#Scars Basri

[108garys]

@kassiekolchek22 @delurkr @ivycross @cupofangst @myscprin @oblivious-troll-main @lonnitamongus Man I gave up by the time I got to their shirts lol

I just think Salim and Dar deserve beautiful curls 😁

[nebuluxx]

where do you belong?

[rangerdoubt]

replacement goldfish [fallen hero: retribution]

rating: gen

characters: miriam basri, hollow ground

words: 1,674

summary: “Tell me, Saboteur,” you say as delicately and archly as you can. “What, exactly, do you want me to do?” A conversation that doesn't happen. A sister that isn't yours. A leash offered, but not taken. Hollow Ground and LD's newest villain have a heart-to-heart, sort of.

NADIYYAH NADIA JAUREGUI. HOLLOW GROUND. DATE AND LOCATION UNDISCLOSED. 

“Tell me, Saboteur,” you say as delicately and archly as you can. “What, exactly , do you want me to do?” 

Saboteur looks down at her hands like they might answer for her, and so do you. Palms up. Blunt nails, long fingers. Knobby knuckles covered in starburst scarring from decades of swinging at everything in reach. Fine stitches in her skin and even finer ones in her sleeves–your doing, though you weren’t expecting her to actually wear the cufflinks that came with the suit.

Sister-not-sister. Perhaps not entirely a sister at all–and most certainly not yours. A grouchy little vandal, to be sure. On occasion, even a car thief. For an instant, the ghost that strode into Parkfield almost a year ago had made you–what, believe? Question? Hope? But the truth came out eventually. 

It had been easier to remember, when Saboteur was in the other body. Now it makes you cringe. You look into those eyes and expect to see the usual fire–and remember that a different mind lives in there now. Still too old for her face, but tired now. Lost. All crumpled metal and burnt rubber. 

Keep reading

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

The Final Run: Rashad Basri

Rashad Basri is my oldest Sidestep. My original, my main Sidestep, as it were. They're the entire reason behind my username (that and a silly Firefly reference). That being said, they have gone through several changes throughout the years.

The very first iteration of Rashad was immediately after my first run of Rebirth. I was new to the Interactive Fiction medium and, as such, I approached Rebirth quite like a video game. I randomized a name and made choices as I would have in those circumstances. As soon as I finished it, I knew I wanted to dedicate a few runs with actual characters. There were four main ways you could approach the museum, so I decided I would have four Sidesteps. Rashad was the first.

Rashad 1.0 was pretty close to the Sidestep we see presented to us in the canon: snarky, cynical, haunted and hunted and just trying to get to the next phase of their life. Their first scar, like most 'steps of the time, was Outsider. They wanted to destroy their past, move on. This was also a Rashad who had flirted with Ortega, who flirted with Mortum, who was more interested 

I made multiple runs for them, each time chipping away at little things to make them more, well, them. They became more reserved, more cautious, someone who regularly thought things through and made moves based on strategy.

A template made by in July 2019 of Rashad's then stats and info, no longer accurate and complete with amateur art.

Then I went on hiatus from the fandom. I’m sure those who were around for it can guess why.

Retribution dropped at a perfect time for me. I was nearing the end of an incredibly stressful ordeal and getting back to FHR felt like…well, it felt like coming home. I loaded up my old saves and immediately wanted to beat past me with a stick. Rashad had five saves, all of them named in the worst possible ways, and I had no way of remembering what they’d done.

So I ran Rebirth with them again. This time, I filled out the places I’d shaved off them when I’d been making them softer. This version we’ll be seeing, scene by scene, in this Final Run is the culmination of all that I’ve done with them. Rashad’s been a character who’s been with me a little upwards of five years and they’ve been through as much and changed as much as I have in that time. I'm excited to share my thoughts with you all!

Name Meaning:

Rashad (رشاد). Arabic in origin. "Good Judgement"/"Rightly Guided"

Basri (بصري). Arabic in origin. "My Vision"

Character Theme: Dangerous by Son Lux

A city razed Oh, to bury you beneath it The best endure With the dead, our true believers

[ghostofadragon]

I'm genuinely so obsessed with your sun of alcoritrés OC verse….. its so fascinating to me and i Love your drawing with the dragon & rider gear diagram it's so well thought-out!! The whole setting and the people seem so interesting i need to know More…….. do you have Information about the characters im obsessed

thank you!!! :^D its pretty new so its kind of underdeveloped but the main charas of the universe rn (and basically the only ones i have. like i said its new) are like

DRAGON INSTITUTE CONTEXT: unnamed officially as of right now but there is a thus-called Institute where several of the characters were born and raised as dragon riders. its very militarized and reminiscent of the irl (US) air force - riders are psychically bonded to their dragons from birth and use that link to communicate with them midair.

Farah "Spaceman" Al-Basri Glorymorn and her dragon Maiseylith - he's a Lockheed, built for high-altitude flights, hence the origin of the 'spaceman' callsign - are kind of the main pov characters of the universe? she's about 30-31, so a good handful of years younger than the other two i'm about to list, and hence she was in an age class underneath them in the institute and was around to learn about their short-lived War Hero Exploits and kind of revere/idolize both of them (well, not collar, but i'll get to that) as a result. since she is new i do not have an Entirely formed personality for her on the ground Yet but she's a bit of a smartass, kind enough but not very social/often the odd one out, is introduced as somewhat of an everyman, she's comparatively new to this whole active combat thing and wants to do good by her new boss:

Richas "Goldie" Auberon and his dragon [NOT NAMED YET FORGIVE ME] are the quintessential Golden Boy (hence the callsign) War Heros of the story at first. his moniker before i named him properly was 'heroguy' if that tells you anything about his narrative place. he's kind of a doomed-by-the-narrative servant of the war machine, but he does Eventually learn to be a better person. eventually. it takes a while. to the local public he's kind of a celebrity captain america type though. on the surface he's kind of the typical male video game protag emotionally constipated Man Guy archetype, but he's also just genuinely kind of a dick underneath it. he gets better though i promise. he used to have a vicious but one-sided childhood class rivalry with:

A. L. "Collar" Iscariot and her dragon Beowulf, deeply stoic and caustic, callsign named for the collar of scars around her neck - previous to the injuries she was called 'duck' because she cut it too close to the ground during training one too many times and they never let her live it down. farah is her "replacement", which is to say, farah is richas' right hand man, which is the place collar used to (bitterly and unwillingly; she did not like richas and did not want to be associated with him) have before she publicly deserted the Institute and left to, for her own reasons, follow:

Sinclair De Vautour and his dragon the Queen of Spades - a nighthawk, built for stealth: he was not raised in the institute, and bonded to QoS after he rescued her from a illegal trafficking/dragonfighting operation where she was in line for the ring. This was not an act of goodwill. He needed a weapon. (He did quickly grow to like QoS, though.) he is very much the Goth Evil Overlord kind of archetype: this is still in development but i think on paper he runs some kind of wide-scale company as a front for his operations; collar is his loyal second-in-command, there with him since (almost) the beginning. he is an orphan, though his dragonfire scars were given to him later on. he was forced to cannibalize his family to survive the event that killed them. he is generally very unforgiving and cruel. i would say he and collar almost have kind of a harrow/gideon dynamic going on if they were middle aged bitches instead of in their late teens and also were not in love with each other. and if gideon was a heartless cunt and 200x less goofy in nature. this makes no sense but you gotta trust me on it man

there is also "Lovelace", real name unknown, who is sinclair's... uh... side piece? literally do not know how else to explain it. he hired her under the guise of being his girltoy but she's actually there to do insane hacker work for him. whether they also have sex or not is irrelevant. she is wanted by the state government and has served significant time in prison for past cybercrimes. she does not have her own dragon but occasionally co-opts QoH by bribing her with food and/or baubles if she needs to go anywhere on dragonback.

like i said in there this verse is very new so there are a lot of missing or temporary details to all of this but i AM slowly chipping at it 👍 my time is currently being absorbed by namowrimo but ill get back in there eventually! dragon rider ocs are my passion 4ever

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

[ID: Three digital drawings of Jonah Davis (any, except it/its), one of @the-cooler-sidestep's Sidesteps, and Rashad Basri (they/he), one of my Sidesteps against an eggshell background. The first two are colored. The last one has them in uncolored line art.

Image 1: A shot of Rashad from the chest up. The perspective is drawn to show what it looks like for Jonah to look up at the. Rashad is a dark-skinned SWANA person with sharp, gaunt features, a hooked nose, near black eyes, heavy stubble, and wavy black hair that stops just beneath their ears. There's a scar across the right side of their face, extending from above the eyebrow to just above their jaw. They are wearing a black t-shirt and a green jacket with the collar popped up. They look down in clear discomfort.

Image 2: A shot of Jonah from the waist up. The perspective is showing what Rashad sees looking down at Jonah. She is a pale skinned person with wavy, platinum blonde hair pulled back at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, soft features, an oval face, green eyes, and two small scars - one extending up from the left side of their jaw and one extending down from the bridge of hir nose. Xyr wearing a long-sleeved brown cardigan over a grey turtleneck sweater. Her arms are crossed over eir chest. A white speech bubble with a purple outline and text reads, "...Jesus Christ." with the word "Christ" italicized, underlined, and in all caps.

Image 3: A wide shot of both of them, standing about a foot apart, just looking at each other in upset. Rashad's shoulders are slightly slumped and Jonah's arms are still crossed. A little red measuring lines shows the distance between the top of Jonah's head and the top of Rashad's. The number next to it reads, "One foot, two inches"

End ID.]

tfw the special directive put too much and too little growth serum in your respective vats

based off a convo with @cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal. Rashad doesn't like being tall and Jonah was fine with being 5'3" until about ten seconds ago. Now they're both gonna be dramatic about it

[amlovelies]

thank you for tagging me to take this quiz with my ocs @wayhavenots

Cynthia got Love as hunger

[ love as ravenous desire, love as something fragrant and home-built ] when florence welch said "we all have a hunger" and when jenny slate asked "who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?" and when violet trefusis wrote "I want you hungrily, frenziedly. passionately. I am starving for you..." and when anne carson asked "what are we made of but hunger and rage?"

Kyra got love as violence

[ love as bloodshed, crimson as a knife slipped between your ribs ] when ocean vuong said "to arrive at love, then, is to arrive through obliteration" and when franz kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself; that is love" and when ada limon said "how do you love? like a fist. like a knife" and when richard siken said "sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine

Emma got love as tenderness

[ love as gentleness after a lifetime of cruelty ] when ocean vuong said "sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined" and when pablo neruda said "like a jar you housed the infinite tenderness and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar" and when anais mitchell wrote "all i've ever known is how to hold my own, and now i wanna hold you, too”

curtis got love as light

[ love as a luminous force—warm, radiant, and golden ] when mary oliver wrote "light of the world hold me” and when charles bukowski said “I look at her and light goes all through me” and when david viscott said “to love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides”and when e. e. cummings said “lovers alone wear sunlight

I’m not going to tag anyone since i’m going this so late, but if it looks fun please consider yourself tagged and let me see your results!

[depressed-sock]

Kiyo and Mortum stuff

A fallen hero fanfic

3rd person practice

tw: depression, ask to tag

Maybe it should be Ortega that he should go to. Maybe even Chen.

But the thoughts tangle with the fears that cling and hang and burn

And he pushes the thought as far away as possible. He can't keep doing this. Can't keep playing with fire by letting them see the bits and pieces of him that fall apart.

Chinks in his armor. Scratches that dig too deep on the metal plates that ordained his suit.

Knighted by his own hand to stand for justice only to find he bleeds gold. Bleeds for greed and desperation and selfishness

And selfishness that bleeds into a desperation into greed to find anything to live for.

Selfish like his relationship with Mortum. Holding onto the only person who makes him feel safe in a world full of knives that cut and show the truth to everyone he doesn’t want to see

The only person that already knows the truth, has accepted the part of him he wants so badly to erase. Needs to erase.

The only person, who even before that, gave him a sense of comfort of safety by just being in the same room. Always asking for quiet permission. Always asking, always listening.

He worries about that sometimes, until he remembers he’d rather have the fake comfort for as long as he can.

Maybe he should feel bad that it's not Ortega or Chen that feels safe. In the past, they might have been the answer but it was already so rare. Now… now it's almost impossible to find that with anyone.

Except with Mortum. Mortum who sees him and knows the truth. No judgment. Maybe some bitterness that it hadn’t started the right way. But he still asks.

Still hugs. A warm embrace that holds him as he lets himself break in a way he has never done in front of another person before.

Maybe to someone else it should have been Ortega. Should have been Chen. But he knows that for things like this, it can't be them.

Because with Mortum no questions are hiding behind anything. No reason to look at your state and ask why.

Just the comfort of words and warmth and secrets already known.

[kissingagrumpygiant]

Imagine Farm!Anna being like a drug sniffing dog tho. They doll her up for parties and she just goes up to people with bad thoughts and sits down. Person gets tackled by security lol

that...... is actually exactly what i imagined sidestep’s job as. the perfect security system, able to sense ill intent from whatever direction and neutralize it. 

its also the reason why i never draw her face with scars lmao. you’ll definitely suspect the short angry lady at the corner of the event covered in scars, and they def covered that up once they got her back 

[ill-heart]

Writing list

So hi there, after spending so much time writing shitty prompts on tumblr, I thought it would be great to make a list which gather all of them. 

So you can focused on the “writing” side of my blog if you want, or find some texts easier. 

Westworld AU

. Kisses and Powder (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman): Part 1

Brothers or Anarchy AU (To the oldest to the newest text)

. Ride my motorbike with me (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Hurt/Comfort & first kiss

. A cop and handcuff kink (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Explicit smut

. Kink for the win (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Explicit smut

. What fears makes you do: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 {Update 18.04: FINISHED}

Bonus: The storming rage inside me 

Hoathememonth

. Will of the hill (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Sacrifice 

Prequel: Call of the Hill

. Heal my soul before I die (Dar Basri/Salim Othman) - Injury

. Win the game or win the heart (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Submit

Hoathememeweek

. Kiss on my hand (Dar Basri/Salim Othman) - Hands

. Call of the Hill (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Venomous

. Fears of Vicious Whispers (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Insecurities

. Why desire can wait (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Domesticity

All sorts of things

. Under the warm rain (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Explicit smut

. My brighter sun (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Song fic

. Loving nights (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Smut & drama

. The sun who banishs the void (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Hurt/Comfort

. A talk through whispers (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Explicit smut & Hurt/Comfort

. Sweet revenge (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Explicit smut 

Bonus: drawning from @deadlilmoon here

. Rough night, silent mouth (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman) - Smut & teasing

Inspired of Deadlilmoon’s work

. Kissing scars (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

. Fun on the table (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

. Nightmare series (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

. A strom of kisses (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

. Dad Jason (Jason Kolchek & Amina Othman Kolchek)

. Sitting in lap hug (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

. Hug after a fight (Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman)

[108garys]

@kassiekolchek22 @delurkr @mistmoose @ivycross @cupofangst @oblivious-troll-main @somewhereinthepines @myscprin After drawing a young Dar I figured I'd draw a current year version, he'd be in his mid 60s at this point, at least that's where I'd put him 20 years post hoa

[teatime-with-owl]

Hello! I'm interested in your deck lists you mentioned earlier, would you mind sharing them ? Imalso a long time knight player, and i got a gisela goldnight commander that I'm working on :) have a nice day !

Of course I'll share them!

first my Knight deck that I use for both Arena and paper magic

12 Plains (GRN)

4 Rimrock Knight (ELD)

3 Luminarch Aspirant (ZNR)

1 Luminous Broodmoth (IKO)

4 Venerable Knight (ELD)

7 Mountain (RNA)

3 Selfless Savior (M21)

1 Maul of the Skyclaves (ZNR)

3 Skyclave Apparition (ZNR)

3 Showdown of the Skalds (KHM)

1 The Circle of Loyalty (ELD)

2 Embereth Shieldbreaker (ELD)

3 Worthy Knight (ELD)

2 Basri's Lieutenant (M21)

4 Inspiring Veteran (ELD)

1 Bonecrusher Giant (ELD)

1 Giant Killer (ELD)

2 Seasoned Hallowblade (M21)

1 Temple of Triumph (M21)

2 Furycalm Snarl (STX)

And for my Commander deck

Commander

Aurelia Exemplar of Justice

Planeswalker (1)

1 Gideon Jura

Creatures (14)

1 Ash Zealot

1 Danitha Capashen, Paragon

1 Odric, Lunarch Marshal

1 Sram, Senior Edificer

1 Brass Squire

1 Tiana, Ship's Caretaker

1 Ironclad Slayer

1 Oreskos Explorer

1 Relic Seeker

1 Wyleth, Soul of Steel

1 Kor Cartographer

1 Rebbec, Architect of Asecension

1 Ardenn,Interepid Archaeologist

1 Frontline Medic

Spells (17)

1 Dawn Charm

1 Generous Gift

1 Wear // Tear

1 Swords to Plowshares

1 Unbreakable Formation

1 Boros Charm

1 Temur Battle Rage

1 Master Warcraft

1 Disenchant

1 Deflecting Palm

1 Winds of Rath

1 Response // Resurgence

1 Return to Dust

1 Open the Armory

1 Valorous Stance

1 Path to Exile

1 Sevinne's Reclamation

Enchantments (10)

1 Spirit Mantle

1 Ethereal Armor

1 On Serra's Wings

1 Unquestioned Authority

1 Timely Ward

1 Faith Unbroken

1 Sigarda's Aid

1 Quest of the holy Relic

1 Sage's Reverie

1 Sheilded by faith

Artifact (17)

1 Blackblade Reforged

1 Boros Signet

1 Sol Ring

1 Blazing sunsteel

1 Fireshrieker

1 Commader's Plate

1 Loxodon Warhammer

1 Sword of the Animist

1 Brass Squire

1 Sword of Vengeance

1 Arcane Signet

1 Sunforger

1 mask of memory

1 Prowler's helm

1 Talisman of Conviction

1 Swiftfoot Boots

1 Seraphic Greatsword

Lands (40)

14 plains

9 Mountains

1 Rogue's Passage

1 Boros Guildgate

1 Boros Garrison

1 Terramorphic Expanse

1 Evolving Wilds

1 Wind-Scarred Crag

1 Slayers' Stronghold

1 Memorial to War

1 Command Tower

1 Stone Quarry

1 Rupture Spire

1 Sunhome, Fortress of the Legion

1 Forgotten Cave

1 Encroaching Wastes

1 Myriad Landscape

1 Rupture Spire

1 Secluded Steppe

(sorry if its a bit of a long post)

[erintoknow]

be scared with me

retro-actively calling this for ockiss week even though this has been sitting as a WIP for months now @ratkingkisses​‘s Zia Basri x Ariadne Becker, Fallen Hero: Rebirth OCs ~4.2k words [AO3]

–

“Come on darling, no more dawdling!” Zia Basri pulls at your arm, her elbow locked with yours. You let her pull you along, past the doorman whose thoughts are none the wiser over your faked tickets. “Now this is a party.” Zia’s smile is broad and unguarded as her eyes sweep over the ostentatious gold and silver decorations of the wide ballroom floor.

Your own eyes fixate on the large chandelier hanging in the center of the room. In its shadow is a buffet table. Or more accurately, a series of buffet tables arranged into a rectangle. Hrm. Anyone gets any funny ideas about the lights, only the help managing the food will be crushed.

Disappointing.

No pressure pushes down on your awareness, no sensation of static drowns out the buzz of minds around the two of you. The Dampeners aren’t on then. Good. That bribe hadn’t been for nothing. That’ll make tonight much, much easier.

You glance back over to Zia, slightly above eye-height for once thanks to her high-heeled shoes. “S–stay focused.”

Zia doesn’t look at you, only the slightest quirk of her lips. “Of course.”

“I’m serious.” You hiss. “We only have the one shot at this.”

“Ari. Dear.” Zia laughs, shaking her head. “I’m a professional. Please.”

“Yeah. N–not – not helping.”

Robbing from, Henry Yasuda, one of the richest men in Los Diablos is not exactly the smartest thing you’ve ever done, but if it puts a dent in his prestige and political power it’ll be worth it. That was Zia’s pitch to you anyway. You’re pretty sure she doesn’t care about the political angle. Just getting a piece of the pie.

And, well, that money would help along several other projects you’ve had sitting on the back burner.

And it’s a very large pie.

You put your free hand to the frame of your sunglasses. Is it gouache to wear them indoors at a high society event? Probably, but fuck these guys. No one seems to be paying either of you much mind. Lost in their only little worlds, no doubt helped along by Zia’s telepathic talents. You can feel the edge of her awareness brush past yours, getting a feel for the room at large.

“Relax.”

You snap your head back to Zia, and she laughs at you.

“It’s a good plan.” She disentangles your arm from hers. “I’ll finish taking stock here. You take care of setting up plan B.” With a soft push to your back, Zia sends you stumbling out away from her.

Right.

The plan.

Stick to the plan.

You made the plan. So. Better stick to it. The plan, that is.

Yes.

Adjusting the strap of your purse you glance around, pick up the location of the restroom from a nearby mind and head off in that direction. In a fashion, the plan is the same as the original Plan. From the Gala debut. Only this time, the explosions are plan B. If the two of you can get out of this without any fighting, that would be ideal. No fighting, no hint that anything’s wrong.

And if you get caught… well, that’s where plan ‘B for bomb’ comes in. No time for thieves if super villains are attacking right? Slip out in the chaos. Ideally with the prize still.

In a locked bathroom stall, you remove the explosive charges from the false bottom of your purse and prime them for the radio signal. Back in at the top of your purse they go and you take a minute at the bathroom sink before for cover and to psych yourself up.

You’ve been over the schematics a million times. You know exactly where to place the charges to maximize noise and debris while minimizing the risk of casualties. And if something does get hurt… well, these people are all rich out of their minds anyway. A little psychological scarring builds character.

Exiting the bathroom again, you spare a thought towards Zia as you make your rounds around the ballroom. She seems to be doing okay. Thoughts calm except for – well, she’s always eager for excuse to really stretch her abilities. Show off. Showing off for you, you’re not sure. You’re the only one that knows Zia Basri as anything but a reclusive and retired industrialist. The Nemesis to your Adrestia.

You linger by a wide, double-paned window, one hand surreptitiously palming the last charge onto the rim of a potted plant. You’ve got a clear view of Zia across the bustle of the floor. Wrapped in a gown of black with pink accents, the metallic silver glint from her jewelry catching the lights. She’s chatting up another woman in a sharp black suit. Typical.

The two of you should have gone your separate ways after the escape. Your continued partnership like this is a risk. A weak point. One of you screws up, and you’ll both be damned. This is it. This is the last time you’re working with her. This time for real.

Getting close to people is a liability for… people, like yourselves. Depending on others is a liability. And Zia is arrogant about the extent of her telepathy and full of herself besides. Sure, she’s saved you a couple times at this point but it was a matter of practicality. You going down would only risk exposing her as well.

Look out for number one, that’s all that –

The woman Zia’s been talking to laughs, stepping into Zia’s personal space. Wrapping an arm around her back and – oh. They’re kissing. You grit your teeth. Zia enjoys flirting, of course she’s going to flirt here. Hardly a surprise for this to happen.

God they’re going at it. This is risky as hell. Even Zia has to know that. Look at her body language. Stiff, and – is that her hand shaking? You’re too far away to be sure. You shake your head. Try not to clench your fists as you walk over. Walk. Not storm. Relaxed, not tense. Why would you be tense? Absurd. Crazy.

“Basri. There you are.” You flash a terse smile at Zia and her new ‘friend.’

They break apart. Zia quickly stepping away and smoothing out her dress. Her companion raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you.

“B–becker.” Zia nods at you, flashes a smile back, “Back so soon?”

“Mmhm.” You step towards her, a hand on her arm. “Can I talk with you?” You glance at the other woman. “Alone?”

“I – yes. Yes, of course.” She gives an awkward wave as you pull her away. “Loved chatting with you dear!”

You pull her along, into one of the side hallways stretching down into the wings of the building. You let go of her arm, glancing back towards the ballroom. “Are you okay?”

Zia frowns, rubbing where you touched her. “I was doing just fine until you so rudely pulled me away.”

“I–I–I can’t – Okay. Fine. We need to – to talk. Now.” You glance around, “Privately.”

“So eager to keep me for yourself, sweetheart?”

You ignore her jab, an open door to a study off the hallway catches your attention. That’ll work. Don’t pick up anyone else inside. You push Zia into the room, pulling the door shut behind you both. “What – what the fuck were you thinking!?”

The other woman smiles quietly to herself, easing out the crinkles in her dress. “I don’t understand what you mean, my dear.” She props herself up against a wardrobe, crossing her arms. “We’re here for a job. Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun along the way.”

“Fun!?” You grit your teeth, strain to keep your voice down. “That–that–that woman was halfway down your throat!”

Zia’s smile broadens into a smirk. “Jealous?”

You step back, “N–no! Ugh! You always do this!” Throw your hands into the air as you storm over to the room’s one window. “Suppose Little Miss Handsy got too frisky? Huh? What’re you going to do then?”

Zia yawns, waving the thought away with a hand. “Oh, I suppose I’d have to wipe the poor dear’s mind. Make her think she got a little too drunk.” She shrugs. “Nothing would happen.”

“And the security cameras? Everyone else in the fucking ballroom?”

“Please, sweetheart, You of all people should know just how powerful I am these days.”

You turn away from the window to stare her down again. “That’s not – that’s not your risk to take, Zia! W–we’re in this together!”

She doesn’t look back at you, studying her fingernails. “For as long as it’s convenient at any rate, my dear handmaiden.”

“Oh fuck off.” You storm towards her, “You can’t keep treating everything like it’s some big game!”

“Isn’t it?” Her smile collapses into a frown as she finally looks over at you. “I’m sick of hiding all the time, and I’m sick of these…” She tugs at the collar of her dress, a look of disgust on her face. “turtlenecks. All the time! One day I want to wear something flashy and not fear for my life!”

Ah. “So y–you were scared back there.”

Zia snaps back to you, letting go of her dress. “I didn’t say that!”

You shake your head, rubbing at your temples. “You were tenser then a coiled spring. I saw your hand shaking.”

“They were not.” Zia snorts. “The only scared woman here is you, dearie. Scared, and jealous.”

“I wasn’t–” you swallow the words back, heart in your throat. “Okay. You know what. Fine. Fine! I–I–I am. Jealous. I admit it.” You put a hand to your chest, as if you could hold your heart in from exploding.

Zia blinks, taken aback. You’ve called her bluff.

“At least – at least I can. Admit it. You – you cocoon yourself in your little act and you think if no one sees the real you, nothing can hurt you!” You laugh, can’t believe you’re actually saying this out loud finally. “When we first met, I thought you were so – so ‘cool’ so ‘imposing.’ That you had it all together, but you know what?” You jab a finger at her. “I–I–I see right through you now. You’re just as scared as I am. No,” You shake your head. “More scared! You’re too scared to even let yourself be scared.”

Silence stretches out between the two of you. Ah fuck. You went too far this time. You’ve blown it.

“Are you done?” Zia stares at you, her expression unreadable. Shaken? Uncertain? Or are you just projecting?

Take a deep breath. Hold. Exhale. “N–no. There’s, um. There’s one more thing.”

“Wha–” Zia doesn’t get to finish speaking as you pull her into an embrace. Her body is rigid in your arms.

“It’s… it’s okay to be scared.”

There’s silence, and then, a weak laugh. “We should… finish the mission.”

You let go of her, heat flashing across your face. God. You idiot, what were you thinking? Zia steps away, and quickly averts her head. But not before you catch a flush across her face. You try not to stare. Thoughts like smoke, melting away before you can read anything coming off her.

You cough and take a step back yourself. “R–right. The… the mission.” You run a hand under your purse strap. “Plan B is ready.”

Zia looks back to you, her usual cool demeanor coming back. “Then let’s get started on Plan A.” She sweeps a hand back through her hair. Pulling back her hand, she twirls a pair of bobby pins between her fingers before they vanish up a sleeve. “Lead the way, my dear handmaiden.”

You roll your eyes and don’t say anything. You’ve given up on the whole name thing. You could just change yours, but it’s the principle of the issue. It’d be like admitting defeat. Putting a hand on the door handle, you pause a moment to get a sense if anyone’s looking out in the hallway. Satisfied you open the door, Zia following you back outside. “Alright, first stop the security station. You ready to fish?”

Zia nods in the affirmative as you glance back to her, a smirk playing across her face. “Cakewalk.”

“Just – just try to restrain yourself. And – wait for my signal. No more diversions. Stay focused.”

“Getting bossy aren’t we?” Zia laughs as you glare at her. “Worried?”

“You wanted me to plan this. So I – I did.”

“Relax. I have total confidence in you.”

You frown at that. “We meet up at the vault.” Turning away you hesitate, glance backwards. “Be careful. I – I’m fucking serious.”

–

Sneaking into security offices is starting to become old hat. Can’t deny that you and Zia make a good team. One takes care of the CCTV and other security, the other gets the target to practically hand over the goods. If anyone’s caught on yet, there hasn’t been any sign of it.

It only takes a few carefully planted suggestions to pull the sap stuck watching the security cams into a deep sleep. Stepping around him, you plug the USB stick with the virus ready to deploy. The monitor screens flicker for a moment and then nothing. You bite back a smile as you pull the stick back out. By the time they notice anything wrong, if they notice anything wrong, it’ll be too late.

From there, it’s a matter of a few careful keypresses to turn off the laser detectors and alarm system. You’ve got maybe half an hour before someone checks on the office and resets the alarms.

Plenty of time.

Hopefully.

Closing your eyes you stretch out your awareness, find the hazy void of thought that masks Zia’s presence and give it a sharp prod. A moment passes and you feel a hard shove in return.

Okay. Great. So far, so good.

Closing the door behind you you set off down the hallway. You’ll take the long way around. Hopefully Zia doesn’t need any help. She’s a better telepath than you are. Better at manipulating people even without that advantage. She’ll be fine. She has to be fine. It’ll work out you just have to –

You pull hard against the wall as a guard walks past. Nudge his attention away from spotting you alongside the hallway. He walks past without stopping, eyes straight ahead, whistling a bored tune.

You should spend less energy worrying about Zia and more on paying attention to yourself. Cursing under your breath, you wait a second to confirm and then head off again. You and Zia both have your skinsuits on under everything, if it comes down to it. It’d be such a waste of a dress though.

The vault is further back into the mansion, away from the bustle of the ballroom and the party showing off Yasuda’s influence. As you get closer, there’s no sign of Zia. Already inside? No – you can pick her coming up the other end of the hallway. Behind schedule, but still within allowance.

Zia catches your eye and the two of you exchange nods. Trailing on Zia’s arm is Henry Yasuda himself, babbling some braggart story that Zia clearly hasn’t been paying attention to. He looks at you, eyes sliding off you face, a dazed, glossy look to them. Dreaming? Well, as long as Zia can get him to open the door.

You hang back, taking flank. “Any trouble?”

“Of course not.” Zia pulls her arm away from Yasuda, giving him a soft push towards the door. “Now, what did you want to show me, sweetheart?”

The man mumbles something, an unintelligible mix of English, Spanish, and Japanese. Presses his hand against the door, frowns, then tries again. Twice more before he finds the keypad. 

Zia snickers, “Find the right strings and they fall over themselves to help you ruin them.”

“F–focus.”

“Oh, you’re no fun.” She waves you away, pouting. “Look at him, thinking he’s getting something out of this. Adorable.”

You hold your breath. On the third try, the keypad turns green under Yasuda’s fingers and the doors click open. The two of you let him enter first, following quickly behind before the doors can shut.

Zia claps her hands together, looking around the shelves lining the walls of the modest-sized office. “Very nice.” Instead of books, a collection of jewels, fossils, and historical artifacts fill the shelves. A collection of paintings are haphazardly arranged on easels in one corner. Temporary relocation during the party? Huh. They’re either worth a lot, or not enough.

Glancing over at Zia, you grab her arm, pulling her hand back from a display box of gems. “Don’t touch anything.” You hiss. “No fingerprints.”

“You’ve got space in that purse.”

“Limited space. Com’on.” You gesture to Yasuda. “Put him out and keep an eye open while I look.”

Grumbling, Zia waves at Yusada dismissively and the man crumbles into a heap in the corner, lights out. “What’s the point of breaking in if we don’t steal anything?”

“Priorities.” There’s a desk and computer at the far end. Dipping a hand into your purse you pull out a pair of plastic gloves, snapping them on. “This is worth more, and harder to track.”

“But where’s the romance?” Zia’s eyes dip down to your hands. “I don’t suppose you…?”

“No.”

“Ugh.”

“Could have packed your own.”

Zia doesn’t have anything to say to that.

You don’t risk sitting down on the chair, pulling it back and out of the way as you jam another USB stick into an open port. A few nerve-wracking seconds later the login screen on the monitor disappears, replaced by the desktop. Fist pump in the air, just the tiniest, most restrained motion, but it catches Zia’s attention.

“Going well?”

Nod as you sort through the files, pulling passwords, account numbers, anything that looks like it might be valuable. “Fucker thought he’d be safe keeping his computer off the network.” You snicker, shaking your head. “We should be able to do some real damage before they catch on.”

“Mmm.”

“Look at some of this stuff, this folder is literally labeled ‘Blackmail’ it’s beyond parody. It doesn’t even look to be encrypted. These people really think they can just do whatever they want–”

“Look, dear, I’ve been… thinking about what you said.”

The tentative tone in Zia’s voice gives you pause and you spare a glance over to her. Your fellow super villain is pacing the walls of the room, facing away from you.

“You’re just… well, so weak–”

You frown and shift your focus back to the computer. For a moment you thought this was going to be something heartfelt. But no. It’s just Zia being Zia. What did you really expect? She keeps talking but you’re only half paying attention, waiting for the jab or the fake-out you’ve come to expect from her.”

“–but your weakness hasn’t made you any less strong; And I… well…”

A sharp piercing ringing cuts through the area. You jump, cursing as you bang your knee on the edge of the desk.

“That wasn’t me!” Zia is tense, on alert as you look over to her, quickly backing away from a shelf.

“W–what did you – I told you not to–”

“Was hardly my doing, darling, I promise you.” Zia frowns, a challenge in her stare. “You ready to go?”

You tsk, wincing at the computer screen. “C–can you buy me a minute?”

Zia glances towards the far corner of the room, then up towards the ceiling. You can feel the edge of her telepathic presence skirting around you. “I just redirected to guards who were on their way here. As beautiful and talented as I am, my dear, I can’t keep that up forever before it becomes obvious.”

“Right.” You take a breath, chewing on the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. “Right. Okay. Okay.” Check the contents of the USB. Not everything you wanted, but can you really afford to waste any more time? But – but – but…

“Ariadne!” Zia’s voice is sharp and loud, cutting through the noise both in the air and in your head. You snap your head up, find her eyes.

You nod. Take a breath. You dip down to pull the USB out of it’s port and slip it back into your purse, then log off the computer. “Okay. Let’s go.” Power-walking back to Zia, already waiting by the doors. Peeling off the plastic gloves and tucking them away as you go. One hand in your purse, finds the remote detonator, thumbing the trigger.

Zia eyes your arm and cocks her head to the side, a smirk on her face. “Time for plan B?”

“Time for plan B.”

Her grin only widens.

You press the trigger as the two of you step into the hallway. Half a second later, a soft ‘boom’ rattles the paintings hanging from the walls followed by series of screams.

Your partner in crime cackles, clapping her hands together. “Well! I suppose we should be good girls and evacuate with the rest of the sheep now.”

You bite back a smile. “I sincerely doubt anyone has called you a ‘good girl.’”

In the chaos of people fleeing the smoke, Zia and yourself are able to slip back into the crowd. Just another pair of wannabe socialites having a terrible time of it. Nothing to see here. Once outside, you’re able to slip onto the street before the police arrive. Walk a few blocks before calling a taxi cab.

The come down from after an operation is always a little surreal. That slowly sinking realization that once again, you haven’t been caught. Zia directs the cab driver back to her penthouse suite, because of course you always have to debrief there. She has standards after all. Ones much higher than a dingy corner of a refurbished workshop.

As soon as the two of you are safely inside, you drop your purse on a table and collapse onto an open couch. You can change clothes later, when the shock finally wears off.

Zia snickers from the kitchen table, something alcoholic and fruity smelling in her hand. “Tired already, my dear handmaiden?”

“Aren’t you?”

“This is the part I hate. Where all the, the uh, the doubts come filtering in.” You groan into the couch mattress. “Why did the alarm go off early? Will Yasuda remember us at all? What if there was some sort of recording device or secondary CCTV we missed? What if someone places us there and realizes we weren’t on the guest list? What if all the files are dummy data or one of them is some kind of trap? What if–”

“Ariadne.” Zia laughs, cutting you off. “Relax darling. Everything went fine. Between my talents and your planning, everything went off without a hitch. It was flawless much like these…”

You hear a a solid ‘clunk, clunk, clunk’ of something heavy being laid out on the kitchen table. Eyes wide you shot up from the couch and stare over at Zia who sits back, watching you, a sly smirk on her face. A series of brilliant blue sapphires glitter under the kitchen light.

“Oh my god.” Your voice cracks. “I – I told you not to touch anything.”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “If we didn’t steal something they’d know you’d broken into that computer for sure.” She picks up one of the gems, turning it over in her fingers. “A common jewel thief is much less concerning than a hacker wouldn’t you say?”

You blink.

Frown.

“I…” Chewing at your cheek again you get up from the couch and walk over to the table. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” Zia blinks, taken aback, a hand to her chest. Her surprise is gone just as quickly, cool confidence radiating back out. “Of course I am.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You try to scowl, but can’t keep it up under the shear pleased expression on Zia’s face.

Zia preens, brushing her hair back with a smile. “No, no, do keep going. Tell me how I’m right again?”

“I take it back.”

“Too late.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Miss Jealousy?”

“I–” You shut your mouth and purse your lips, glaring down at Zia in her seat. “What was that you were trying to say back there, anyway? Right before you set the alarm off?”

“I–? I did not set off the alarm!” Zia scoffs, hand to her chest again. “And anyway, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hrm.” Something in the back of your head screams at you as you step in closer. This is a mistake. You can’t trust giving someone like Zia this much power over you. And yet –

“Ariadne?” Zia stares back at you, challenging.

You dip in, a kiss on the cheek and pull back before she can make a decision either way. Zia blinks, caught in a moment of unguarded shock as she puts a hand to where your lips touched her. The full weight of her telepathic presence presses against yours. Probing, questioning. “S–still… still scared, I see.”

“Me? Scared?” Zia scoffs, pulling her hand back down, willing her expression back to something more neutral. “You’re mistaken.”

You bite your lip. Fuck. There’s too many ways this ends badly. What are you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind?

“Well then…” You offer a hand out to your partner-in-crime. “Be scared with me?”

[ashglory-writes]

another heart’s asylum - chapter 1/10

Who’s ready for a good old-fashioned bodyswapping adventure???  A huge shoutout to Rana​ for looking this over for me, thank you so much!!

[Read it on AO3] - | Next Chapter

~ 2.8k words, rated T, f/f Chargestep (Serena/Julia), contains spoilers for Retribution!

What would you do if you woke up in your girlfriend's body? Hopefully the same thing you would do if you woke up in your enemy's. Otherwise, you might have a problem on your hands.

As it so happens, Julia Ortega has a problem. So does Serena Basri.

There's a vise strangling Serena's spine when she wakes. The pain reaches down to the bone.

This is agony she hasn't felt since Heartbreak – or rather, its aftermath. Nothing has ever hurt as much as that year she spent in 'recovery' after the Farm doctors removed her pain-gate.

To this day she doesn't know if it was punishment for her first escape, or if it had just been so damaged by the fall that its removal was a necessity. All that matters is that they hadn't given it back; that even if it was not meant as punishment at first, that is what its absence had amounted to in the end.

Sleep's haze lifts from her mind, already racing. Wrongness prickles at her thoughts. There's something off about everything here: situation, location, her own self.

Observations swarm like flies around a carcass: the too-soft and too-warm mattress; her arms, longer than they should be; the glint of metal out of the corner of her eye; the shape of her body, soft where it shouldn't be and dramatic in its curves and angles; but worst, and most damning of all, is the silence.

It's not the smothering blanket of telepathic dampeners, nor is it the round-cornered smog that comes from anti-telepathy drugs. She's experienced both forms often enough to be certain. This is just pure, knife-like absence.

It's not unlike being in her puppet's body, especially that first time she slipped into Eden's unpolished, granite-grit shell. But Eden's body is broken in like a new pair of shoes now, worn soft and comfortable, flexible, almost as if it were her own.

It's disconcerting that she's ended up in someone's body without knowing how. But Serena can sort out the how and the why of it all later, in her own body. Away from this pain.

So she closes her eyes, and prepares to loose her soul from this shell...

And nothing happens.

She opens her eyes, staring down at a pair of hands that aren't hers but are intimately familiar nonetheless. Revelation seeps through her mind like groundwater through earth as she registers the blots of silver and chrome peeking through the synthskin of her palms.

These are modded hands.

These are Julia's hands.

Serena's first instinct is to deny the absurdity. She can't be in Julia's body. It's just shouldn't happen.

She knows she has dreams. Some that seem impossible to disentangle from memory, that feel so real she has immediately check herself for injuries the instant she wakes. This is no dream.

Still, these are undeniably Julia's hands. When she cranes her head to look around, she begins to recognize the angles of Julia's bedroom, the stupid bedside lamp, the sleek carpet, the heavy curtains pulled shut over arching windows. Serena is in Julia's body, in her apartment– her life? Involuntary sparks dance up and down her fingers as her distress grows.

There's no trace of Julia's mind lurking in the corners. When Serena possesses people she quashes their thoughts under her own consciousness, but they don't just vanish. They're still there, thin and clinging to the inner walls of the skull, waiting for her permission to inhabit themselves again. The only time that she has ever been inside a truly silent mind is when she makes the jump into Eden's body, and even then she can still feel the indentations left in the brain from a lifetime of someone else's thoughts.

Search as she might, nothing feels odd about Julia's head. The same, however, can't be said about Julia's body.

Give the mind enough time and it can grow used to anything, even pain. That doesn't mean that it's vanished. Only that Serena has had time to adjust, and knows to brace for the flood of fire that spills out from her spine when she forces herself off the bed.

She doesn't have time for pain to hold her back. She's had to push past adjacent hurts before, and with even less on the line than what is at stake now. Because a sudden, terrifying, thought has just come to mind: if she is here, her mind in Julia's body, then where is Julia?

The simplest assumption is also the worst case scenario. She is in Julia's body. So if Julia is in hers...

Serena had been too tired last night, to do much more than peel herself out of Nihil's armor and collapse. Everything is out in the open in her hideout: her tools for working on the prototype regenerator; the nanovores; her notes, her plans, her schemes-

And worst of all, Serena herself. Her body.

Every emotion she's capable of feeling vanishes all at once, replaced by only dread. If Julia really is in her body, she has no more secrets to keep, no layer of deniability to hide behind. That thought terrifies her more than any other.

Plans overwrite plans in Serena's head. Everything at this point is only conjecture, but if there is any chance at all that it's true then she cannot leave it be. There will be a fallout, and she needs to be prepared to do damage control. And oh, she’s had so much practice at damage control, no time to rest between one crisis and the next.

So, step one: get in contact with Julia. Find out how much of the truth she knows, though Serena can't imagine that Julia won't have pieced together the entirety of it. Julia is ignorant, perhaps willfully, but she isn't stupid. Even she will have to accept the truth when she's forced to stare the ugly truth in the face.

The question, then, is: how does she do that?

Julia's brick of a mobile phone is easy enough to find, left charging by the bedside table. Serena hefts the thing in her hands, considering. Julia seems so confident that her apartment is untapped, unbugged. Secure. But a phone like this, carefully insulated against any flareups, has to be built to specification. And she knows that Julia uses it for Ranger business.

There's a high possibility that this phone is monitored. And if she calls Julia, who must be equally – if not more – bewildered at their circumstances, there's too high a chance that one of them will let something slip. Say something they shouldn't. Holding her tongue has never been one of Julia's strengths.

Serena growls to herself. Calling or texting is out of the question, and it's by very deliberate design that she hasn't left Julia another way to contact her.

That leaves one option. And that means Serena needs to get dressed.

As she staggers her way to the doors of Julia's closet, it's second nature by now to avert her eyes from the full-body mirror mounted to the wall next to the closet door. Still, skin flashes in the corner of her vision: deep tan, interrupted by pale streaks of scars.

No orange.

No orange, and it takes actual effort to shake herself out of the realization that this really isn't her body. That this is a human body, rugged and real. For the briefest instant she almost fools herself into believing that this could be her.

Then reality catches up to her, in the form of light winking off of silver rivets along Julia's body. Serena has to turn away from the mirror, something that tastes half like guilt sticking to the back of her tongue. Enough gawking at Julia's body, wishing that it really was hers.

Serena throws on the first set of clothes she gets her hands on, not bothering to make sure they go well together. It's Julia's closet; any old blouse and pair of pants should look nice enough. Habit has her shrugging on a jacket as well, unnerved by her shirt's short sleeves. All of this still feels too light, too exposed, but she's Julia now. And Julia Ortega isn't afraid of anything.

Mercifully, there's no one else in the apartment that's up and about save the doorman. It's early enough in the morning that she greets who she thinks is Julia with a yawn and a simple wave, content to leave it at that. Serena returns the greeting with a smile, hating how easily her mind conjures up Julia's guileless grins, how at home they feel on her face.

Public transportation is an unfortunate necessity that Serena doesn't like dealing with, even on her best days. This is... definitely not one of those. No matter if she's in Julia's body or not. Luckily, Julia's car keys sit heavily in her pocket, and somewhere in the years she's been gone, Julia swapped out her ostentatious sports car for something a little more subdued.

It's still a nice car, Serena thinks, sleek and shiny, because Julia doesn't settle for "serviceable" when she can have "great" – but what does that say about her? The way Julia sees her?

Serena's hands tighten around the steering wheel, her own upset electricity biting into her palms. With a grimace, Serena pushes that thought away. It's just one more to add to the avalanche of things she can't acknowledge if she's to preserve this tentative happiness between her and Julia.

Though once the dust of the current disaster settles, says a spiteful part of her that she just can't ever seem to silence, there may not be much of anything left to preserve.

A car like Julia's stands out in the suburbs. There's nothing to be done about that. All that Serena can do is drive out as far as she dares, and hope that there's nobody willing to brave the city's precarious, landslide-prone fringes this morning. Luck seems to be on her side today: the few people around seem to all have business elsewhere, and no one strays anywhere off-road. Still, she misses her telepathy deeply, unable to satisfy her paranoia by scanning the area for any too-curious minds.

The long drive over has wrung her out. The grating ache in her spine had proved impossible to ignore. She knows she makes jokes about Julia's age, but she hadn't expected this exhaustion. She refuses to let the emotion curling like wispy smoke through her gut be guilt.

So, deciding firmly to not be guilty, Serena climbs down into the labyrinthine tunnels that sprawl out beneath the outskirts of Los Diablos. She has business here.

Everything looks as she remembers, though there's precious little to be disturbed. On the one hand, it's a good sign that nobody has traced her back to this entrance. But on the other, it means nothing; there are dozens of pathways all leading to her hideout, her sanctuary. Julia could have left through any one of them and she would be none the wiser.

Serena picks up the pace. Her footsteps echo through narrow corridors. While she likes to wander, normally, she cuts through the passageways as fast as she can now. The twists and corners are as familiar as breathing, but Serena doesn't make for the main entrance. The path she ends up on is slightly more circuitous than she would prefer, but she can't rely on the main doors being accessible. A side entrance, just one of many potential escape paths, is what she needs.

At last she reaches her destination: a broken down chamber attached to the water plant. It may have been a garage at some point, perhaps, but what matters is that the walls have decayed enough that there's space for her to slip into the main building, even accounting for Julia's excess of height.

The lights are off, though grimy sunlight streams in through the high open windows of the power plant. It's no worse than the tunnels, and just enough to barely see by, though everything within is cast in dim shadow. Serena hesitates when she fully squeezes through the gap.

With the benefit of, quite literally, a new perspective, her lair reminds her of Heartbreak. Musty, broken things scattered about everywhere, and a bitter foreboding that hangs in the heavy air, perceptible even without telepathy. Is this what she's been surrounding herself with?

No. Stop. Focus. So many thoughts she needs to pack away, to ignore for now – or, preferably, forever.

So Serena takes a breath, and calls out into the solemn quiet, "Julia?"

No answer. But her ears catch on a breath of a sound, the barest hint of soft cloth shuffling against cloth. Then breath after ragged breath. She immediately snaps her head in the direction of the noise, scanning the gloom for its source.

There, by her workstation: the silhouette of a lump of a person rather than an actual person, curled in a fetal position, arms wrapped around the head. Serena begins approaching gingerly.

"Julia, can you hear me?" she tries again. It must be disconcerting to hear your own voice speaking to you, and Julia has even less frame of reference for this sort of thing than Serena herself does. She doesn't know how much of Julia's instincts or her own remain, coiled tight and waiting like the tension in a spring, so she moves slowly, so as not to jostle the hornet's nest. Caution is her ally here.

It's not until she's right up next to her own- Julia's- her body that she recognizes what's happening. She has to forgive herself a little, for taking so long; she's never seen this from the outside before. The Farm had always taken care to separate the telepaths from each other when one of them was showing weakness. Breaking down.

For once, Serena's thankful for the blank silence in Julia's head. The same void that she had cursed many times over the years now wraps her in a blanket of immunity. Otherwise...

Serena's never really stopped to take stock of just how much her powers have grown, especially in the wake of Heartbreak. A telepath's instinct tells her that if she weren't in Julia's body right now, her mind would be pulped like an orange just from proximity. No wonder everyone had been avoiding her hideout; self-preservation works even when you don't know what it is you're running from.

But Serena knows what she's facing. And she knows she's not fleeing.

Seeing herself laid low like this leaves an unpleasant taste in her mouth. It's not any easier than when she had to have Eden stitch her up after a fight gone wrong. Somehow, it feels worse, actually.

Is it because it's Julia shivering on the ground, and not you?

Serena's gotten adept at ignoring her own thoughts. She can't afford to have Julia collapse in on herself, in Serena's body, under the sudden deluge of new powers beyond her ability to control. The ship has long since sailed on pretending that she only wants Julia to calm down to avoid any irreparable damage to her own body.

So she kneels down by Julia's hunched form, pushing past the way her spine protests the motion. Gingerly, tentatively, she rests a hand on Julia's shoulder. Only a thin nanomesh suit separates skin from skin. She holds steady through the full-body shudder that shakes through Julia's entire body.

"Listen to my voice," Serena begins, keeping her tone soft. She doesn't think that conscious thought is close enough to the surface for Julia to be able to understand her words. But from past experience, she knows that her overloaded brain will latch onto the comforting thought-void static, the warm murmur of soft nonsense.

"It will feel like an ocean, at first. Like you're drowning in it..."

Step by step, she talks Julia back from the brink. In the absence of telepathy, she can only rely on how Julia trembles beneath her palm. The shaking that was almost violent dies down as she speaks, slows. Julia's ragged breaths evens out.

And at last, she stops shaking. Serena lets her words trail off, though she keeps her hand where it is. Solid, tangible, real.

Julia cracks an eye open. Then the other. Something akin to vertigo sweeps through Serena when she stares into her own green eyes. There's a consciousness behind them that's not her own, and a part of her wants to recoil at the primal, visceral revulsion that the thought conjures.

She watches Julia lick her lips. Her voice comes out as half a whisper, hollowed out. "...Serena?"

Swallowing against the tension, Serena nods. "It's me, Julia."

Julia stares at her blankly in the face for a moment. Then she looks down to her arms, the way the sleeve of skinsuit is pulled up just enough to-

Serena grits her teeth, eyes flickering away when she catches a glimpse of orange streaks. Her eyes come to rest on her armor, lying dismantled by the workstation. Nihil's distinctive helmet lies on a bench, blueprints and maps and all other manner of clues scattered on the tables like fallen leaves.

Her stomach clenches. And then so does her heart, when she sees Julia follow her gaze, and how the puzzle pieces itself together in Julia's head.

Damage control, Serena reminds herself. She's good at that, if nothing else.

But nothing prepares her for the sheer depth of fury in Julia's eyes, nor the despair in her voice, when Julia asks, "Serena, what the hell is this?"

[chaniters]

Revealed

Thanks @kissingagrumpygiant for lending me Ana Basri! Your art’s so fking EPIC! 

(It was sooooo hard to find a title for this, all I could think of was Detective Pikachu!!!!)

_______________________________________

You knock on the door and stand back checking your cellphone as you wait. There are no new messages as usual. That's good.

He's the only one who has this number.

The message seemed quite urgent... "Please come by to my place tonight, we need to talk"

You're not sure what this is about, but you're not liking it one bit. Typically it's him pestering you for a little while until you crack and agree to meet.

But this message... he used "please". No flirting, no funny emojis, no bribe or boast.

That's not how he does things, he enjoys the power-play far too much. Something's not right...

The door open, and there he is, with a smile that seems a bit too forced dressed just a bit too casual... He's not trying to impress you.

"Ana... please, come in" He motions you to the living room, before disappearing and bringing drinks

"What's the matter?" You ask as soon as he gets back. This is starting to get on your nerves.

"I'm not sure how to say this but..."

"But what?" you ask impatiently.

"I know, Ana"

"You know What?"

"I mean... I KNOW" he says looking straight into your eyes.

It takes a few seconds for the whole sentence to down into your system.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say with a fake clueless smile. This isn't happening. It's just a setup... he can't possibly know...

"Ana I just want to help you..."

"I don't need your help Ricardo... and I still don't know what you mean" you cross your arms and look deep into him. Let him show his cards before you draw yours.

"You're not going to admit it to the very end, right?" he asked looking hurt

"There's nothing to admit. And I don't like this game... if this is why you called me..." You stand up and take your coat to leave.

"I followed Eden," he says.

"Should I know that person?" Your answer is almost automatical. Like you were trained to. Keep the flow. He will never catch you stuttering...

"That's how I met you at that bar... I was waiting for him to appear and instead, you did... back from the dead"

That gives you pause. He was spying on Eden before he found out you were alive?

"I know whom he works for... I followed him many times. I know he lives under your own apartment, Ana... "

This can't be happening...

"You're spying on a neighbor?"

He sighs exasperated.

"Drop the act... I know you are Puppet Master"

The words are like a hammer shattering the world you've built around yourself to feel safe.

He walks closer to you. "I can help you... I can..."

He extends a hand...

"NO!" you scream, pushing him back with all your strength. "Stay away from me!"

He stumbles as you take several steps back, trying to remember which way was the door... If only this was his old house!

"I can't help you if you won't let me!"

"I don't need your help!" You say heading for the corridor. THere's the door...

He takes your arm. "I'm sorry... But I can't let you go. Not like this!"

Panic.

Your free hand goes into a fist and connects with his face before you even know what you're doing.

Knuckles connect directly with his nose, but he doesn't let go. You try to hit him again and again, but he manages to get a hold of your wrist.

You scream in frustration showing him your teeth and trying to shake him off, but he pins you down against a wall instead, your arms held above your head.

His nose is bleeding, but he won't let go.

"STOP THAT!" he yells at you.

Of course, you don't do that. You try to struggle as hard as possible. Kick him... but he only draws closer, using his whole body to keep you pinned down.

"Stop it" he speaks a second time a bit more calmly. "Can't we at least try to talk about this?"

Your struggle becomes weaker as it becomes obvious he's not going to move. Without your armor, his mods have easily decided this fight. You're trapped.

"THere's nothing to talk about," you say looking away from him.

"Nothing to... ANA! I'm Telling you, I want to FUCKING HELP YOU!"

"Oh yeah? And how in the hell are you going to do that?" you yell back.

"I... I know they're using you! I know it's all part of their plan... If you help us, we can finish this... and you'll be free. She won’t control you anymore!"

Now, this is turning bizarre.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I know Hollow Ground's forcing you to do this! Making you turn against us...  I just don't understand how..."

You give him a blank stare... he thinks Hollow Ground is...

You can't help it... you burst into laughter... which only makes him more agitated.

"Why are you laughing? Let me fucking help you! I can't let her keep using you! I want to get back my friend..."

"Hahaha.. ha... oh wow.. this... this is rich..."

"Stop mocking me already!"

"I'm not mocking you... it's just... Hollow Ground has nothing to do with it"

"I know she does! Eden always works making contacts at places she owns... that's where he met that scientist... and he lives under you. I know he's there to keep an eye on you and make sure you follow her orders... THat's why I've been spying on him.. befriending him. I’m going to get you free of Hollow Ground!"

So that's why he ended up training with Eden all this time?... You can't help the laughter again... really...

It’s impressive. If he followed him for that long without you knowing, then that means Detective Charge actually gathered a huge pile of evidence, lied to you about it all along not to tip you on his findings... 

...and then drew entirely wrong conclusions out of it all. 

"You're not going to admit it, then?"

"You only got one part of this whole fantasy right amigo...  I AM the Puppet Master. But I am NOT Hollow Ground's bitch. I'm my own person."

“What…?”

“The question is… what are you going to do about it…?” you ask, your voice subtly changing back into puppet master’s tone. Even without the distorter, he knows you well enough to realize it. “Still going to help me?” you ask with a cruel smile. It’s not fair for him… but since when has anything been fair to you?

“Are you trying to protect her? Just tell me what she’s got over you! Is she holding someone hostage? What did she do to you?! Just tell me, please!” there’s desperation in his eyes. He thinks he’s so close to his answers. And he is, just not the answers he expects.

“Always ready to blame Hollow Ground for everything since she killed your second dad, aren't you?” Fuck. Too hurtful… .You wish you hadn’t said that the moment it comes off your mouth.

He gives you an angry stare, before going on “Look, I already know she’s behind this so…”

“SHE’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!” you blurt out.

“THEN WHO’S EDEN?! WHAT’S HIS ROLE?”

You could lie… tell him a thousand different things… You’ve been trained for it. Maybe he would even believe some of them

But you can see the end of the road from here. You’re not running from it this time.

“He’s just another puppet, Ricardo. That’s how I see everyone these days”

“A pu… ? Como quieres que te crea eso?” he turns to spanish. Perhaps he thinks you can’t lie in spanish?

“Me vas a soltar en algún momento? Or is this just turning you on?” You smile looking at his hands holding your wrists against the wall, his chest pushing against your own… you’re so close...

“If I do that you’re going to run away! It’s what you always do…”

“I won’t… You have my word, for what it’s worth” you say with a smug smile.

He looks down for a brief moment before releasing your wrists and pulling back “Fuck…ok.. but don’t you DARE run!”

“Told you I wouldn’t”

“Alright if it wasn’t Hollow Ground... then who captured you?! You never spoke about your past!”

“You really have no idea…”

“And why didn't you look for me after you escaped?"

"Oh, so it's my fault for not running into your arms? I don't think so. It was you who abandoned me, remember? You let me there to rot!!!"

“Where? Who took you? Make some fucking sense already!”

“The people you work for… they’re the ones who took me, hero”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You should know better than anyone… Your own father gave you up to them, and they’ve been pulling your strings ever since”

“Leave my family out of this!” He bursts in anger

“THe government owns you Ricardo. Just like they own me. The only difference is I escaped”

“I told you to make sense already? Or do I have to keep guessing? Is it all a game to you?”

“No. No more games…”

He’s just so angry… so confused… you’ve never seen him like this.

“Ana, I…” he looks right into your eyes “I fucking love you! I’d do anything for you! Just tell me what’s wrong! I don’t know what else to do...”

“You ... “ your voice breaks for a brief second... “ You can’t love me. You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“But I do!”

“No… you can’t. And I’ll show you why”. No. No, don’t do this. No no no no…

You start to take off your shirt and the nanomesh underneath… This is madness. Why won’t you stop?

“What are you doing?”

It finally comes off… exposing your skin. Letting him see the ugly truth. The orange lines tracing your skin everywhere. The scars inflicted by your torturers

“What are those?”

“You asked me to tell you what’s wrong. Well… what if I told you just about everything is?”

“You mean you’re...?” He’s having trouble finishing his sentences right now...

You nod. The tears are coming already. You cross your arms protectively over your chest, but that only exposes a new set of tattoos going all over them.

“So you see? You can’t love me. I’m not real Ricardo. I never was”

“You’re one of those…” He stops short of saying it. But you know what he meant. He thinks you’re one of those things.

He goes silent.

He just keeps staring… saying nothing.

You can’t read his mind… You can’t hear his words. Only see his eyes, judging you. You always knew what he thought of regenes.

This was all a mistake… a huge mistake. Now that he knows… What is he going to do? He can’t accept this. You fooled him all along. You pretended to be human and he fell in love with you. And now you’ve ripped all that apart.

He gives a step towards you… he’s about to say something…

NO! You won’t let him judge you. Nor him, nor anyone else. And you’re not going back to the farm ever again…

He extends a hand to your arm and…

THere’s your chance. You send a sudden headbutt into his bloody nose like your training tells you to. He’s caught completely off guard, making him pull back.

You push your way through and rush to the couch, getting your coat again, pulling if over your shirtless self, and you run.

Run to the door…

“Stop!” you hear him cry out, holding his nose. “Please don’t leave me. You gave me your word, remember?

Your fingers go white as they grip the handle with all your strength, turning it… 

...until you let go.

 Running won’t help. It’s all in the open now.

Time to face consequences...

_________________________________________

You lay down on the couch. He sits rights besides you.

Both of you stay there the longest time. Your mind is racing a thousand thoughts per second. You just wish he said something. Anything... the silence is deafening.

“Alright... Alright then” he says in the end. “Where do we go from here?” he asks.

“I don’t know? And you said WE or am I hearing things?”

“Of course I said we” he looks at you. He looks hurt and shocked, and afraid… but there’s no doubt in him. “I mean WE need to find a way to solve this”

“What if it can’t be solved?”

“Then I guess we’re going to have to make a mess out of it?” he smiles weakly.

“I guessed I already started? I messed you up... twice now...” You say apologetically

“Oh this?” he motions at his bloodened face “This is just a regular workday for me, you know it!”

“Let me help you clean those”

“If you feel like it”

You head to the bathroom and then come back carrying a wet towel and some antiseptic. He buys the best brand... just like you.

“I’m sorry,” you say cleaning the blood. 

“Ouch” he lets out flinching as you gently clean the stains over his face.

“Just stay still…”

He takes a hand to your cheek… his fingers clearing some of your tears.

“It’s ok” he speaks softly.

“I keep doing this….” you smile bitterly.

“Doing what?”

“Hurting you.”

“Yes, we really  need to work on that cariño…”

He leans in…

“I haven’t finishe….”

It’s a clumsy kiss. His face’s still in pain…

But he’s kissing you.

He knows.

He knows what you are and he’s still kissing you.

Only one way to go now…

You kiss him back.

“Ooouch!” he lets out as you press your lips against his perhaps a bit too forcefully.

“SORRY!”

_____________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[aced0g]

So I made another Sidestep because I have no self control and I fell for Herald oof

This is Kenji Basri, a goth who convinced himself he has a heart of steel and won’t let anyone close. That was a lie as as soon as he was back around the Rangers he found himself befriending Ortega and the rest (and unknowingly falling for Herald). Kenji has a big sweet tooth and needs his coffee to be mostly creamer and sugar.

He keeps an edgy persona to keep people away from him, though that doesn’t seem to work around Ortega or Herald. He really is a big softie though. His scar from heartbreak is that he no longer feels human, and his vice is sweets. He doesn’t want to kill anyone. Just because he’s a villain doesn’t mean people have to die.

His villain persona is Entropy, he went for an imposing look for his suit. His suit is made for telepathic boosters and speed.