across his eyes like that might shut out the noise.

“Luce!” Magnus shouts again from the back of the ship. He rounds the corner and spots them, swearing and racing over before dropping to his knees. “Luce! Are you okay?”

“I-I, yes, I’m fine. What’s wrong?” She would have gotten to her feet if he wasn’t gripping her shoulders. “What’s happening?”

“Wha… nothing,” Magnus says, visibly confused and still considerably anxious. “You just disappeared earlier and you weren’t in your room or the kitchen or, like, anywhere.”

“Sorry.” She’s so thrown off she’s not sure what to say. “I uh, just...”

“I told you I was taking care of it,” Taako mumbles. Lucretia glances over and so does Magnus, who lets go at that but frowns, almost dejected.

“Right. Yeah.” He pulls away and clumsily gets to his feet, looking out of place as he stands over them. “But you guys are okay?” His hand shields his eyes as he glances to the sun. “Kind of a weird place for a nap.”

“We’re fine,” Lucretia says reassuringly, not wanting to worry Magnus who already worries too much about all of them.

“Peachy,” Taako adds. Then he lifts his arm and looks up to Magnus, apparently considering something. “Yo Mags, join us. It’s ballin’.”

Fortunately this part of the deck is wide and accommodating because he’s awfully quick to join them, laying down on Lucretia’s other side with little fanfare. She’s content to settle back between them, tucked close.

“Okay, yeah, this is nice,” Magnus says after a minute and the other two hum in agreement. Like them, he shrugs off his winter clothing, shoving the cable knit sweater onto the bench besides hers, his jacket spread below as a blanket.

It’s not even that warm, truthfully. The air is cool at this altitude, high and crisp in her nose and lungs, but it simply makes the sunlight more welcoming. It’s like springtime in the mountains, bracing and full of promise.

Magnus clears his throat and asks conversationally, “Hey, uh, so anyone else real fucking tired of running and fighting shit all the time, or is that just me?”

“So fucking tired,” Taako says.

“Cool, cool,” Magnus says, nodding.

Lucretia’s left hand is free and so she reaches out to lightly take his, not thinking much of it but simply a quiet reassurance because she doesn’t feel like talking much. But when she does, he grips her hand back so fast and with such alarming fierceness that she flinches. It hurts. Quite a lot, actually, but she doesn’t pull away. Barely moving her head, she glances over and sees him staring straight at the sky, jaw clenched and holding his breath in his chest. She stares, that feeling seeming to catch in herself as well. He keeps holding on tight, painful and desperate as if afraid to let go. Slowly, Lucretia swipes her thumb over the edge of his knuckle, a small gentle motion. He quietly lets out that tense breath, his eyes awfully bright. Bit by bit, his grip loosens.

Right. They’re all going through this hell together. She hadn’t thought how much Magnus might be struggling, trying to protect them all as they die over and over. They’re all so damn tired. They’re all suffering. It’s strangely comforting. At least they’re not alone.

His eyes flicker over to hers, a question and apology because he probably didn’t intend to crush her hand. She smiles in answer and doesn’t let go. With that reassurance he sinks down, his strong shoulders relaxing. She subtly slips her other hand into Taako's and he lets her. They continue to lie there, holding hands like children and breathing easy. Despite the hard wood at her back and the overhang of the deckhouse above them, she can almost believe they’re back home in a grassy park, watching the clouds overhead and making pictures. There might still be that innocent joy somewhere in them, even now.

Soon they hear Lup and Barry near the pointed bow of the ship. They’re out of sight but Lucretia can picture them in her mind, close together with arms full of instruments and pads of paper, the usual scene at the beginning of every cycle. There’s chatter between them, largely indistinct, and Lucretia thinks they should maybe go help. The others don’t budge, though, and anyway she’s feeling a bit like a warm puddle.

“Thought they’d be shagging right about now,” Taako mutters, and Lucretia laughs.

“Who even says shagging anymore?” Magnus says. “What decade are you from?”

“I’m almost ancient, my dude. I’m an elf of many decades.”

They’re not so quiet to escape notice, it seems, as the voices pause and are replaced with approaching footsteps.

“Oh. Huh,” Barry says, and Lucretia creaks an eye open to find him blinking down at them.

Lup appears at his shoulder and then tips her head sideways. “You good over there?”

“Luce needed some Taako time,” Taako says with a small squeeze of his hand, which Lucretia is grateful for.

“Yeah?” Lup sounds thoughtful as she comes closer. “That so?”

“I’m here, too,” Magnus says, lazily waving an arm.

Lucretia squeezes his and Taako’s hand back, memorizing the feeling, and then starts to sit up. “It’s fine, though. We can—“

“No, no, no, this looks important,” Lup is quick to say. A moment later she’s straddling over Lucretia’s entire body, her face inches away and her hand cradling her cheek. If they hadn’t spent almost a century together this might have been startling, even terrifying. As it is, Lucretia is quite touched.

“You doing okay, hon?” Lup asks, eyes locked on her own with great intensity, apparently trying to read into her soul.

“Yeah,” Lucretia says, smiling faintly. Better, anyway. She knows what her reset looks like: the same dark circles under her eyes—a reminder of that last sleepless night before their voyage—and the unfortunate spots of acne, the same dark hair at the exact same length. But she imagines her eyes might indeed betray that deeper exhaustion, the fears and worries she’s been so careful to hide.

“Last year was kinda awful, huh?” Lup mutters, stroking her thumb over her Lucretia’s cheek before gazing around: from Taako to Magnus and the open space overhead. She does this a few times, left, right, and left again before finally slumping down between Taako and Lucretia, half crushing both of them until they squirm out from under her.

“Hey!” Taako says with an undignified squawk. “Go find your own cuddle puddle!”

“Just did,” Lup replies, sprawling an arm across Lucretia’s stomach, which Lucretia clasps on reflex.

“Welcome back, Lup,” Lucretia says softly, now feeling a touch guilty for running off earlier, and also because she’s truly missed Lup. Even when she hadn’t spoken much with her these past couple years, she misses that beautiful light that she brings with her, same as Taako and all the rest. Truth is, she’s been missing Lup for a long time.

“Was wondering where you ran off to without giving me a hug,” Lup whispers, her face against Lucretia’s shoulder as she snuggles closer. Despite the lighthearted tone, there’s a quiet concern beneath that does something to her heart. Before, Lucretia hadn’t wanted to worry the others for selfish reasons—more out of a desire to not deal with any of it—but now she remembers she really does hate causing them pain. She pulls her arm out from between them and curls it around Lup’s skinny shoulders.

Barry continues to stand near their feet, the four of them now pressed quite close and almost out of space width-wise. He doesn’t move nearer, though, looking unsure with his hands in his pockets.

“Joining in?” Lucretia asks. When he meets her eyes, he’s so tired.

This last year has been hard on him. It always is, losing Lup, and he had kept busy off the ship even more afterwards so that Lucretia had barely seen him. That had seemed for the best. She had convinced herself she was handling her own dumb emotions and didn’t need to bother him. He was—and is—going through a lot and doesn’t need Lucretia’s problems on top of all the rest. But it’s not just that. She had pulled away after his and Lup’s decision was chosen over her own. Some older, mature part of her mind knows she had been acting childishly, yet she still let that distance grow. She had left him to suffer alone this year, and guilt now gnaws at her. She hadn’t meant it to go so long. It never should have gotten this bad. They have too much history, too much love between them, to give up.

“Come on, babe,” Lup says gently. “We got space for ya.”

But rather than slot between them he steps around, squeezing past the bench and stooping to pat Magnus’s shoulder as he goes. With slow movements he lays down near their heads, perpendicular to the rest.

“If you’re gonna be there, scooch,” Taako says lightly, waving his hand forward. “I could use a pillow.”

Barry concedes with a sigh. “Been a while, huh?” is all he mutters as he moves closer to all of them. It feels like another piece of a puzzle fitting into place, another tension in her heart loosening just a bit more.

A hand comes to rest on her bare shoulder—the one Lup is nestled against—and she knows its Barry by pure touch. Against her skin he writes out a question in the cryptic language they had created over the decades, borne from accident and necessity.

You okay?

She means to answer back the standard affirmative response. Then she decides otherwise because in fact she’s not terribly good, and maybe right now that’s a little bit okay. Therefore, when she reaches up and across her chest to respond, it’s only to rest her hand over his own. He hesitates at that. She can feel his fingers twitch, troubled and restless as he interprets that. For a moment, she thinks he’ll pull away. She wouldn’t blame him. Then there comes one more message, written with care:

Okay.

He squeezes her shoulder, a comforting touch, and that’s enough. He doesn’t move his hand away, and she grips his tighter, leaning her head against it. It’s good to have him back. Maybe they can talk again. She misses that. He might miss it, too, now that she thinks about it.

Merle is next.

“You guys aren’t dead, right?” he asks when he comes up on deck, staring at them and scratching at his beard. “Cause I don’t think I’ve got that much healing in me.”

“Not yet,” Taako says. “Give us a few months and we’ll see.”

“Just getting that good ol’ vitamin D you’re always harping about,” Lup adds.

“I thought you’d have already gotten that with Barry,” Merle says. Lup aims a kick at his shin, while the others laugh or groan.

They’re definitely running out of deck space between the bench and the railing, so Merle sits cross-legged against the wooden side of the ship near Taako and Barry’s heads. He doesn’t need any extra prodding to start shedding layers, yanking off his own jacket and hooded sweatshirt. Lup and Barry had already de-robed a bit as well, whether to fit in or because the sun feels really good, it’s hard to say.

“Did I miss much the last go-around?” Merle asks conversationally.

“No,” says everyone.

“Well that’s good.”

“Gonna go do Parlay with that asshole again?” Magnus asks from the other end of the pile.

“Eh, maybe, maybe not. Not gonna be anytime soon, though. He might not be pleased to see me after I called him a sanctimonious bastard and told him to kiss my ass—“

“Nice!” says Taako.

“—But all the same… Eh.” He shrugs. “Truth is I’ve missed you fellas.”

“Missed you too, Merle,” Lucretia says with a look over, and he gives a warm smile in return.

“It’ll be good to have you back,” Barry says, reaching up to lazily tap Merle’s knee. She doesn’t remember seeing those little touches much lately, like they’ve all been closing themselves off in their grief and anxiety. Lucretia thinks again that maybe they’re all, in fact, needing this just a bit.

“Cripes this is nice,” Merle says after a little time, pants rolled up and hands hanging loose over his legs, head tilted up towards the sky and looking more like a cleric than usual. “I feel like a plant.”

“Gross,” Taako mutters from beside him, now half curled around his sister.

“But mood.” Lup, in turn, has shifted to lay spread eagle over everyone else, not that anyone complains.

Soon after there comes the sound of the helm door opening and closing, and then the echo of light footsteps from around the corner. It’s quiet for a moment, movement again, and then it stops once more. Lucretia opens her eyes from her half stupor, thinking they’ll need to get to work soon. The others shift around her, but it’s half-hearted at best.

In the silence they can all hear their captain mutter, “Where the hell…?”

“Over here,” Magnus calls out. Taako and Lup groan in sync from her other side.

“What the… what are you all doing?” Davenport barely pauses as he storms over, full of righteous fury. It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle.

“Uh…”

“We don’t have time for…” He stops, the indignation fading fast as he stutters to a halt, sharp black eyes quickly taking them all in. “Uh. I-s everything okay? This isn’t some sun poison or anything, right?”

“Nah,” Merle says with a lazy wave of his hand. “Don’t think so, anyway.”

“Good.” There’s clear relief, but also a growing confusion. “But then you all need to get up. We have work to do. What are you even doing?”

“This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.”

“Actually this is my fault.” Lucretia raises her hand. “I needed this. Emotionally.”

“Give us five minutes, cap,” Lup adds. “I also need this emotionally.”

“Same,” Magnus mutters. “I’ll take ten minutes. Last year kicked my ass.”

“Last few years, more like,” Barry says.

“When we get to a full century I’m gonna demand a pay raise,” Merle says. “And R&R.”

“Yeah, all right,” Davenport says, conceding more easily than expected. “I suppose we can spare a few minutes.”

“Got some space over here,” Merle says, patting his leg. “Join us plants.”

“Still gross,” Magnus mutters.

Davenport sighs, leaning back on his heels. It’s clear he’s considering stepping away to continue his work, not giving up the authority of captain that he’s worn for so long. Too long. It’s only then Lucretia realizes it’s been forever since the two of them had gone stargazing, spending the night with his telescope on top of the deckhouse and telling stories of the constellations, not as captain and crew but as friends. She’s been cold to him, too, and now that seems a bit unfair.

“Come on, Cap,” Lucretia says, propping an arm under her head to look at him. “It’s pretty fucking nice.” One of these nights she’ll have to bring him tea. If he’ll accept it, that is.

His mustache twitches as his gaze flickers over them, his back still stiff but he’s wavering, undeniably. He takes a moment to glance over the railing and gauge where the ship is sailing towards. As far as she can tell, it’s clear, open skies. He sighs in defeat.

“Why not.” When he looks at them again with that same critical eye, there’s a new question there, and a new bright glint. “Is undressing a necessary part of this?”

He’s answered by a chorus of: “Hell yeah!” “Obviously.” “Wait, can I take more off?” To which the answer is no.

There’s a faint laugh as he bows his head. “All right, then.” He unbuttons his jacket—scuffed in the shoulders, rubbed thin at the elbows, with the mark of a captain over the breast—before carefully slipping it off, shedding that heavy shroud of leadership, and then two more layers until he’s about as dressed as the rest of them. Davenport slips into the narrow space between Taako and the deck railing, laying his head on Merle’s lap and letting out a long and weary breath.

Then all seven are there, sprawled on the deck with their faces turned towards the sun. For a time Lucretia is pleasantly conscious of her surrounding family and of her own deep breaths and the steady beating of her heart.

“Longest two-month mission of my life,” Davenport remarks, which is met with scoffs and laughter.

“Pfft, no shit.”

“Hey, uh, not to put a damper on this,” Barry says reluctantly with an arm over his face, “but I’m gonna fry if I stay out here.”

“Oh, I’ve actually got something for that.” Lucretia takes back both her hands and raises them overhead, fingers dark against the blue of the sky. She pauses, trying to recall how it goes before spreading them wide with a whispered incantation. A translucent shield bubbles around them, flickering briefly before fading almost entirely. It becomes slightly darker than before and the burning sensation on her skin fades. Her hands drop as she settles back, quite content. “That should hold for an hour or so.”

“What’s this?” Barry asks. Lucretia rolls her head backwards to see him poke an arm through the barrier, silver magic fizzing around his skin.

“UV Blocker spell,” Lucretia says lightly, but can’t quite disguise the pride. “I created it a couple cycles back when we were traipsing through the desert with that caravan. Haven’t had a chance to use it since, but yeah. Should have thrown it up sooner, thanks for reminding me.”

“Damn, just making up spells?” Merle says with a soft chuckle, gazing about.

“That’s very impressive,” Davenport says, sitting up to better see it.

“Thanks.” Her lips twitch into a smile, unused to hearing that kind of praise, not in a long time anyway. “You know, I’m actually pretty fucking good at shields.”

She winces a little at that, and then winces harder, her face scrunching. Fuck. She honestly hadn’t meant anything by it. It was meant to be a little proud, a little in jest, but those words could easily come across as bitter. That’s not what she meant. Especially not now.

“Wait, shit,” she mutters, her face burning for a different reason. “I-I didn’t—“

“Hell yeah you are,” Lup says brightly, once again throwing an arm over her and pressing tight. Barry, too, squeezes lightly at her shoulder. Magnus chooses that moment as well to fling a heavy arm across her stomach right alongside Lup’s. It’s overwhelming, just a little, and she holds her breath.

She chances a glance over at Davenport, who’s looking at her with a gentle smile. “No arguments here.”

That clenched, cold feeling in her gut tightens for a moment, and then dissipates all at once as she lets out a long slow breath, emptying her lungs and letting her head lay back, her neck and shoulders loose. She soaks it all in: the sun and the air, and the comforting presence of her family.

Yeah. She really fucking needed this.

They perhaps stay longer than intended. Merle is almost certainly asleep, mouth hanging open and chin to his chest. Barry is faintly snoring, an arm intertwined with Lup’s which probably wasn’t the most comfortable position, while Lup’s other arm lay across Taako’s chest, her leg over Lucretia’s thigh, apparently aiming to sprawl over as many as possible. Magnus is also out like a light, curled up beside her with his jacket for a pillow.

It’s hard to see Taako from where she lies, just the top of his hair and the tip of an ear. Slowly she reaches around Lup to him, accidentally smacking his cheek before finding his shoulder, and he lifts his head in response. So not asleep, then, or not anymore. Good. She doesn’t want to forget him amidst everything else. The truth is that she wouldn’t be here without him. She might exist in this plane, sure, because that’s out of their hands, but she wouldn’t be laying there, surrounded by loved ones. He saved her. It was Taako who came looking for her when she had felt so alone. He brought her back to herself, along with all of them. A bright, golden presence. A wonderful friend. Her brother. Her family.

Against his sun-warm skin, she carefully writes:

Thank you.

His hand finds hers, his long fingers brushing over her knuckles. He also pauses before responding with a simple message that makes her heart skip.

Love you.

“That’s cringe,” she says aloud, like an idiot. Taako lets out a bark of laughter, and she’s holding back her own a little, because it's that or start crying.

“Do I even wanna know?” Lup asks drowsily, creaking one eye open.

“Nah,” Taako says with a long contented sigh. “It’s good.”

“Hmm, yeah.” When Lucretia smiles this time, it’s genuine. “We’re good.”

At the very least, they’re getting better.

#taz balance #lucretia #taako #starblaster #Stolen Century #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #emotional hurt/comfort #angst #bittersweet fluff #aka the only kind I apparently know how to write #might be a bad idea posting the whole thing here but oh well #meant this to be a drabble #On the Deck of the Starblaster

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