#Templar order AU

[ares-49789]

Cap 25.5

-Cuénteme, señor García, ¿desde cuándo has sido consciente de la situación que vivían sus sobrinos?-Preguntó la jueza, la mujer no quitaba su mirada del hombre que estaba de pie a su izquierda, escuchaba también el sonido de las teclas del portátil sonar mientras la taquígrafa escribía todo lo que pasaba en la sala, el hombre suspiró, no pasaba nada, había pasado horas practicando mentalmente sus respuestas a cualquier pregunta que le pusiera hacer la jueza

-Hace dos semanas más o menos que sé del verdadero nivel del abuso hacia mis sobrinos - dijo el hombre - pero siempre los dejaba quedarse conmigo si necesitaban un tiempo fuera- explicó David con las manos a su espalda, con sus dedos intentaba calmar sus nervios, clavando sus uñas en las palmas de sus manos

-¿No lo sospechaba ni nada similar?- preguntó la mujer, apoyando su barbilla sobre sus manos, David devolvió la mirada a la mujer, una sombra oscureció su expresión al pensar en la respuesta

-Yo... Sabía que Pedro era duro- dijo el hombre - Después de todo había perdido a su esposa - David apoyó sus manos en la pequeña valla que había al frente de su podio - Lukas y José nunca hablaban de la situación en casa, preferían simplemente sentarse a ver cómo trabajaba cuando venían a verme al taller- explicó el hombre - Ellos son buenos chicos- dijo David - siempre se han cuidado el uno al otro cuando lo necesitaban, son fuertes- David sonrió a José y Lukas, que lo miraban desde su mesa

- Por favor, limítese a responder mis preguntas - pidió la jueza, viendo el intercambio de miradas entre el hombre y los demandantes, parecía que de verdad se importaban, eso era bueno, podía reducir las probabilidades de una manipulación

-Si señora - Dijo David, suspirando, la jueza se inclinó hacia atrás en su silla, pensando por unos segundos antes de mirar al demandado, el hombre parecía tranquilo después de haber contado su historia, cómodo incluido, aunque su abogado seguía pareciendo un ciervo iluminado por las luces de una camioneta en mitad de la noche

-El demandado tiene derecho a hacer unas preguntas al testigo- dijo la mujer- ¿Lo hará? - Pedro miró a su abogado y le dió un toque en el brazo, este se levantó dejando caer al suelo un par de papeles que rápidamente se agachó para recoger, la jueza suspiró cuando su atención pasó del joven abogado a la puerta que se abría tímidamente al otro lado de la sala de juicio, dejando que entrara un joven

-El lado del demandante hará preguntas al testigo- anunció el abogado, después de poner todos sus papeles en orden sobre su mesa antes de ponerse en el centro de la sala - Mi nombre es Marcos González y estoy aquí para representar a mi cliente Pedro Rubio- La jueza asintió y el abogado se acercó al testigo, aunque fue detenido por el mismo guardia que había llevado a David al estrado

Clara suspiró cuando Tobías se sentó a su lado, había desaparecido quince minutos antes y encima ahora aparecía despeinado y lleno de polvo

-¿Qué te ha pasado?- preguntó la chica, Tobías le dió una sonrisa cansada a su amiga, como si le quitara importancia a lo que le había hecho desaparecer tanto a él como a su prima... -¿Dónde está Helena?- Clara no la veía por ningún lado y se había ido junto al chico, seguro que le había pasado algo

-Han surgido cosas importantes - contestó Tobías, haciendo que la sangre hirviera dentro de las venas de la chica de pelo rizado y rubio

-No hay nada más importante que esto- dijo Clara

-Ella dijo lo mismo - Tobías recordó, poniendo sus manos sobre sus rodillas

-¿Entonces qué está haciendo?- preguntó la chica

-Algo importante- Tobías evitó la mirada inquisitiva de Clara, mirando a la espalda de José, que a su vez veía como su tío respondía a las preguntas del abogado de Pedro, José susurró algo a la abogada y luego a su hermano

-¿El qué?- preguntó ella, a punto de agarrar a su amigo por el cuello de la camisa

-No puedo decirlo- Tobías sabía perfectamente que no podía contarle a Clara la realidad, no porque ella fuera a ir largando información importante a cualquiera que se cruzara con ella por la calle, sino porque Helena había decidido que era mejor para su prima vivir en la ignorancia, en parte para no cambiar la forma en la que la chica miraba a la pareja

-¿Porqué?- preguntó la chica, intentando con todas sus fuerzas no golpear a Tobías hasta que le diera la información que pedía como un buen agente de la CIA lo haría

-Ella me dijo que no te contara - contestó Tobías, haciendo que Clara sintiera un jarrón de agua fría en toda su cara, como si algo la golpeara de pronto en el pecho, fue entonces que terminó su interrogatorio, si Helena no quería que lo supiera entonces era algo que de verdad no podía conocer, si, seguro que era para mejor

-Chicos, ¿cómo váis?- la voz de José sacó a Clara de su tren de pensamientos, el chico había salido de la sala principal y había caminado hasta ellos

-¿Qué haces aquí?- preguntó Diego, que lo había visto acercarse desde que se había levantado de la mesa de los demandantes, él y Diana estaban prestando mucha más atención al juicio que el resto de sus amigos

-Eres el próximo en salir - dijo José a Diego, el chico asintió, y José miró la fila de sus amigos, notando al instante que había una baja

-¿Y Helena?- preguntó el chico, haciendo que todos además de Clara fueran conscientes de la falta de la chica, Tobías suspiró

-Algo importante surgió - dijo el chico, José iba a preguntar por el origen de este asunto importante, pero Tobías se remangó un poco y le señaló su muñequera, José nunca había sido el más inteligente, de hecho de los dos hermanos era considerado el más tonto, y con razón, había cosas que desaparecían de su mente hasta que algo lo obligaba a recordar a la fuerza, así fue como recordó que su amigo era un superhéroe, y ese superhéroe tenía una compañera... Tonto tenía que ser para no sumar dos más dos

-Es el cuarto día - dijo el chico a media voz, Tobías asintió -Oye Tobías - dijo José- ¿Podemos hablar fuera?- preguntó el chico, Tobías se levantó y en silencio siguió a su amigo fuera, ni siquiera le importó que Clara los estaba siguiendo con la mirada

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Introducción | Arcos

[thebleedingeffect]

Wish I knew how to draw cause I have this whole idea for a idea for an assassin's creed self insert-oc cause I like having fun and it's an super self indulgent idea- BUT I have NO FUCKING IDEA HOW TO DRAW

[felassan]

Article/interview from Well Played: 'We chat with Mark Meer about finding a character’s voice, the everlasting love for Mass Effect and the allure of tabletop RPGs'

The interview is also available in video format: [link]

Excerpts:

"Mark: "Early in the process, we sort of came up with what is the core of Shepard, whether Renegade or Paragon, and that is a military officer who’s used to giving orders under pressure and maybe not necessarily showing that much emotion in the given scene, so that does help justify the path that we’re taking in terms of not having [discordant differences between Paragon and Renegade in any given conversation if a player was switching between these dialogue options mid-conversation]". -- Mark: "Then there’s is the final line of the Citadel DLC, which is, “Hell of a ride, Shepard”, and Shepard just responds, “The best,” and that was literally the final line that I recorded in everything that I ever did Mass Effect." -- Mark: "There was some stuff that I’d suggested that didn’t end up being followed because of other practical concerns. The Turians, specifically because of the structure of their mouths, I pitched that they should have a little clicking sound when they talk or at the end of sentences. This was before Garrus was going to be a main character in the game, so it was decided that it would get old very quickly because we have a Turian, so they ended up just going with a filter for a Turian." -- Mark: "We would usually do any Vorcha stuff at the end of the week, just to give your voice a whole weekend to recover because there was no particular technique, I was just screeching as loud as I could with a mouth half full of water." -- Interviewer: "You’re a frequent collaborator with BioWare, and they do have a game coming up in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, so can we expect to maybe hear your voice in the mix there?" Mark: "I am not in that game, but I look very much forward to playing it. I have been in a lot of the other Dragon Age games. Such significant roles as Lyrium Merchant and Red Templar." -- Mark Meer will be a special guest at PAX Aus 2024, running from October 11-13 at the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre."

[source]

[teecupangel]

So I had the thought of Desmond becoming a MLP: fim changeling queen. Why a changeling? You may ask, because they are very cool.

If you don't know changelings are these horse-like bugs that can shape shift into pretty much anything even inanimate objects (or many that one is an illusion). They use this ability to collect love from other creatures since that's their main source of energy, seems like they need to eat normal stuff but in smaller quantities.

But for the sake of this Au let's say they can feed on the other emotions as well but the closer to love the emotion (example: happiness) the more energy they get. With love giving out the most energy.

So Desmond wakes up at Solomon's temple and sees he is some kind horse-bug and cause he is a queen changeling he is really big. Like draft horse big, even bigger than the Clydesdale. But still thin and spindly cause you know, bug. He wouldn't be like Chrysalis starved hive but also he wouldn't be rainbow colored like Thorax's. I see Desmond being desert colored for camouflage (dark red, brown, pale, black, sand) while having some white and red mixed in for the colours of the brotherhood.

Desmond curses his luck and wanders around trying to get used to his new body until Altaïr and company come for the apple. He discovers that he is completely armored and his carapace is really resistant and though, he is really strong capable of shatter stone with a kick, he is very flexible and can climb on surfaces like Spiderman, he can lift things with telekinesis through his horn (solves the issue of no hands), has this big bug mandibles that can come from his snout, his fleshy tail is very flexible and has a pair of stingers with a paralyzing venom, he has wings under his carapace like a beetle open it and fly, and he is pretty much an omnivore but absolutely loves flower nectar, honey, bee wax, and other insects.

One night while sneaking in a city he complains about not being at least a normal horse to not catch so much attention and then fiuussh he transforms into one of the smaller horses he saw in the stables he passed, smaller size and everything. He practices his new shape shifting ability and even figures out how to change color and become invisible. For now he can only shape shift into other quadrupeds, horses, dogs and even something as small as a cat. And that's how he discovers his new emotion based diet. Now that he can spend more time in the cities he doesn't feel as hungry and when some kids tried to pet him and play with him while disguised as a dog he felt an energy boost from feeding off the affection they were giving him.

So to kick off plot once the general date of the expedition to the temple comes Desmond comes back to the temple and waits. He turns invisible and when the fight for the apple comes he drops the invisibility and everyone sees his him in his big insect glory, they think Desmond is some Demon/guardian of the apple.

He manages to run off the templars, save Malik and Kadar and with his telekinesis gives Altaïr the apple.

From here I must clarify that Desmond can speak human languages perfectly he just chooses not to at the moment. And mainly uses this bug language of clicking, chittering, buzzing, crooning and hissing.

From here Desmond either goes back to being invisible and sneaks to Masyaf or just follows outright along with them outside the cave and transforms into a normal horse in front of them to travel back to Masyaf. With the second it allows for more interactions, Al Muslim gets to see Desmond at the beginning and they think the guardian of the apple is following them around and chose their faction as worthy of the treasure.

Al Muslim tries to order him around but Desmond just gives him the stink eye and follows Altaïr around. Using his shape shifting ability to help sneak around and get information, eventually learning how to transform into non-quadrupeds, humans and even inanimate objects. Every once in a while Desmond speaks like a human in public but everyone thinks he is just a very clever parrot except Altaïr who spends the more time with Desmond whose Desmond speaks more and more to everyday.

After Al Mualim is defeated Desmond makes Masyaf the place to put his hive without knowing, at this point everyone knows Desmond can speak and it's fully sapient.

When things calm down Desmond gets the surprise of his life when he lays his first clutch of eggs, he is not a Changeling Queen for nothing. And when the eggs hatch among the grubs is Clay (once Altaïr dies he will be reborn like this too).

The other changelings (changeling workers/soldiers) are also sapient and can do everything Desmond can but Clay becomes a sub-queen of sorts. Clay is a changeling whose function is to be the main Queen (Desmond) right hand, therefore Sub-Queen (princess). While the workers are regular horse sized Clay as Sub-Queen is somewhere in the middle is bigger than the workers but smaller than Desmond. Also Clay doesn't lay eggs (to Desmond's complains).

So now the brotherhood is composed of humans and changelings, who can infiltrate pretty much everywhere, their venom is widely used by the assassins and they make the templars incredibly paranoid of everything even their own pot plants.

If anyone in the brotherhood dares to even look at any of Desmond's hundred children wrong both Altaïr and Desmond will make their lives miserable.

(Now I see Altaïr with a handful of grubs who crawl all over him)

Masyaf becomes the main changeling hive and Clay goes on to make a second one in the nearest assassin headquarters (then he begins to lay eggs).

When Altaïr dies he is reborn as a grub that becomes another Sub-Queen. A lot of brotherhoods around now have a changeling hive with a Sub-Queen and all respond to Desmond (the main Queen).

Changelings feed on surrounding emotions and when they go infiltrate but they mostly feed on the affection of each other's and their fellow brotherhood members.

So when it's Ezio's turn he is just surrounded

By this three giant bug-horses and their million children/niblings.

There was a man who visits their home often. He would always be accompanied by a strange bunch. People in hoods and animals of various sizes…

All of them would call him ‘mother’.

Ezio swears the people with hoods and the animals would change at times, even when they had already entered their home.

It was strange.

Sometimes they would visit with one brown dog but leave with no dogs at all but the number of people would rise.

Other times, he would visit with butterflies on his hair and leave with no butterflies at all but cats walking behind him.

He never stays long, talking to Ezio’s father the longest then taking the time to talk to everyone else for a bit.

Ezio liked it when he visited.

He always gave them new toys they had never seen before. Sometimes, he would bring books that sounded interesting and would be read and borrowed between the siblings.

As Ezio grew older, the more he understood who the man he only knew as ‘Desmond’ was.

He was royalty.

The mother queen.

Ezio still didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and why he was called 'mother queen' instead of 'father king'. All he knew was that Desmond was the ruling matriarch of a kingdom they do not know about.

And House Auditore was part of that kingdom.

Ezio always thought they were nobles of Firenze.

But no.

They were spies.

He still remembered the conversation he had unintentionally eavesdropped on while Desmond was visiting them.

“I’ve warned you about being too close to Lorenzo de’ Medici, Giovanni.”

“I am loyal to the Brotherhood.”

“I do not doubt your loyalty. Just as I know that Clay is loyal to me, I also know Clay will do what he believes is right. The same can be said to you.”

“I am honored to be compared to the princess-”

“Clay would tell you that it’s meant to be an insult. But it’s not. I’m just telling you this to make you understand that just because you are loyal to the Brotherhood, it does not mean you are not compromised.”

“I can assure you-”

“If I order you to return to Monteriggioni with your family and to not return to Monteriggioni even if Lorenzo de’ Medici begged you to, would you do it?”

“Ezio Auditore.”

Ezio stepped back from the door and turned to face the unfamiliar voice who called out to him.

He looked a lot like Desmond but with golden eyes.

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.” The golden-eyed man said, “You will hear what Desmond has ordered your father to do later anyway. Walk with me.”

“Uuuhh…” Ezio didn’t really have any reason to say no so he began to follow the strange man.

As they exited the hallway and made their way to the main room, a cat meowed and nuzzled the man’s legs before following after him, glancing at Ezio curiously only once.

By the time they reached the inner courtyard, five cats were following the man.

“Uuhhh…”

“Altaïr.”

It took a moment before Ezio realized that the man had introduced himself. He was unsure if he could just call ‘Altaïr’ or if he was a noble of higher standing than them so he just asked, “These cats…”

“My children.” Altaïr answered.

Oh.

He was one of those people.

“Sef.” Altaïr called out and a white cat with black fur on his legs and paws meowed as he sat in front of Altaïr, “Stay with Desmond and tell him that I’ll be training Ezio Auditore until he’s done with Giovanni Auditore.”

Ezio opened his mouth to speak but the cat’s meow was loud enough to stop him. Ezio watched the cat quietly make his way back inside before he turned to face Altaïr as he asked, “Training?”

A hooded man that Ezio swore was not there before handed Altaïr two blunt swords used for training and Altaïr threw the other sword to Ezio who caught it easily.

“Uh- merda!” Ezio shouted as Altaïr suddenly charged him, easily disarming him with enough force to stagger him off his feet.

“Get up faster. You’d be dead if I had followed up on my first attack. Again.” Altaïr ordered as he took a few steps back.

Ezio growled and stood. As soon as he grabbed the sword, Altaïr charged once more. Ezio managed to keep hold of his sword but fell on his ass when Altaïr smacked his cheek with the back of his hand.

“You’re too focused on my sword. If I had a hidden weapon on my left hand, you’d be dead. Again.”

Ezio growled once more.

This bastardo was asking for it.

.

.

Training only ended when a hooded man who looked too much like Desmond and Altaïr that Ezio had to take a doubletake, giving Altaïr an opening to hit him on the side with the pommel of his sword, announced that lunch was ready and Desmond would like Altaïr to eat with him and the rest of the Auditore.

As Ezio wheezed as he held his poor bruised side, Altaïr handed the sword to the hooded man who could have been mistaken as Altaïr and Desmond’s son as he said, “Very well. Check the perimeter before scheduling everyone’s meal time, Sef.”

“Darim is already on it, father.”

Wait.

Sef?

Did Altaïr named a cat after his son???

[sleepyfan-blog]

Runneth Over

This is the next part in Cedric’s adventures in the Astartes Husbandry AU, and specifically the Introducing New Primaris Black Templars arc. For other adventures click here and here. First. Previous. Next.  

Tagged:  @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @undeaddream @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: Misconceptions, physical violence, poor coping mechanisms

Summary: Cedric and Melinth have a conversation. 

“... I had plans for the day, Chief Apothecary Melinth. Is there a particular reason why you called me into your office today?” Cedric asked, doing his best to project a mask of calm, even as resentment and frustration boiled inside of his hearts, threatening to cause problems if he let them. He would not lose his temper again. 

“I have several questions to ask of you, and they are important. Sit.” Melinth ordered, pointing at one of the chairs.

The younger apothecary obeyed wordlessly, suppressing the desire to grind his teeth in frustration, or cross his arms over his chest and scowl. “And these questions cannot wait until I have completed what I wanted to get done for the day?”

“Correct. As you may already be aware, I have been studying the gene-seed that was implanted in your two dead brothers. In part to see whether or not the Mechanicus somehow altered the structure of the organ itself, among other reasons.” The older Apothecary explained. “While the technology available to mortals and created by them in this time period are… Crude to say the least, we have been able to recreate certain much better technologies within a select number of bases, this being one of them.”

“... Is there a point to this, sir?” Cedric asked, trying to resist the temptation to roll his eyes as the other droned on. “As I told you earlier, the Mecnanicus did tell us Primaris Marines that we all have hybrid gene-seed. In order to try and reduce the likelihood of us developing or having certain gene-seed defects. We were told that our geneseed stock came from loyalist primarchs, as using traitor gene-seed, even stock from before they turned traitor, is heretical.”

“So you have said. DId you know that the Mechanicus are not the only ones who were working on trying to improve the astartes blueprint, and had access to different kinds of gene-seed stocks?” Melinth asks, as he seemed to be attempting to stare holes through Cedric’s body by the force of his eyeballs alone.

“I did not, though that doesn’t surprise me. Is there a particular reason why you are telling me this?” Cedric asked, realizing that he’d slipped a little in not addressing the other properly “... Sir?”

“Both… Malachai and Lestras, was it? Both of their gene-seed is sixty-percent  of the line of Dorn, which is what we were expecting. Do you know what the remaining 40% is? Any guesses or suspicions at all?” Melinth asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Given that about sixty percent of all loyalist chapters are sons of Guilliman in part or full in M42… I’d hazard that the answer to that is probably Primarch Guilliman?” Cedric answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“That’s not - wait, what?” Melinth asked, startled “How? That makes no sense. There were seven loyalist Primarchs who survived the heresy. That is a fact. So how did Primarch Guilliman’s Gene-seed spread so far?”

“His is the most stable, of all of the Primarchs, including the First. Lords Russ, Khan, and Corax all vanished into the warp, to return when the Imperium’s need was at it’s highest. Lords Vulcan was brutally killed and lost - though the Salamanders and their successor chapters hope to one day find him. Lord…” Cedric hesitates for a moment, trying to remember if he’d ever been told when, exactly Melinth was from. Did he hail from a time before…? If so, this was an unfortunate time to reveal to the Imperial Fist that his Lord Father was Probably Dead. “Lord Dorn has been lost to us for a long time as well. He vanished one day during a bloody battle, with only one of his powerfists - arm included - to be found. The lord of the first is rumored to have once again been seen walking in Imperium Nihilus, accompanied by his sons- both those who were always loyal to the Imperium and those who had forsaken their vows after Lord Johnson vanished, presumed killed by his treacherous second in command.”

There was a flash of… Something across Melinth’s face as the older Apothecary listened to his words. The other stood as Cedric finished speaking and stalked around his desk towards him. “I don’t know how much of anything you, or the other allegedly Loyalist Alternate Marines I can trust, if anything. Did you know that Fabius Bile of the Emperor’s Children has been creating clones and astartes for thousands of years? That mad butcher is amongst the most skilled geneticists alive in any time period that has him in it. The remaining 40% of your dead Brothers’ gene-seed are of traitor legions. Specifically a twenty-twenty split of World Eater and Word Bearer. Both of their genetics indicate that they were cloned, rather than made naturally and taken to become Astartes.”

Cedric was on his feet and part of him wanted to back away as the older Apothecary got in his face. Fury at being called a liar swelled in his chest and he hissed back “I have been truthful as far as I know to every question you and the other firstborn marines have asked me, as much as my vows as an Apothecary allow me to be! Speak plainly, rather than dancing around the point like a throne-damned Alpha Legionnaire!”

“Fine, then. I suspect that none of you were created by Loyalists. What I think is that the group of you were actually created by Fabius Bile in order to infiltrate loyalist chapters. Whether or not you know that and are purposefully working to weaken those chapters or gather intelligence… Or you are sleeper agents, planted in those chapters and unknowing of your true purpose and you genuinely believe the things you say… I cannot tell at this time.”

“And what gave you that idea?” Cedric asked, his voice dropping into a low growl, furiously insulted at the accusation “You’re completely wrong on all counts, but please. Enlighten me as to what your thought processes is, so I can help you know the truth.”

“You and your alleged Primaris Marine brothers are incredibly skittish of older marines. Loyalist, renegade, chaos, it does not matter. All of you are wary of us, despite none of us having ever done anything to hurt you. While I understand wariness towards traitors of varying stripes, if you were created by loyalists, you would not fear us, the way you do.” Melinth states, voice hard and accusatory. “However, if you were created by Bile, deep down you would have an instinctive wariness of all factions, given that Chaos uses Bile’s creations as cannon fodder for the most part. Renegades would either kill you or force you to work for them, and us Loyalists would likely mercy-kill you to put you out of your misery and to keep you from falling into the hands of our enemies.”

Mercy kill. Mercy kill. Mercy kill. That phrase rang over and over in Cedric’s head as the older Apothecary continued to rant and blather on at him. Fury and anxiety warred for dominance in his hearts, and when the other gestured particularly sharply at him, Cedric’s body automatically flinched and took a half-step back, to avoid being struck by the Angry Firstborn Marine. “I’m not one of Bile’s creations. None of us are. We were created by the Mechanicus, as for the reasons why we are wary of all firstborn marines… We have ample reason to be, from our experiences in M42.”

“... That. That kind of reaction right there. The way that your body is still tense but hunched, like you’re expecting me to strike you. Have I ever once shown that I would strike a fellow loyalist out of anger?” Melinth growled, stalking closer to Cedric, or rather he tried to.

Cedric’s body automatically backed up, towards the door to the office as his mind scrambled to find something, anything to say. His dumb-fuck mouth decided to blurt something out before his brain to mouth filter could alter it “Just because none of you in this time have hurt me, doesn’t mean that was true in M42! You wouldn’t be the first firstborn son of Dorn who beat me because you were angry! Not even the first Apothecary to do so.” His mentor had been furious when he’d found Apothecary Alinciet physically training him in such a way, and forbade the bastard from ever coming near him ever again. He still had some of the scars of that physical altercation on his arms, though.

“... Explain to me what you mean by that. Right now.” Melinth ordered Cedric, voice thundering loudly in his ears, echoing off of the walls of his office.

“... No.” Cedric breathed out, barely louder than the rapid beating of his hearts in his ears.

“What do you mean by no?” The older apothecary growled, stalking towards Cedric again “I have you a direct order, Astartes. You will answer my fucking question. Who. Hurt. You?”

“Why should I tell you? It’s not as if firsborn Marines are in danger, which is the only thing you fucking care about!” Cedric hissed back, his eyes going blurry as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. He really needed to figure out why he was crying so fucking much. “And don’t spew grox-shit about actually giving a fuck about me or my brothers! You just accused us of being some of Bile’s creations, seconds ago! All of whom you would happily kill to be rid of!”

“Hold on, that’s not what I-” Melinth started to lie.

Cedric did not want to hear empty platitudes or lying grox-shit anymore. Which was why he committed the sin of interrupting a superior officer by hissing “LIAR! I am not the liar of the two of us, it is you! You don’t give two shits if I or my brothers live or die! If you did, you would not have handed our primary care over to a fucking Hydra and a chaos-corrupted death guard! Do not stand there and pretend to be pure of heart and standing in good faith when you long ago washed your hands of those of us among the living. When your only interest in Primaris comes from what you can learn from carving up our dead.” 

Melinth was up in his face, hands moving to grab at him and Cedric’s body reacted on instinct to defend himself as the other was not dressed in the black and white of a Black Templar, nor the robes of an off-duty Older Brother. Which is why Cedric ducked his grab, rolling to one side and kicking the bastard in the back of his weaker knee with lightning speed and devastating force.

Melinth cursed as he started to fall, twisting his body and going into a combat roll, grabbing something from under his desk.

Cedric did not give the older and more experienced Astartes time to recover, launching himself at the bastard, slamming into the other’s chest shoulder first and sending the other bodily into the nearest wall. 

Books and knick-knacks flew off of the bookshelf that Melinth landed heavily next to. He grunted in pain and growled “Stand down marine!” 

“No! You do not get to call me a twisted abomination meant to break my chapter and then try and take it back! You’re just like THEM! Simply more subtle and all the more insidious for it!” Cedric hissed, hauling the smaller marine up by his shirt before lifting and throwing him through the air at the other wall.

There was a satisfyingly visceral crunch as the older marine hit the second wall. He wheezed and scrambled towards the panic-button in his room “What… Like who, do you accuse me of being?” His breathing was shallower, and there was a bit of blood on his lips, where they had split.

A wicked, cruel thought occurred to Cedric. A dark vicious part of him nearly shivered in delight at such a thought, before he balked at his own dark desires. He would not beat this miserable shithead into his deathbed, like certain Firstborn bastards had done to countless of his brothers. He had to be better than that, or he would never be able to look any of them in the eye ever again. And he would prove Petras and the other detractors right. “You’re a primaris Killer. You may not be from M42, but you let Malachai die on that surgical table. I know you did. You’re far too skilled an apothecary and were too well provisioned to have not been able to… To save him. You gave us away to Chaos and renegade Astartes. It is only their curiosity and desire to see us willingly come to their side, along with the treaty that stays their hands from murdering us.”

“Primaris… Killer?” Melinth wheezed as he pushed his way back up the wall with his hands, staggering towards the panic button.

Cedric thought about stopping the other from getting it, but a wave of bitterness and lethargy locked his limbs in place, despite the rage pulsing through his body that nearly robbed him of his senses “Primaris Killers are a shorthand way for us to refer to loyalist firstborn marines who have killed more than one Primaris Marine because they wanted to, or in a fit of murderous rage. Not because the Primaris Marine was showing signs of heresy, not because they needed to be culled for medical reasons either.”

“I did not. Let Malachai die. I tried to save him. He was. Very badly injured. Even if we had a spare Dreadnaught to put him in, that would not have saved him.” Melinth answered, the hand that reached out for the “please help me” button shaking a little. 

“So you claim.” Cedric spat out “I have precious little reason to trust any firstborn marines with myself, much less my brothers. Some of whom I’ve had to watch die twice from the same wounds that they were given by-” His voice cracks, breaks, falters. He cannot, will not, volunteer this information without checking with those who had been killed by The Fucker and getting their permission to do so. He will not expose such a weakness without them agreeing to such beforehand. “-by a Primaris killer. If you think we are Bile’s creations, ask that Night Lord Apothecary if we are or not. He should be able to tell you, if he’s who I think he is.”

With that, Cedric turned on his heel and left Melinth’s office, slamming the door behind him. He stormed down the hallway, intending to head to the bakery that Roland’s bonded ran and worked in. Maybe they’d let him knead some of the dough? It would help him work out the fury boiling in his system without causing more destruction.

Instead he nearly physically ran into a green and gold blur that turned into Captain Ash’val. “Ah, there you are Cedric! I was wondering if-” The Salamander began to ask, starting to reach out to Cedric as he spoke.

The young Apothecary, who would normally be quite content to help the other with whatever he wanted, or allow the very tactile Astartes to hug him when the other wanted, deliberately stepped out of the other’s immediate grabbing range and interrupted him “I don’t have time for idle chatter today. I am helping Ramiel arrange the funerals for Malachai and Lestras, ideally everything should be ready to go by the end of the week. That way the temptation for you firstborns to carve them into little pieces and study them is removed. So that, at least in death, they will have a measure of dignity and respect afforded to them.” 

Ash’val made a small choking sound, as if someone had just slit his throat.

They hadn’t, because Cedric briefly looked him over. He was physically whole and intact, and therefore Not His Problem to deal with right now. The young Apothecary darted around the stone-still Salamander, moving swiftly out of the base and ignoring anyone who wasn’t an actual Brother of his when they called his name. 

Someone was following him, so Cedric dipped into the cross-training that Claude had absolutely insisted that all of them learn on how to be stealthy. He managed to shake the Firstborn who’d been following after him in the densely crowded streets of the mortal city before making his way to his favorite bakery, and to one of the few firstborn marines he genuinely and deeply trusted with both of his hearts. 

[bubbledrivercomix]

Who’d win ? The Goo Purist Godzilla or The Knight Templar Sibling ? :D

Pt 1 / Pt 2 / Pt 3/ Pt 4

Eda and King are both very amused from their front row seats to said smackdown. Luz is very concerned. Belos is regretting ever picking up that mirror. The Collector is just happy to see their big sibling.

Anddd here is a bit of my silly fanlore/headcanon things on this au’s backstory . The Collector acknowledges Jambo as their only cool sibling and notably doesn’t consider them as an ‘Archivist’.  The Collector has misunderstood ‘Archivist’ as a term for a jerkbag older sibling aka their older quintuplet siblings.

 ‘Archivist’ is a title for all members of their species who reach adulthood. I like to fancy that Archivists are sorted into castes , but for sake of this au’s lore (lol) , ‘Jambo’ is part of the caste called the Chroniclers , which is the faction responsible for recording the exploits of their race which the ‘Archivists’ aka our Collector’s older quint siblings are part of the Preserver faction which is the most glorified caste .

The oldest siblings considered their youngest a burden, and despite being ordered to indoctrinate said youngest by taking them on ‘Preserving’, foisted 'the brat’ into their quiet,placid, seemingly emotionless middle sibling’s care. What they never expected was for said middle sibling to gradually develop genuine affection for our Collector and indulge their more pacifistic worldview rather then crush it.

Hence the oldest were in for a rude shock when ‘Jambo’ stood against their preserving the Titans and their young , just because of the Collector’s friendship with the natives. With heavy hearts, lamenting how the ‘foul Titans’ had corrupted even their level headed middle sibling with their foul power , turning them against authority, they sealed Jambo away. The elder siblings then prepared to wipe the Collector’s memory of their time spent with the Titans , and even Jambo in hopes that due to their youth , they could be ‘raised right’ this time.

However, the Collector who had witnessed the whole ‘seal away the only parental surrogate figure they have’ deal , had fled. They were found shortly by King’s father . And the rest is canon history. :D

Thank you to everyone who reblogged and liked my previous comic before this one. I really appreciate it  and hope you will like this one and the rest of the comics !

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Hide Away

Author's Note: More of Catius in Husbandry AU.

Summary: Catius and his brothers calm down enough to start thinking a little bit.

Warnings: Mentioned abuse, mentioned character death, None that I can think of. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Caitus had ensured that his brother-cousins were able to get out of the base, without getting into trouble as he ensures that the paperwork is properly signed and gotten to the right people.

Apothecary Zariel had grabbed the forms, reading them over and giving him a smile and the older Ultramarine’s eyes were not the right shade of blue for a moment.

His hearts stops for a moment as his eyes go wide at that before Zariel ensures that they are able to go to the Chaos base with the Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras is on base.

Ramiel explains to them what Zariel had told him, and they all traded significant looks. Especially since he’d indicated that the color of his eyes and armor had been deliberately off color.

Caitus clenches his fists and unclenches them as his mind spins as he tries to figure out a pattern. He licks his lips and as his eyes dart around and looks at his brother-cousins and around them.

“This is the first time that He has come to this base,” Catius states carefully. “And for understandable reasons, I think that  Ramiel and Cedric should, especially, evade and avoid him. The… rest of us, if we choose to volunteer, could stay in this Base. The Rules- and the politics of being in Ancient Terra, should protect Claude, Jophiel and I, a bit from him.”

“We are Primaris,” Claude points out. 

“Yes- but,” Caitus, “Remember that argument that got out of hand between the loyalists Thousand Sons and Space Wolves? Especially since they hadn’t been in a proper sparring arena and they had harmed each other without following the proper procedures… They got censured and punished for it.”

“Yeah, but that unsanctioned violence between first born marines,” Ramiel points out reasonably.

“True,” Catius says, “But there are far fewer of us Primaris Marines, known, on Ancient Terra. And you’ve seen how soft they are here. How protective they can be- especially Captain Ash’val. Throne- even some of the Chaos Marines are oddly protective of us sometimes, at least Apothecary Hura is towards Cedric, which can be a tactical advantage. If managed properly, any debts are paid swiftly and promptly.”

“This sounds like it could end extremely poorly,” Jophiel and Claude say nearly simultaneously, a flash of Insight pinging through the both of them, “Unless we are very, very careful.”

“Agreed- also Cedric and Ramiel need to continue to avoid and evade, as he could claim what he does to them isn’t ab… strict punishment, as they are of the same chapter, and alignment,” Catius says, “Even though he knows that there may be a Primaris Black Templar is around, I’m not sure if he knows which of you it is. Or that you are Cedric and Ramiel that he personally knows. Cedric and Ramiel are common enough names used. Even by us Primaris Marines.”

“... I suppose that is true. But for how long are we going to be able to evade him, if he tries to seek us out? How long before we either need to inform captain Ash’val directly as to why we do not want to see or interact with Petras unless absolutely necessary… Or the first borns here get to watch what Petras does to us in person.” Cedric murmured with a quiet, resigned sigh.

“I told Captain Ash’val in a panic that he murdered Ramiel in front of you,” Catius admits looking down and curling in himself, “He ordered me back to base, Petras is in the city, but coming to this Base again. I think he prefers this Base since Loyalist Sons of Dorn are partially running this Base, rather than the other Loyalist bases.”

“There has been some random times when medications and other supplies have gone missing, the counts being off for certain highly protected supplies,” Cedric says with a frown, now that his panic isn’t as immediate and visceral. “Someone is occasionally stealing supplies, but why?’

“Why not?” Claude counters, playing Chaos Advocate, "Supplies that are difficult to procure or make are very valuable, especially on Ancient Terra were the resources to make them are far more finite.”

“But- why are they stealing the supplies instead of negotiating for them?” Ramiel asks, thinking, eyes gazing in the middle distance, with a strange tone to his voice. “Ramiel, is something bothering you?” Catius ask his brother-cousin a concerned look crossing his face. “Just some… strange memories have come back to me that don’t make sense,” Ramiel says with a shake of his head as he rubs his temples. “What kind of memories?” Cedric ask his voice hitching a little in concern and worry for his brother. “J-just before,” Ramiel states with a slight stutter to his voice, “j-just before I arrived at Ancient Terra and…” He fades off at the wounded noise Cedric made, and Ramiel wraps his arms around his brother, hugging him. The rest of the Primaris Squad as they were unofficially called gather around the pair of Black Templars and gently give them both a hug. Jophiel extended his wings to wrap around them all as best he could, blocking them from view of everything. “I was giving the Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras a data slate that needed his sign off,” Ramiel continued, “And there were some… strange glowing things- and what I now know is a box of slightly glowing chocolates in a drawer on his desk.” “What colors were they glowing?” Jophiel and Claude ask, both of them having Psyker-abilities and knowing more of the Warp and such things due to that. Ramiel described the colors as best he could, and both of them gave each other a significant look before looking back at them. “That is… interesting. Please continue, if you can, Ramiel.” Ramiel nods and continues to speak about what he’d seen, also about the strange markings that were starting to appear on his mentor’s chest, near his belly. How angry his Mentor had been when he’d accidentally looked at the glowing vials and the chocolates and his belly a little.

[smoothie03]

Awful ship chart for TeuTemp because even in my mostly quite healthy TeuTemp paradise, there will be flaws and there have to be toxic traits otherwise it's too much of a Mary Sue and unrealistic lol

Had to tweak the template a bit because we're talking about a ship between teenagers most of the time (sometimes adults if it's an adult! AU) lol

Take it with a grain of salt, these toxic behaviours and character flaws aren't that present in practice but they are there. TeuTemp is mostly healthy and they are trying their best despite being young peeps with no relationship experience :3

"Problematic" Ship Trope:

Miscommunication is their biggest flaw because Gabriel/Templar is too stuck up in his role as the "golden child" that constantly has the feeling of having to perform and be "perfect" and he doesn't want to be a burden to Gilbert since he has his own struggles going on. (Joan/Hospitaller is telling him, that he has to be honest and talk about it because it just burns him out even more)

But Gilbert on the other hand is unbelievably clingy to Gabriel as he is one of the few people around the time of their youth that is genuinely nice and gentle to him. Therefore he is kinda fixated on him.

And the "dying for one another" comes from Gabriel dying canonically, lol.

Negative first impression:

For Gilbert, Gabriel appears like the "perfect little angel that apparently does everthing right, knows everything and is beloved by everyone" and sees it as a negative trait as it makes Gabriel appear quite arrogant. He doesn't like this perfectionism around Gabriel, it makes him feel horribly jealous and kind of angry because unlike Gabriel, he is regularly used as a scapegoat for his order and it makes him feel like he can't do anything right. (This results in him reassuring himself that he is awesome and better than everyone else to compensate the lack of praise he gets in this time period but in turn it makes him appear extremely arrogant and prideful as well. It kinda is a vicious circle.)

For Gabriel, Gilbert is annoyingly arrogant, prideful, loud and selfish which makes him feel the need to correct him so he doesn't cause a mess. He also has to remind him on a constant basis to think of others as well, so he doesn't only think of himself. (On the other hand Gilbert has to remind Gabriel not to be a damn doormat and prioritise himself more. They're kinda helping each other out in regards of that flaw in order to better themselves) So yeah, Gabriel kind of suffers from his internal need of taking care of Gilbert as he is a bit younger but Gilbert is a quite challenging child to interact with.

But it's important to note, that their first impression overall was very positive but they saw their flaws after a short while and caused this negative impression on second glance.

If they got sent to jail it was because...:

Well, Gabriel was probably (very likely) burnt on the stake for being gay for Gilbert. Also he was a Christian that charged interest which technically was forbidden to Medieval Christians but he was an exception. (Also war crimes since he is a military order but technically all Hetalia characters have war crimes on their list of commited atrocities) He also "canonically" went to jail because Philipp the Fair wasn't fair and said he was an heretic. (Gabriel would never, he would be afraid of commiting any blasphemy lol)

And Gilbert is a menace to society, I don't have to elaborate. The chart says it all.

Biggest complaint about the other:

As I said before, Gabriel dislikes Gilbert's rudeness, his selfishness and stubborness. He also dislikes his hypocrisy because I can see Gilbert being fixated on rules ONLY if they are his own rules and if he agrees with him, otherwise he absolutely gives a shit about them. If the rules are made by himself he also isn't flexible at all and the rules are mandatory.

And Gilbert hates Gabriel's people pleasing doormat-behaviour and wants him to stand up for himself and his will. He dislikes it how he would always disregard his own feelings and will just to play the marionette and please others. Once he finds out about Gabriel bottling up feelings even in front of him, he wants him to talk immediately.

Toxic traits:

Gabriel wants to act out of good reasons and would try to avoid committing stuff he views as "evil" which is why I aligned him to "innocent" (despite having done bad stuff in his life). He would constantly apologise as well if something goes wrong. He's also a humble idiot.

Gilbert on the other hand switches between remorseless and apologetic evil-doer depending on what angered him. If Gabriel was mad at him, he would apologize constantily and cry out of shame but if someone hurt Gabriel, he would hurt the person back without any remorse. (Gabriel doesn't want him to hurt others because of him but Gilbert is stubborn and like a guard dog) He's also an arrogant idiot but an arrogant genius at the same time, depending on the subject. He's intelligent and a genius by knowledge but stupid in his actions, mostly due to impulsivity.

Both are dishonest sometimes when it's about their feelings which results in uncommunicative behaviour. Gilbert comes off as narcissistic and argumentative due to his rougher personality. However, none of these flaws genuinely worsen their relationship to an alarming degree since they aren't present THAT often.

I can/can't fix him:

Gabriel would try to fix him. His name is Gabriel "I can fix him" Bonnefoy Payns. (He can't fix him. Once he dies, Gilbert goes feral. But he 'fixes' him for the time he's alive and he learnt some important aspects through him)

Gilbert would WANT to fix Gabriel but he knows he could absolutely make him worse as well. He's aware of the fact that whatever he does is unpredictable.

Devoted:

Both are EXTREMELY devoted to one another and very loyal. They absolutely adore each other.

Hugs (changed category from the original chart):

Gilbert's hugs are very strong and firm, Gabriel's are just right. Not too light and not too firm.

Love:

They are madly in love. I don't need to elaborate. They are down bad for each other and love each other very much :3

[wylldebee]

Thinking more about the Meredith Inquisition Antagonist AU and how it would've affected the world and story of Inquisition. Because of instead of a Tevinter Magister, you've got the Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. Not a mage a Templar. One of the Chantry's own. Like. Imagine how this would affect the Chantry and the Templars, when the world finds out that not only had a Templar blown up the Temple of Sacred Ashes—a holy site for those of the Andraste faith—but also killed Divine Justine V and many others, and is now one of the biggest threats since the Archdemon and the Darkspawn of the Fifth Blight. Imagine the Inquisition's new mission is now not only to defeat Meredith and close the breech, but to also investigate the Chantry and the Templars for answers on how Meredith came back and if they had anything to do with it—and it's given to you by both Orlais and Ferelden. And in the end, after the defeat of Meredith, you can pass one more judgement to Orlais and Ferelden before the game ends: The fate of the Chantry. You decide whether to let it remain as is, serverly limit their power to the point they are no longer the religious powerhouse they are, or completely get rid of it and rebuild from scratch. The pros and cons are yours to weigh and the outcome is yours to decide. So what will you choose, Inquisitor?

[ares-49789]

Cap 25.4

Un arco eléctrico voló en el cielo antes de impactar contra el gorila, la electricidad corrió por el cuerpo metálico del robot, apagando las luces que salían de las cuencas del animal mecánico

El portador que lo había lanzado era rayo, normalmente vestía un traje especialmente hecho para aguantar su poder y los combates, al contrario, ese día llevaba una túnica negra y blanca con detalles dorados que había sido ensuciada en varias zonas, un hilo de sangre bajaba de su nariz debido al combate, el hombre se alejó del robot con la respiración alterada, estaba sobre un tejado donde un golpe del gorila lo había mandado volando y desde el que había comenzado a atacar al robot, que ahora estaba congelado como una estatua

El hombre se dejó caer al suelo, exhausto después de su pelea, ni siquiera se dio cuenta de como el gorila se reiniciaba y volvía a moverse, escalando la casa de dos pisos con facilidad y amenazando al rendido héroe con su puño mecánico, de lo que sí se dio cuenta el héroe fue de como era levantado en el aire y para cuando abrió los ojos se encontraba a una calle de distancia de donde había caído al suelo, además, podía notar el suelo bajo sus pies

Pero Rayo no vio nada, solo la explosión del gorila que había estado a punto de matarlo segundos antes, y entonces divisó dos figuras volando a varios metros del suelo, Rayo los conocía, los había visto en la televisión y parecían... Más pequeños, apenas llegarían a la altura de sus hombros, y eso era hablando del más alto de los dos, Falcon frame

-Son solo niños- murmuró el hombre, viendo cómo la más baja de los dos recién llegados lanzaba dos proyectiles, que cortaron el aire envueltos en esa luz verde, el hombre tuvo que asomarse para ver qué es lo que la chica atacaba, encontrándose que la calle había sido plagada con una horda de robots, Rayo había estado tan centrado en el gran gorila que no se habia fijado en que todo estaba siendo cubierto por los robots, el hombre recordó los cientos de reportajes sobre madrid y las imágenes que habían quedado después, un sudor frío invadió su espalda al imaginarse la ciudad en la que vivía en un estado similar

No podía dejar todo a los dos jóvenes, no lo permitiría, el hombre se abofeteó ambos lados de la cara mientras respiraba profundamente, generando rayos azulados en sus manos el hombre se tiró en medio de la horda de centauros, cuando su cuerpo tocó el suelo toda la electricidad se extendió entre todos los robots en un racio de 10m, desactivándolos al instante

Los centauros cayeron al suelo bloqueando la calle por la mitad, los discos de Helena hicieron cuenta rápida de bastantes de los centauros que rodeaban el círculo, mientras rayos hacían contacto con más robots, limpiando la calle, Tobías había acabado sobre una terraza viendo lo que pasaba, su transformación estaba a punto de terminar

-Helena - dijo el chico, ella lo escuchó alto y claro, como si estuviera a su lado, a pesar de que estaba intentando hacer todo lo que podía para recoger los discos que lanzaba en sus trayectorias en el aire

-Dime- La chica lanzó uno de sus chakram para que este cortara la cabeza de un centauro a punto de atacar por la espalda a Rayo, el héroe había comenzado a avanzar entre el ejército a puñetazos con sus puños emitiendo electricidad, demostraba ser eficiente

-Hay que evitar que se expandan más - dijo el chico, recordando lo que habían hecho los héroes en Madrid, habían cortado las vías de escape en el perímetro más cercano al contenedor para que los centauros no destrozaran la capital, desde su posición en la terraza podía ver como los centauros avanzaban calle tras calle

-¿Y cómo hago eso?- preguntó la chica, lanzando su disco de nuevo antes de interceptar el otro solo para propulsarlo y hacerlo volar sobre el suelo desactivando al menos una decena de robots, que fueron devorados por la horda que corría hacia el héroe eléctrico que peleaba cerca de la esquina del bloque

-Intenta cortar las calles- dijo el chico, escuchando el último de sus pitidos, que indicaba que su transformación iba a terminar, dicho y hecho la luz roja envolvió su cuerpo revelando su ropa arreglada, la misma que había estado usando para el juicio, de su pantalón el chico sacó un pequeño tupper, tenía el tamaño de una caja de pastillas y de él sacó un trozo de carne -Come anda- dijo el chico - tenemos que volver a ayudar a nuestra manada

-No sabía que los considerabas tan cercanos - replicó Speed, comiendo la carne que le era ofrecida, Tobías sonrió mirando a Helena volar y hacer llover sus discos sobre los robots

-Son mis amigos - dijo el chico - Son mi familia encontrada- Tobías suspiró, Speed se posó sobre su hombro mirando el combate, pero eso no fue lo único que vió

-¡Tobías al suelo!- el aviso llegó justo a tiempo, porque cuando el chico se agachó, un rayo de energía pasó por donde su hombro había estado segundos atrás

El chico miró al frente, por encima del muro que bordeaba la terraza, solo para ver que centauros y gorilas no eran los únicos modelos de robot en la refriega, un centauro se había unido a la batalla, o más bien se preparaba para disparar otro rayo a su objetivo, él, Tobías escaneó la terraza para ver que su única salida estaba cerrada por una puerta de hierro

-Speed, ¿Cuánto te queda?- preguntó el chico, con el pecho ahora tocando el suelo evitando la visión del escorpión

-Unos min... - contestó el kwami, Tobías pudo escuchar el sonido del escorpión aterrizando en la terraza- ¡Rueda!- el chico hizo caso a su kwami y rodó por el suelo, evitando un disparo en el bazo pero llenando su camisa de polvo, no como si le importara más que estar vivo

El chico usó ese movimiento para levantarse del suelo y enfrentarse al escorpión, que cargaba otro disparo, Tobías corrió hacia la puerta de metal que bloqueaba las escaleras para bajar al edificio

-PARA- Siguiendo la instrucción de su kwami el chico se plantó instantáneamente y el rayo disparado por el escorpión atravesó la puerta de metal, Lo que Tobías aprovechó para entrar y bajar las escaleras

Sin tiempo para fijarse en el edificio el chico bajó dos pisos solo para encontrarse de frente con una persona, un hombre de más de Ochenta años, calvo y cara de mala leche, que además cargaba con una escopeta de caza en su mano derecha y un garrote en la izquierda

-¿Quién eres y qué haces aquí? -Preguntó el hombre, apuntando a Tobías con el arma, el chico levantó sus manos, Speed se había ocultado en su camisa y el kwami podía notar como su portador se ponía nervioso solo por su respiración acelerada

-Soy Tobías y hago tiempo - contestó el chico, un ruido fuerte se escuchó por toda la escalera

-¿Te está persiguiendo uno de esos bichos?- el hombre preguntó, aunque no parecía muy preocupado, Tobías asintió sin bajar las manos, el hombre escaneó al chico y bajó el arma

-Sígueme anda- dijo el hombre, señalando con su cabeza hacia una puerta ya abierta, puerta que correspondía al 3°B, el chico siguió al hombre dentro del apartamento y cerró la puerta a sus espaldas

Tobías miró las paredes de la entrada, llenas de fotos del hombre, pero no eran fotos normales, la mayoría estaban en blanco y negro y no solo de él, sino de grupos de hombres y más de una bandera de España con el Halcón abrazando el escudo

-¿Cómo has llegado a mi terraza?- preguntó el hombre, Tobías miró al hombre, que se había sentado en una silla frente a él, seguramente ya había estado ahí, pero parecía haber aparecido de la nada, aún así Tobías no respondió- Veo que no responderás -suspiró el hombre- entonces responde esto, ¿Cómo conseguiste esa muñequera y cuál es tu relación con Salvador Fernández?

Tobías miró su muñeca, las mangas de su camisa se habían subido cuando había levantado los brazos segundos antes y había dejado esta a la vista, pero eso no le preocupaba, ese hombre acababa de decir el nombre de su padre

-Soy su hijo - dijo el chico, el hombre lo miró fijamente antes de soltar una carcajada

-Eres muy joven, ¿Es tu abuelo Cristian?- Preguntó el hombre, el chico asintió

-Entonces encantado de conocerte, chico - dijo el hombre - Soy el Cabo Jaime López Márquez, serví bajo tu bisabuelo durante los buenos tiempos- Tobías miró al anciano, sabía que era viejo, pero nadie se esperaría que ese hombre pudiera ser tan viejo

-¿Serviste bajo mi bisabuelo?- el chico nunca había escuchado nada de ese hombre, parecía un tema delicado para su padre y su abuelo, sabía que ambos habían estado en el ejército, pero eso era normal, la Mili era obligatoria, pero aquí se encontraba con un hombre que decía haber estado bajo su bisabuelo

-Te pareces a él - comentó el hombre - Mucho más joven, y el pelo es más largo, pero tus ojos son los mismos - dijo- ¿está bien Falco?- preguntó el viejo, Tobías iba a preguntar por ese tal Falco, pero speed se le adelantó, saliendo de su escondite

-Ahora me llaman Speed - dijo el kwami, Tobías miró al pequeño halcón, ya no había caso en esconderlo al parecer, porque parecía conocerlo, el hombre volvió a soltar una carcajada

-Y yo que creía que no te iba a volver a ver en mi vida, Falco- rió el hombre, Speed asintió - Veo que has sido elegido por un novato, no tengas miedo de darle un tirón en las orejas, los suyos son más duros de lo que parecen

-No te preocupes, Jaime, eso ya lo hace Cristian por mí- el kwami parecía contento de haber encontrado a ese hombre, Tobías sabía que su bisabuelo había sido también portador del halcón, pero no que había contado a más gente sobre su existencia, el hombre levantó una ceja cuando escuchó la mención de Cristian

-¿Así que Cristian el miedica por fin es un hombre? El tiempo realmente pasa rápido- el hombre suspiró, sacando un cigarrillo del bolsillo de su camisa

-Oye Speed, ¿no tenemos que irnos y encargarnos del robot?- preguntó el chico, el kwami lo miró, sabía que tenía razón

-Tienes razón- dijo el pequeño halcón - que vaya bien, Jaime- dijo, antes de asentir a Tobías

-Speed, ¡despegue!- el hombre no parpadeó cuando la luz cubrió al chico, ni siquiera apartó la mirada, pero una lágrima se deslizó por su mejilla, porque estaba siendo testigo de algo que creía que nunca volvería a ver

-Chico- dijo el hombre - Sirve bien a tu país- Tobías asintió abriendo la puerta con su espada firmemente agarrada en su mano derecha

.............................................................................................................

Pedro secó sus lágrimas usando sus mangas, había logrado emocionar a la taquígrafa, pero la jueza seguía en su pedestal, impasible ante las cualidades de actor del hombre, que se sentía satisfecho con el trabajo hecho, sabía que poca gente se podría resistir al llanto de un padre que hace todo por sus hijos solo para ser traicionado, acuchillado por la espalda, fue perfecto que se retiraba y encajaba en su papel de emocionado el sentarse y taparse la boca, porque apenas podía esconder su maliciosa sonrisa saliendo a la luz

-El demandado ha expuesto su defensa - concluyó la jueza cuando el hombre se sentó en su asiento, la mujer dirigió su mirada a los demandantes y en como estos miraban al hombre, no estaba nada claro, pero sabía que nadie era capaz de denunciar a su familia si no era por algo real, solo tenía que descubrir si el que mentía era el padre... O eran ellos los que estaban siendo manipulados, su mirada voló hasta el hombre que se sentaba junto a los chicos, era solo una pequeña posibilidad, pero si ese hombre estaba haciendo daño a los chicos o aprovechándose de ellos no lo perdonaría- Es hora de que los demandantes presenten a su primer testigo - dijo la mujer

Clara miró a Tobías, o más bien al lugar donde esté había estado sentado minutos atrás antes de salir corriendo de la mano de su prima, no lo podía creer, podía ser llamado al estrado en cualquier momento y se había ido a quién sabe donde, la chica a veces se preguntaba qué veía su prima en él, bueno, lo haría si no fuera porque esta ya se había encargado de cantar miles de baladas al chico, el caso era que no estaba ahí, y los gemelos lo necesitaban

La chica vió como tras un intercambio de miradas entre los que ocupaban la mesa de los gemelos y algunas señas a distintos papeles sobre esta, la abogada de sus amigos se levantó para quedar frente a la jueza de nuevo, de pie en el centro de la tormenta, como un guerrero que preparaba sus armas para una pelea que acabaría con él, bueno, si sus armas fueran sus palabras y lo que estaba en juego eran las vidas de sus amigos, lo cual parecía menos importante, pero era una motivación mejor que ninguna otra

-Llamo al estrado a David García Palao - dijo la mujer, Clara vió como el hombre suspiraba antes de levantarse, uno de los guardias lo siguió y lo escoltó hasta la plataforma del podio más baja, a la izquierda de la jueza, el hombre tenía la barbilla en alto, pedo Clara podía notar su nerviosismo desde ese lado de la sala, pasaron unos tensos segundos de silencio antes de que la jueza hablara

-¿Jura decir la verdad a todas las preguntas que te sean presentadas en el tiempo que te encuentres en este lugar?- preguntó la jueza, mirando al hombre desde la altura

-Lo juro- contestó David, la jueza sonrió, escuchando el tono impreciso de la respuesta del hombre, ese tono de duda e indecisión

-Diga su nombre y profesión - pidió Laura, la mujer ya lo sabía, claro, había leído todo lo que había llegado a sus manos sobre el caso como era su deber pero el papel se podía cambiar, no como las acciones reales de una persona

-David García Palao, trabajo como mecánico desde hace siete años en un taller en el distrito industrial de las Teresas - contestó el hombre, intentando bajar la frecuencia de sus latidos

-¿Cuál es su relación con el demandado y los demandantes?- preguntó la mujer

-Soy el hermano pequeño de la madre de los demandantes y ex-cuñado del demandado- dijo el hombre dejando salir el aire que tenía atrapado en los pulmones con un suspiro después de responder

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

<- Parte anterior | Parte siguiente ->

Introducción | Arcos

[laurelwen]

Like Minds Masterpost - Main

Analysis

Who Killed Susan?

Nigel Colbie Birth Chart

Alex Forbes Birth Chart

Jack Birth Chart

Brief Note: The real Maraclea

Breakdown and Comparison of the Books

Nigel's Book Details: Spread One

Alex Forbes' Father

First Paragraph of WIP Essay re: Gothic in Like Minds (I swear I'm still working on this--I have 18 pages written now!)

Rambling about Sally and Martin

Response re: Read quote about Frankenstein and sociopaths

Ask/Answer: What Denomination is the School

Misogyny: Fridging Trope

Martin McKenzie and Alex Forbes

Annotations

Nigel's Notes about Alex

Texts: Nigel's Reading in Class

Texts: Nigel's Essay Notes for Alex

Texts: My Beloved Maraclea

Texts: Compulsory Miseducation

Texts: Alex's Essay (deleted scene)

Texts: Sally's Books

Insolent Young Man

Interview with Gregory Read, Writer/Director/Goober

Leopold and Loeb

Filming Location: Secret Rendezvous

Templars and Friday the 13th

Alex's Bulletin Board - Music

Still Photography from Set

The Battle of Forbie

Obscure Media: Encore VFX Article

Obscure Media: Macabre Myths

Like Minds Masterpost - Aesthetic

Like Minds Masterpost - Humor

Playlists

I'll Take You To My Grave, a Canon Playlist (play in order!)

Nigel Colbie's iPod on Spotify, and on Youtube: a dark academia vibe

Like Minds AU (they both live, inspired by He Stings Like He Means It) on Spotify and Youtube

Not My Fic

He stings like he means it (He's mean and he's mine) - again, I don't write this, but I do beta for it and it's amazing!

My Fic

"And the sun won't resign (until you're by my side)" Post; Direct AO3 link

All posts/reblogs which I have tagged:

#like minds #nigel colbie #alex forbes #nigel colbie x alex forbes

Misc Other Stuff I Need to Keep Around

My Encounter with Eddie Redmayne (and outfit details) One Year Anniversary Diagnosing Nigel Colbie Part 1 and Part 2 Demian/Like Minds similarities posts Part 1 and Part 2 Reincarnation Seed Idea Discussion re: Nigel's Bag

[gococogo]

A New Day for a New Year | Shaytham New Years Special

Synopsis: Having been invited to party for New Years, Haytham drags Shay along. He wishes he was at home instead of here where there's no prying eyes. Watching him. Judging him. Not being able to hold onto the only person he adores at this party.

But little does Haytham know, everyone watches the fireworks. Watches their colours against the dark night. Everyone but Shay, who is only looking at him.

Word Count: 2.3K

Pairing: Shay Cormac/Haytham Kenway

Genre: Fluff/Angst/Assassin's Creed Rogue

Notes: I wish you all a happy new year! 2024 is here! Scary haha

The last time Shay Cormac was at Two Bends, he had assassinated Lawrence Washington.

Haytham would have known that already as far as Shay’s knowledge of him goes. Information around the Templars seems to travel quite quickly. He’s just glad that he doesn’t speak about it to Shay. The guilt of killing a sick and dying man still weighs him down some nights. Despite what Liam had said all that time ago, it hadn’t of help.

Twin Bends hasn’t changed a bit. Still the same old housing, same old dock and same old mansion and garden sitting up on the hill overlooking the bend. People bustle and laugh in the streets and on the dock, all here for the New Years party Haytham has dragged Shay along to. He was hesitant to come at first, but Haytham was persistent. He didn’t say it out loud, but it seemed like the Grandmaster didn’t want to attend alone.

The ship that brought them here wasn’t the Morrigan but instead a private vessel that the host of party had sent out. Mr Shaw -Shay has found out- is a supporter of the Templar cause. He isn’t apart of the Order, he only maintains a friendly relationship with Haytham so that he can stay above the rest. Stay in power and in kindness to that, Haytham receives information and money.

He’s the one hosting this New Years party and the same one that has invited Haytham along. In celebration for this upcoming year for the Order. But that celebration is only for Haytham and Mr. Shaw to know about. All Shay knows is that Mr. Shaw is an acquaintance. A very rich one.  

Haytham leads Shay into the manor’s garden, the Irishman keeping quiet and to himself. The Grandmaster doesn’t bother asking why the normally mouthy man is holding his tongue, he knows the memories these gardens must hold. He can only imagine though, the report on Lawrence’s death had told him everything he needed to know.

And something like that night, the garden is lit with soft orange lamps and flowers bloom on the bushes that line that fences. Everyone is dressed formally, even Haytham and Shay have changed from their usual attire to a couple of suits. Haytham still wears his cloak over his shoulders while Shay has just adopted for a simple black suit with red accents. His hair is done up nicely with a little red bow tie keeping it up. It’s cute but that is something Haytham would never say out loud.

A butler walks past with a tray full of voul-au-vents and with a delicate hand, Haytham picks off two. He holds one of to Shay, but the man’s attention is somewhere else entirely. The man doesn’t normally phase out like this but when he does, he gets caught in his own head very easily.

It takes Haytham twice calling his name to get the man’s attention, “Shay.”

“Hmm?” Shay hums as he looks to Haytham then down at the voul-au-vent being presented to him.

He takes the small pastry from Haytham with a small thanks. It’s gone within a single bite. His nose screws up the slightest but keeping to his good manners at the party, he swallows the voul-au-vent without a word. Haytham takes a bite of his own and silently agrees with Shay, the small pastries aren’t the best.

Haytham peers around the garden with a furrowed brow. Leviticus Shaw is nowhere to be seen. There are some men and women that Haytham recognises but other than that, everyone else are strangers.

“Do you think it’s best to socialize?” Shay asks suddenly.

He keeps his attention on Haytham instead of his surroundings. It seems to help him keep him from diving too deep into old, repressed memories.

Haytham hums to himself as he takes another look around before coming back to Shay with a short, “I think it would be. We should go for a wonder and find the host of this event.”

Shay nods, “Sounds like a plan.”

Despite them looking for Mr. Shaw, neither of them move quickly. They plod through the garden with conversation on their lips. Shay asks of Mr. Shaw, more curious than anything and Haytham is more willing to tell. At one point in their talk, Haytham snatches two glasses of champagne from a passing butler and hands one to Shay without a pause. At least the alcohol is better than the food Mr. Shaw is providing.  

-

“Mr. Kenway!”

Both men turn quick at the sudden shout. Shay looks Mr. Shaw up and down with a hostile sternness in his shoulders. The man is tall and stocky, his suit fitting him snuggly. Shay can almost smell the wealth coming from him and it makes him turn his head away slightly. But he keeps formal for Haytham’s sake.

The Grandmaster and Mr. Shaw shake hands firmly as they greet each other. Haytham looks small compared to Mr. Shaw, the other man as thick as a tree stump. Shay keeps quiet as the two catch up on their lives, then the stocky man’s bright blue eyes lock onto Shay. Like a blood hound looking at a hare.

“So, who is this handsome man you’ve yet to introduce me to, Haytham?” Leviticus asks with a devilish grin.

With a gesture of a hand, Haytham announces the Irishman formally, “This is Captain Cormac, one of my finest to the Order.”

Shay’s chest swells at the small praise from Haytham. He never would have received such words in the Creed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shaw,” Shay says with a short nod of his head.

Mr. Shaw’s eyes slightly widen. “What accent is that? Can’t quite place it.”

“My parents were Irish,” Shay explains.

“Both immigrants?”

At this, Shay is a little hesitant before answering a short, “Yes.”

Within the second, Mr. Shaw’s demeaner changes towards Shay. It’s a subtle change, but Shay picks up on it straight away. It’s the slight curl in Shaw’s lip and the tilt of the chin upwards that tells him all he needs to know.

Shay wishes to leave. But he doesn’t wish to make a scene in front of everyone. Not while Haytham is right next to him. That’s the last thing the Grandmaster of the Templar Order needs. One of his subjects spewing a bunch of shit in front of someone he respects. Last thing Shay wants is to be muzzled like a dog.

Mr. Shaw turns his attention back to Haytham, his features instantly brightening again. He clasps his hands together in front of him as he asks, “How are you enjoying the night so far?”

“It’s good to be here, Leviticus,” Haytham answers back.

“Good. We have fireworks planned when the new year turns over. Will you still be around by then?” Shaw pushes.

“Of course.”

“Wonderful!” Shaw grins. “I’ll come find you later, I have other guests to find and greet,” Shaw explains, his eyes flittering to Shay for a split second.

“That’s alright. I’ll meet with you before I take my leave,” Haytham instructs.

“Good! I’ll see you then!” And with that and a small nod, Mr. Shaw is wondering off into another part of the garden.

In the distant, in the gazebo, a band picks up a soft tune that fills the night. A complete opposite of the blazing annoyance Shay has buzzing around inside his chest right now.

“Can I speak informally, sir?” Shay asks with a low voice so no one can hear but the man beside him.

Haytham looks to him with a single raised brow. “Not here,” he murmurs.

Shay exhales through his nose and calls a butler over instead. Within three seconds, Shay downs one glass of champagne before grabbing two more and passing one over to Haytham. Shay downs the second champagne without a second thought and gives the butler the empty glass. With a wordless look, the butler offers a third glass. This, Shay eyes before accepting and shooing the butler away.

Out of curiosity, Haytham says, “You may speak informally.”

Brown eyes blink at him. “He’s a prick,” is all Shay says.

Haytham bites his tongue to hold back a smile. “I’m sorry?”

“Is he British?” Shay asks. “Couldn’t tell because he doesn’t have an accent like yours.”

“Like mine?”

“Is he?” Shay pushes.

“Yes.”

“Explains a lot.”

At this, Haytham scoffs lightly at the sudden attitude Shay has developed. Shay sips at his champagne as he looks about the party, trying not to down this one glass. But he fails, his glass tipping up, up and up until it’s all gone. He places the empty glass on a passing butler, scaring the man a bit.

Haytham should be a little hurt being a British man himself. But in all honesty, he finds this amusing. He’s well aware of the conflict between Irish and British and he has never fancied himself to be a part of that. Too much effort to hate someone over their birthplace and birthright. Effort he could put towards the Order. But Shaw, Shaw seems to have some effort to use it.

“Don’t let Leviticus get under your skin, Shay. He’s a rich man that only wishes to be known and liked by everyone,” Haytham says as he gives a small pat to Shay’s shoulder.

This, the simple touch seems to calm Shay down a tad. Enough for his gaze to return to Haytham and enough for his shoulders to slouch a bit. At this moment, Haytham wishes that he could bring Shay closer to him. To hold the back of his head as Shay’s face rests in the nook of his neck. But there are eyes about. And so instead of this, Haytham gestures with his head to continue their walk in the garden.

“Let’s walk it off, Shay,” Haytham softly says.

The Irishman straightens himself up and follows Haytham with a newfound will of bliss. As they walk, Haytham slowly sips on his own drink. The two of them keep to themselves, not too particular in conversating with anyone else but themselves. The only company Haytham wants tonight is Shay. That is enough.

Tonight, almost never happened. Shay had business in Albany that he was set to sail out for. He had celebrated Christmas loudly with Gist and his mindset had quickly come back to the Order. So, skipping New Years was something he could put up with. But with Haytham’s stern invitation -the only reason he was stern is because he didn’t want Charles Lee joining him- Shay had come along.

Being so deep in the garden, -only a few people pass here and there- the first pop of a firework has both of them looking up to the night sky quick as anything. Red shimmers across the sky, then another pop and a bright blue joins. Haytham watches with a softness for a moment. For he finds his gaze turning to Shay.

Big brown eyes are lit up with the colours of the sky. A small smile is spread across his handsome features, something that is infectious. Feeling the gaze, Shay turns to meet Haytham, his smile widening.

For the second time tonight, Haytham wishes he could embrace Shay. Wishes he could hold him in his arms like so many other couples tonight. He wishes he wasn’t someone so high and respected so that he could reach out to Shay in a loving way. But instead, all Haytham gives is the slightest of smiles, a twitch of a lip, before he turns his attention back to the fireworks.

An ache comes to his heart. A jealousy that he cannot outwardly love like everyone else in this garden tonight. That everything he and Shay share can only be shown behind closed doors and shuttered windows. He isn’t watching the fireworks, his mind thinking of other things.

A faint touch comes to his lower back under his cape that brings Haytham out of thought very quickly. Shay pulls him closer and Haytham reacts with a hand pushing on the other man’s chest. His heart beats in his own chest like the popping of the fireworks overhead, but he can feel that Shay’s is steady as anything. A hand covers his on Shay’s chest and squeezes softly. Shay’s face is so close, he can smell the champagne on his breath.

“Everyone is watching the fireworks,” Shay whispers out with a sheepish grin.

Haytham looks around and the few people that are in this part of the garden, their eyes are up to the sky. No one is looking at them. No one cares for their surroundings. Yet still, a twisted paranoia gnaws at Haytham. What if someone is watching.

All worry is swept away as a small kiss is placed to his temple. He blinks at the touch, his eyes still on everyone. But no one shouts. No one gasps in horror at the act. No one utters a word but at the awe of the colours blooming in the sky.

With a little relief inside of his cold heart, Haytham looks to Shay who hasn’t taken his eyes off of him this entire time. He squeezes Haytham’s hand again, a wordless assurance.

Under the fireworks, for the new year that comes, the two share a kiss in the blooming garden. Haytham doesn’t care that all he can taste is champagne. He doesn’t care that Shay’s lips are a little dry from talking in the cold night all evening. He kisses him softly with a hand on the back of his neck before anyone can spot them. They hold onto each other while the short moment lasts. While no one is watching. No one will know. No one will see. Only they will know of this moment that they both will keep to their hearts for the year to come. For the next day will hold something special. And the coming year will be held with all kinds of surprises.

What a happy new years indeed.

[athikustra]

Assassin Creed Au:

A dangerous organization abducted a young barista whose genetic code hides a way to seek a powerful artifact that enables them to change the course of history as we know it.

Follow Tweek as he embarks on a journey as one of his ancestors, a young barbarian who wants to protect his tribe from an invasion led by an organization similar to the Templar order.

As he comprehends his situation, he starts to get closer to a certain boy who seems to be working for another ancient organization.

[teecupangel]

i know you have so much on your plate rn but i can't stop thinking about Ezio-era Baker!Desmond and the shenanigan layers of ✨intrigue✨ going on with Ezio and Leo thinking he’s Giovani's bastard, and Maria inviting him to the villa on a whim ’cause she thinks her kids (and Leo) like the pastries, and Desmond misinterpreting absolutely everything because that boy is a Wreck™

what comes of it, tho?? is Desmond trying to alter history more than just pre-inventing exotic baked goods? is he already having to dodge assassins around Italy while trying to protect the Auditore family, getting on Giovani's radar and spooking him ’cause he can't figure out what branch he's from? or is Desmond holed up in his bakery trying very hard NOT to change anything ’cause hey he’d already saved the world he’d like to not fuck things up bad enough to have to do it again?

does Giovani catch a glimpse of him at some point (either just in the bakery or while Desmond’s out being assassin-y), and instead of thinking he looks like himself or Ezio (since this would be before Ezio gets the scar), thinks he looks eerily like the statue of Altaïr? as another layer of shenanigan, he could come to Leonardo with the idea of time travel but thinks that Desmond is from the PAST rather than the FUTURE, and Leo spends the whole convo trying not to blurt that he thinks/knows Desmond is GIOVANI'S kid

just. the confusion of this au speaks to me, since it’s ALMOST crack-y but also these fools are canonically FOOLS, and i love the way you blend angst with shenanigans. im also shippy at heart, so would love to see your take on that in this au if you have the time 👀

(thank you for reading, i hope you're doing well! 🧡)

As long as you guys are find that your asks are getting answered a month later, I’m alright with adding more to my plate XD (just to be clear, this is a first-in-first-out basis for both asks and replies/reblogs and I’m only about to clear Oct 13 XD)

The original Desmond becomes a baker in Renaissance Italy and gets mistaken as Giovanni’s illegitimate child idea for those curious.

In this one, Desmond only went as far as stop the Auditores from being arrested by dropping key documents showing Uberto’s treachery to the Medici. He stayed as far away as he could from the Auditores and only dropped off the evidence in Lorenzo’s bedside table one day, slipping into the darkness. Anyone who saw him actually thought he was a monk since he was wearing a monk’s attire (which he burned afterwards). This does lead to Giovanni and the thieves guild looking for him after since he hasn’t done any other Assassin related stuff and was simply living his life as a baker, they’re hitting a dead end. Desmond doesn’t plan to do anything else since he believes that the Auditores would be able to handle it from here and he’s betting on Giovanni finally starting Ezio’s training after learning that the Templars are after his family.

Giovanni’s first glimpse of him is when he checked the bakery from afar since his family seemed to like it so much. He just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t post any danger to his family and maybe even talk to La Volpe into adding it to the thieves’ patrol route just so they would have eyes on the bakery at all time. It’s gotten so popular that the Medici are even thinking of ordering from them so Giovanni figured he should do reconnaissance before it got to that point. When he saw Desmond, he doesn’t see the similarities between them, he saw Desmond looking a lot like the statue of Altaïr and he freaks out. Because, unlike Ezio or Leonardo, he does have an inkling of how powerful Those Who Come Before were. He has seen the Shroud and he has heard the tales of how Altaïr had mastered one of their weapons. And… if the Shroud could heal all and any injuries then… In this case, Giovanni doesn’t think Desmond is a time traveler, he thinks Desmond is Altaïr himself who has gained immortality thanks to the ‘powers’ of Those Who Come Before.

Thank you! I honestly like writing these ideas where it’s crack but not crack enough that it’s a bit confusing XD

[sleepyfan-blog]

Introductions

Author’s Note: This is the next part of Cedric’s adventures in the Husbandry AU! A big thanks to @kit-williams for allowing me to borrow her ocs Arnault, Roland, Angela and Backerin! Masterlist here

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@c-u-c-koo-4-40k

Warnings: Mentions of Petras and his bullshit, please ask me to tag something if I missed it/somethign bothers you

Summary: Cedric introduces Pallius and Olivar to Roland, Arnault and their bonded humans. 

“Olivar, Pallius how are you doing today?” Cedri asked curiously as he watched how two still-healing Brothers carefully stretch and limber up for the low-intensity physical training class that they were going to be participating in later today.

“... Pretty good. Why? Are they going to torment us with some other kinds of boring, basic exercises while not letting us outside of the base?” Olivar grumbled, a surly frown appearing on his face as he slowly eased himself through the leg stretches that he’d been ordered to use. Why the micromanaging bastards thought all of this was necessary when he’d been left to tend punishment-inflicted wounds on his own before, and had managed well enough on his own, thank you very much… The young Black Templar did not know. On the other hand, Cedric did say that his wounds had killed him in M42. 

“Are they concerned that Ancient Terra is so perilous that we need to be at our absolute best, when outside of the base? I know the legends say that cruel and mad sorcerer-kings fought over dominion of HOly Terra for years uncounted before He smote them  and the false idols they worshipped as Gods… But I thought that had been during The Long Night… Has Humanity already scattered across the stars?” Pallius asked, his blue-brown eyes shining with curiosity and nervousness in equal measure.

Cedric hesitated before answering “THe chief apothecary is limiting your movements in order to ensure that you both are healing correctly. There… As for the dangers of Ancient Holy Terra… The most dangerous threat to us as Astartes are the similarly time-displaced renegade and Heretic Astartes. However their witch-bond connection to the Warp is significantly reduced, and using the Warp for unnatural acts is much harder. In part due to the fact that the Eye of Terror does not exist at this point in time. At this time, only Holy Terra holds Humanity.”

“.. Does that mean that there are only three major ruinous powers at the moment?” Olivar asked, straightening out of his stretch, a curious expression appearing on his face “Why do our hosts -who are allegedly loyalists too, suffer traitors and worse to live?  The heretics could corrupt the mortals of this time. Why would they allow-” Olivar stood up, agitated and worried, starting to pace around “Is that why you’re being so cautious in what you tell us, Cedric? What… what bargains have you made in order to ensure that the supplies and time we are luxuriating in using to heal?”

Cedric blinked, reaching out to try and placate his easily riled brother “There are maybe upwards of five-hundred thousand Astartes total on Ancient and Holy Terra. There are less than ten billion mortals total on Ancient  Terra. Luna and Mars have yet to be colonized… Much less the Jovian shipyards and supporting moon colonies to be built. I have been told that should an all-out war happen between the different Astartes factions, it would only devastate humanity in it’s infancy and sabotage everything we stand for and wish to protect.”

“And what about the heretics and their corrupting natures? Or have the firstborns who run things not told you?” Pallius chimed in, visibly concerned. He had also stopped stretching, the information his brother was telling them was too important not to give his full and undivided attention to.

Cedric sighed “I have been told that there is a treaty in place that goes over those questions and a great many other concerns. Chaos and Witchery in general is much more difficult to use and reach here and now. I’ve been told this repeatedly… And both Claude and Jophiel agree with that, that Witchery is much harder to use.”

“Who else is here, that we know?” Oliver asked curiously, mind racing. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted the information about Witchery, but he could tell that Cedric was telling him the truth as he knew it.

“Alive? Ramiel, Olly, and…” Cedric swallowed hard “Chaplain captain Petras. The Honorable Chaplain leads a small band of Firstborn Brothers and wanders as the God Emperor wills them to. Dead? Malachai and Lestras. THey also arrived on Ancient Terra Badly injured… Unfortunately, they were too injured to survive their wounds, despite best efforts to keep them alive.”

The three of them weren’t the only ones in this training room - there were about a dozen or so injured Firstborn Brother-Cousins in groups of three to six, being monitored by an apothecary or well-trained mortal as they stretched and went about their exercises. The chance that their conversation might be overheard was very high, so the young Apothecary was trying to hint to his fellow Primaris Brothers to choose their words carefully without saying or signing such outright, and potentially get more scrutiny placed on them. Cedric had already been dodging the questions about why and how so many of the primaris Black Templars were arriving on Ancient Terra with the same kinds of injuries and state of near-death.

“Ugh. Of course he is here. Is he as much of a heavy-handed bastard here as he is at home?” Olivar asked with the tact the God-Emperor gave a buzzfly. 

Cedric silently whispered a prayer of protection, grace and patience before answering with as much neutrality as he could conjure in his voice “Olivar… Your bluntness gets you into trouble… Please take care with how you speak.”

Pallisu whacked Olivar on the back of the head lightly at the same time “Olivar! You can’t say that out loud about a chaplain! You’re going to get all of us doing penitent punishment for weeks, if not longer.”

“I want my question answered!” Olivar pouted, glaring up at both of them “And you both know I”m right about him.”

“... I haven’t had the opportunity to interact with him directly yet. I haven’t been on Ancient Terra for very long, and he rarely visits this base.” Cedric hedged before changing the subject “However there are a couple of firstborn Brothers who live here in town. I like and respect them both quite a bit.”

“... Like you respect Apothecary Xonfreid… Or like us and Ramel?” Pallisu asked, covering his mouth with one hand as he asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper. Uncertain hope flickered across his face.

“Hrmph. Just who are these Older Brothers? Why do they stay in one place?” Olivar huffed, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“Battle Brother Roland Lichtner is bonded to Miss Becky, who is very nice. She makes baked goods for a living. Do you remember the brot that I shared with you two last week?” Cedric began, suppressing a mischievous grin with difficulty. 

“That was the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. Of course I remember the bread.” Olivar answered, wistful “I want more…”

“Yeah, the taste! The texture! It was almost overwhelming in a good way. You called it sourdough?” Pallius answered, grinning.

“Miss Becky made that loaf of sourdough herself.” Cedric revealed. “As for the other Older Brother… He is bonded to Miss Angela. She’s a quiltmaker and I think a seamstress as well? Do you remember that weighted quilt that I brought over for us to huddle together under during the thunderstorm yesterday?”

“Yeah.” Pallius answered quietly.

Olivar nodded silently, shuddering a little at the memory of the horrible sounds that the thunder had made. “Wait… The renowned sniper, Roland Lichtner?”

Pallius’ eyes widened. He had been undergoing training in M42 as a Sniper -while Glorious Melee was best, he had a steady aim and a good eye - and besides. The Cowardly Xenos and bastard Heretics used long-range, and so a certain number of Brothers were chosen to learn to use similar but sanctified weapons in order to pick them off before they downed their melee brothers. “He… He lives here?” He saw the other as an exemplar of what it was to be a Black Templar Sniper. 

“He does! In the town, not specifically on base.” Cedric explained, a grin on his face, watching Pallius’ eyes light up with awe and delight.

“You mentioned a second Firstborn Brother? And his… Bonded? What do you mean by bonded?” Olivar asked curiously.

Cedric quickly explains what he understands of Bonding, before revealing “Miss Angela is bonded to Brother Arnault Wach. She’s the one who made that lovely quilt.”

“As… As in Emperor’s Champion Arnault Wach?” Olivar asked, his voice a startled squeak.

Cedric nodded, still grinning “Do you want to meet them? I’ve been given permission to take the two of you off base and to meet brothers Roland und Arnault and their bonded?”

“... Today? Now-ish?” Olivar asked, voice still shaky, eyes wide.

Cedric nodded “We’d have to walk over to where they are, but ja. I was thinking we’d go to the Bakery first, talk to bruder Roland und his Bonded, get something to eat - don’t worry, I have enough local currency for the three of us and then head over to Bruder Arnault’s und his Bonded’s home.” He looked them both other “Unless you’re not feeling up to it? They want to meet you. Oh! We’re not supposed to tell Brother Arnault he’s an Emperor’s Champion, as he was pulled from a time before he became one.”

“Oh… That makes sense.” Pallius hummed, nodding a little. “I’d like to shower first, and change into the nicer set of civilian clothes that were given to me, but otherwise I’m ready to meet them.”

Olivar nodded “I would like a bit of time to prepare, but I am ready to face - er. Meet them today as well.”

Cedric nodded, smiling a little. He’d asked Ramiel if he wanted to come on this trip too, but the young Judicar was busy with training today. “Alright. Meet you at the front desk in an hour?”

The other two Primaris Black Templars agreed, before heading off to their assigned rooms to get clean and changed.

~

It was a pleasantly sunny day, and Cedric was unsurprised to find that the bakery had a line of eager and hungry mortals waiting to purchase their baked goods that stretched out of the door. He gestured for Pallius and Olivar to join him at the back of the line, humming a little to himself.

Thankfully, despite the length of the line, it moved swiftly, and soon the three Primaris Marines found themselves within the charmingly decorated and mouth-wateringly delicious smelling shop. Many of the baked goods had been sold out, but what was remaining still looked and smelled amazing.

The mortal behind the payment counter spotted the three of them and briefly headed into the back of the shop, followed back into the main room by Roland, who smiled a little as he spotted Cedric, his gaze looking over the other two Pimaris Marines curiously. He walked over to the three of them and murmured “Hallo Cedric Are these two Olivar und Pallius?”

Cedric nodded, beaming as he gently laid a hand on the slightly shaking Pallius’ shoulder “Ja! This is Pallius.” he paused for a moment before nudging Olivar “Und this is Olivar.”

Neither one of his fellow Primaris Brothers spoke for several seconds, their eyes wide, their breathing fast and shallow. Cedric silently nudged both of them and Pallius spoke up first “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Cedric had us try some of the sourdough that is made and sold here. It’s very good.”

Roland’s eyes lit up “A fellow bread lover! Ja, mein beloved’s broten has no equal in this or any other world! Come, follow me, the three of you. She has been just as curious about the two of you as I have been. She is busily working away, kneading.”

“Yessir.” Olivar and Pallius answered at the same time, dutifully following after the Older Brother. 

Cedric grinned as he followed them as well, calling out as soon as they were close “Hallo miss Becky!”

The short human woman set down the bag of flour that she’d been carrying and rushed over, hugging him as best as she could manage “Hello, Cedric! Are these your newly arrived brothers?”

Cedric nodded, beaming “Ja! This is Pallius und this is Olivar.” He explained, gesturing to his brothers in turn, gently hugging her back. 

She let him go and went up on her tiptoes, peering up at the two newcomers “You two certainly do look like Cedric’s brothers. Come closer, please. I promise not to bite.”

“Careful, my love. They are both injured from whatever they’d been up to before they arrived here on Terra. I believe that Pallius has fractured ribs, und the reason why Olivar is holding his left arm like that is because of broken bones as well.” Roland hummed, staring directly at Cedric as he said that.

Cedric could hear the silent question in the older Black Templar’s voice, but he needed to talk privately with his fellow Primaris marines before they decided what it was they were going to tell the others here. “They are well enough to take short trips out of the base, though.”

Olivar was the first to move closer to the mortal woman, both guarded and curious “Hallo miss Becky. Your sourdough is very tasty. What are those pale lumps of matter you were squishing when we came in?”

She gave him a quick side hug before taking a half-step back “That’s called a dough… Olivar, is it?” Miss Becky gives a quick explanation as to what dough is, and the process of turning dough into bread, a slight blush appearing on her face as she finished with a quiet “Ah… My apologies. You probably didn’t want that much information about such things…”

Pallius looked genuinely fascinated, and Olivar had drifted over to one of the lumps of dough, a focused expression on his face.

“Please don’t say that! I was finding your lecture to be both interesting and quite informative! We weren’t taught how to make food like this - basic foraging, yes. But nothing so technical.” Pallius answered, blue-brown eyes shining with fascination. 

“So you just.. Squish the bread? Und it makes it stronger and tastier?” Olivar clarified, looking very much like he was seconds away from poking one of the lumps of dough sitting out on the counter with a finger.

“If you want to help knead the dough, you must first wash your hands und ask.” Roland drawled, walking over and lightly nudging Olivar over to the sink “Would you mind if the ducklings helped us for a little while?”

“Not in the least! Their help would be quite timely, given the massive line of people we have out of the door, and the dough that requires kneading.” Miss Becky answers with a sigh “If you three are willing to help, of course. If you don’t want to, I won’t insist.”

“But we want to help.” Cedric, Pallius and Olivar answered at the same time, turning to peer hopefully down at the mortal baker. 

Cedric paused for a moment before saying “I can show them how to use not too much of their strength, and cause the dough to tear - und how to mold it into two pieces, if it does accidentally tear.”

Miss Becky beamed and nodded “Thanks, Cedric! You’re a lifesaver. Now I’ve got to get these croissants in the oven.” One of the timers went off, startling Olivar and Pallius with the loudness.

Roland went over to the oven and pulled out several very hot loaves of bread, setting them carefully on the cooling rack “I will help with that, mein schatz.” 

Cedric gestured for Pallius and Olviar to join him at the sink, showing them how to properly wash their hands in order to get ready for kneading the dough. He showed them the proper technique, letting them get a feel for the strength required for the repetitive task, and what they were looking for, for when the bread was ready to be baked.

Both Olivar and Pallius listened and watched carefully, doing their best to mimic what he was doing.

Miss Becky had been kind enough to give them a loaf of freshly cooled banana bread for the three of them to share, after the couple of hours they had spent kneading loaf after loaf of bread into being ready to be cooked, cooled and sold. 

Cedric had texted Arnault as the three of them were leaving the bakery on the communication device he’d been given [We are on our way. Do I need to to give you some more time?]

Cedric was well aware of the fact that Arnault loved his bonded very much, and enjoyed flirting with and touching her whenever he could get away with it. Sometimes that would escalate and Arnault would steal away his bonded to kiss and do… Things with her that the young Apothecary had only heard of in theory and did not want to think about in depth in conjunction with his honored elder brother, thank you very much. Also Arnault had asked him to text before hand for those kinds of reasons.

[Mein Engel and I are ready for guests. She is finishing up a project for a client, und I am helping her by holding up the last part of what needs sewing together. The front door is unlocked, just knock before coming in.] Arnault answered promptly.

Cedric nodded to himself on instinct as he sent back [Understood. We should be there in twenty minutes or so.]

~

Cedric led Olivar and Pallius to Arnault’s and Angela’s home, pausing at the front door, realizing that both of them were standing and staring at the house from the sidewalk. He sighed silently and walked back over to his brothers, voice gentle and coaxing “We’re nearly there. He’s a wonderful big brother, I promise.”

“He… He’s an Emperor’s Champion… Well, will be, from his standpoint. Are… Are we worthy to be in his presence?” Pallius asked, uncertainty causing his voice to shake a little.

Olivar shuffled alongside Pallius, unwilling to voice his own concerns, but nodding along to what Pallius said.

Cedric took in a deep breath and gently held one of Olivar’s and Pallius’ hands, squeezing gently, and answered “We are worthy. Each of us is as valuable as a firstborn brother of our rank and standing. He’s looking forward to meeting you, as is his bonded. I wouldn’t ask you to meet someone who I don’t trust while you’re still healing.”

“... Okay. Let’s do this, then.” Olivar answered, a determined expression appearing on his face as he took in a deep breath and did his best to center himself.

Pallius nodded, taking a couple of moments to center himself as well before saying “Okay… I’m ready. Let’s… Let’s go meet them, then.”

Cedric nodded, smiling encouragingly at his brothers as he led them over to the front door, knocking and then entering as he’d been asked. He informed the other two “It’s considered rude to walk around in their home walking in the shoes that we were walking around outside in. Outside shoes go in this bin over here, and there are guest slippers here, unless you want to walk around barefoot, or in your socks, both of which are acceptable as well.” he took off his own shoes and put them away properly, content to meander about the house in his socks.

Pallius and Olivar obediently took off their shoes and placed them in the correct bin. Neither elected to take a pair of the astartes-sized guest slippers and Olivar also took off his socks, pairing them and placing them in his shoes, so that they wouldn’t get lost. 

Cedric called out “We’re here!” loud enough so that his voice would carry throughout the house, while also not being too loud so as to accidentally cause alarm.

“Come on in!” Miss Angela called out, closer than he’d anticipated her voice to sound “Arnault and I are in the living room, finishing up a project. Please don’t step on the fabric, when you come into the room.”

“Yes ma’am.” Cedric responded, smiling a little as he carefully led his brothers into the living room, carefully picking his way over to where she was sitting and sewing - Arnault carefully holding onto the fabric she was stitching together in order to help keep it steady. “This is Pallius - he’s the one with the slightly darker eyes and hair - and this is Olivar. He’s shorter and -”

“I am less than five inches shorter than the both of you!” Olivar sulked, sending a grumpy pout Cedric’s way “I am well within standard parameters. The fact that I am more compact only means that I can move in more cramped areas better than you two.”

“- grumpy.” Cedric finished with a teasing grin on his face.

“I’d offer you boys some tea, but I’m a little busy at the moment, and so is Arni.” Angela responded, looking up from her work and looking at the three of them. “Goodness! Look how lovely you all are. And there’s no shame in being shorter than others, Olivar. Don’t let the talls bully you! You’re wonderful just the way you are.”

Olivar - who had started to wind up at Cedric’s gentle teasing - deflated a little, blinking in utter shock and mild surprise, struck silent by her words.

Pallius blinked twice and took a half-step forward to cover his Brother’s shock “I’m sure Vie will thank you for your words once he finds his tongue again. None of us have much experience interacting with baselines, and Olivar is not great at making first impressions.”

“Hey! I am… Adequate at socialization!” Olivar pouted, content to be half-hidden behind his larger brothers. He was trying not to be overwhelmed and mostly succeeding. 

“Ja, of course you are, Vie.” Cedric hummed, gently patting his grumpy brother a little, trying to suppress the grin that threatened to appear on his face. “I could start the electric kettle, if you wanted?” He offered.

“That would be lovely, thank you Cedric. It’s in it’s usual spot in the kitchen.” Miss Angela answered with a smile. She then looked to Olivar and Pallius “Please, come sit down, there are a couple of chairs not buried under fabric you can use.”

“Yes ma’am.” Pallius murmured, carefully moving so as to not disturb the fabric in the room.

Olivar fidgeted a little. One of his legs was still on the mend and he had a slim cast that fit under the clothes he was wearing. He wasn’t sure if he had the dexterity to make it across the room without stumbling over the fabric and didn’t want to get into trouble, so he stayed at the entrance of the room. He did lean against the door frame on his good leg. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll stay here.”

“If you’re sure… There are a couple of chairs free…” Miss Angela pointed out.

“I don’t mind standing, ma’am.” Olivar answered, which was a partial truth.

Arnault hummed a little “There is a sturdy enough folding chair in the closet in the hallway you walked through. Sit, lad. I can smell the pain you’re in from your broken leg.”

Angela gasped a little, a worried frown on her face “You walked all the way here on a broken leg without crutches? Honey, do we have any astartes-grade painkiller? You must be so sore, you poor dear. Hang on, let me move some of this fabric out of the way, so you can sit properly.”

“I… Uhm. I’ll be fine, ma’am. I don’t want to interrupt your work.” Olivar deflected awkwardly.

“Nonsense! It’s easier if the quilt is all laid out like this, but it isn’t strictly necessary. Arni, love, help me move things?” Angela tutted, shaking her head a little.

Arnault nodded, knowing how and where to move the fabric to, before giving Olivar a quick once over and a quiet order “Come here and sit down, Olivar.” He made sure that his voice was gentle, but firm, to brook no argument from foolish apprentices. 

“Yes sir.” Olivar responds, obediently reacting to the tone of command, doing his best to move as carefully as he could manage, sitting down on the far edge of the couch. Some of the pain leaving him, as he was able to get his weight off of his injured leg. “What is it that you are making?” Olivar asked, curiously as he looked at the fabric around him. It looked to be deliberately and expertly stitched together, some of it dyed different colors in a lovely pattern.

Miss Angela grinned as she briefly looked to Arnault before answering “I am making a weighted quilt. I recently finished making one, and this one should be finished by the end of the month. What do you two think of this one?”

Pallius answered first and earnestly “I think your client is very lucky to receive this uilt. I can tell this is expertly made, and the quality is so much better than the thin blankets we were allotted aboard The Sigismund.”

Olivar nodded in agreement “I can’t imagine the time and effect that you put into making this. It is a beautiful piece of art, ma’am.”

Miss Angela seemed to lose the ability to speak for several seconds, blinking rapidly before setting down the needle and finely spun thread and reached out to gently cup one of Olivar’s cheeks “That is such a sweet thing to say, both of you, thank you.”

“Yeah… Cedric’s so lucky to have one of these…” Pallius sighed “It was so comfortable to snuggle together, during the thunderstorm yesterday. Olivar and I were still pretty out of it and…”

“The thunder reminded us of artillery fire in the worst ways. Bad memories and heavy pain killers are an awful combination.” Olivar grumbled, pouting a little though he leaned into her gentle touch, trying to blink back treacherous tears that threatened to fall. He’d never been touched this gently by someone who wasn’t a Brother or a Cousin before and he had no idea how to react. He had no idea how much a quilt like the one Cedric had cost, but he planned on getting money and the supplies necessary to create such a thing and ask Miss Angela to make one for him. Cedric would probably know what to get and how much it cost. Ramiel too, as both of them had those wonderful quilts. He planned on asking for one for Pallius first, as a surprise gift for his only surviving squadmate. 

Cedric came back into the room with one mortal sized mug and four astartes sized mugs in his hands, along with several bright orange fruits that smelled sweet. “I’ve got drinks and a snack for everyone.” He passed both the fruits and the mugs around,c careful to avoid stepping on the fabric. 

Pallius curiously inspected the orange fruit that he’d been given. It had bright, smooth skin and smelled faintly sweet and floral. He didn’t recognize it at all “What is this?” He asked curiously as he brought the fruit up to his lips and carefully took a small bite.

“These are persimmons. They should taste sweet and have a slight drying effect on the tongue.” Arnault explained, an amused smirk appearing on the older Black Templar’s face as he took a bite of the fruit.

Olivar was put off by the slightly grainy texture of the flesh of the fruit, and the flavor was odd to him as well. But everyone else seemed to be enjoying their fruit and he wasn’t one to turn down food when it was offered to him freely, so he quickly ate the rest of the persimmon, washing down the taste and texture with the tannic-tasting tea. It was amazing to learn just how much variety of foods there was on ancient and holy Terra… And overwhelming to the young Astartes, who was used to the carefully created and bland tasting nutrient pastes, ration bars and similar such food-stuffs that were made to sustain the Adeptus Astartes. 

“Is the persimmon not to your liking, Olivar?” Miss angela asked, sounding concerned.

Olivar blanked in surprise. He’d tried to keep his mild distaste for the strange fruit from being obvious. “It’s… Very different from what I’m used to, ma’am. But I did finish it.” Olivar answered, resisting the temptation to fidget with the mug in his hands. 

“Persimmons can be an acquired taste. I was given these by a neighbor who has a persimmon tree that is fruiting heavily this year. I’ve also seen the start of the Zucchini Shenanigans season earlier this week.” Angela hummed, smiling a little.

“I will be on guard, to ensure that we are not ambushed by too many squash. THey are tasty, but too many at once to eat before they spoil is… Vexing.” Arnault rumbled shaking his head a little.

Pallius silently wondered what the two of them were referring to. He looked to Olivar silently, who shrugged, equally confused before they both silently looked to Cedric, in hopes that he would offer them some kind of explanation.

“Free, fresh vegetables are always welcome at the base, should you be gifted with more zucchini than you can eat before it goes bad.” The young apothecary offered “Also miss Becky recently taught me how to make zucchini bread, which I find to be quite tasty, though on the sweet side.”

“Was that the soft brown bread with the spices you fed us earlier this week?” Olivar asked curiously, eyes widening in recognition. “You made like… Ten loaves of the stuff and we had to hide them from nosy firstborn brothers while they cooled, so that they could be used in trade.”

“Those were indeed Zucchini bread.” Cedric confirmed with a small grin.

“What did you end up trading that Zucchini bread for, anyways?” Pallius asked curiously, head tilting a little at his apothecary Brother “You mentioned that you’d made them specifically to be used in trade, which is why we hid them from hungry Older Brothers.”

Cedric’s eyes shone brightly with a playful kind of mischief “Something that I wanted and knew I could get with the proper application of sweet tasting breads.”

“I suppose that’s Cedric for “I’m not gonna tell you” then?” Olivar grumbled, pouting a little “Is there a particular reason you won’t tell us? Or are you practicing Secret Keeping?”

Cedric chuckled, his eyes still shining brightly with playful mischief “I’m not telling~! If you need to find out, you will in time.”

“Fine.” Pallius sighed, pouting a little that Cedric wouldn’t tell them but not willing to try and push the issue… At least not in front of the firstborn and his bonded. 

“... Why would you need to practice keeping secrets?” Miss Angela asked curiously, as she had finished eating her persimmon and had gone back to stitching the quilt together.

All three young Astartes looked at one another uncertainly before looking to Brother Arnault. They weren’t quite sure what parts of astartes training they were allowed to speak of, and what was to be kept silent on. 

Arnault chuckled “Basic astartes training leaves many young ones to be quite blunt und direct with their words and methods of speaking. Some missions require a degree of… Hrm. Subtlety and discretion, so we have the young ones practice how to Keep Secrets with low-stakes items and information that they are told to hide for a certain length of time, so that they know how to do so when it matters.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose that makes sense…” Angela hummed, nodding a little. “How long have you two been on Earth?”

“... I’m not sure, ma’am. But not longer than a month or two at most? I was brought to the base pretty badly injured because of… Uhm. Reasons, and I’ve been in recovery after they stitched my wounds closed, ma’am.” Pallius answered, shifting a little “This is the first time I’ve left the base since arriving, actually.”

Olivar nodded “I think I've been here for about three weeks at most? Maybe a month, by the way you figure the days and nights.” It was by unspoken agreement that they were not going to explain precisely how and why they had acquire their grievous wounds - the firstborns had assumed that they’d been nearly killed by Chaos Astartes from the kinds of weapons their wounds had been inflicted by… Which while untrue, was close enough to the truth to be functional. “From what little I have seen of Ter-err Earth, it’s a beautiful world.”

“It can be a beautiful place to live… Though I can’t help but wonder what it’s like to wander the stars, as Arni has occasionally told me he’s done. What’s it like to explore other worlds?” Angela asked, a soft sigh leaving her.

The three Primaris marines glanced at each other before looking to Arnault, unsure how to answer her question, each shifting uncomfortably. While it was possible that some of the many worlds that they had visited during their tenure as Astartes had once been beautiful, most of that beauty had been blasted and perverted into misery and suffering by the enemy they had been sent to fight. 

“We’re not supposed to talk about what we did before we came to Earth, my love.” Arnault reminded her, voice gentle as he gave his Angela a kiss on the lips that caused all three of his baby brothers to fluster and turn away, to give them a bit of privacy, their ears burning bright red. 

Angela kissed him back, a soft hum in her voice “Very well then, I won’t ask more about it. I wouldn’t want to get any of you into trouble for prying into your mysterious pasts.” 

Cedric’s phone chimed, as a reminder went off. He looked at the notification and sighed “Vie, Palli, we need to get going back to base soon, or they’ll start sending out search parties for us and we’ll be grounded for wandering around too long without a check-in.”

Olivar grumbled “Can’t we check in via vox?”

Cedric shook his head “No, we need to check-in in-person, because you and Pallius are injured.”

Pallius sighed and nodded “Very well then. I suppose it makes sense…” He got up and saluted Arnault and Miss Angela on instinct “Thank you for your time, tea and the fruit.” He started to carefully make his way across the floor. 

Olivar also got up and saluted the two of them, hiding the pained wince as his weight was partially on his broken leg once again “Thank you sir, ma’am.” and hobbled out of the room as gracefully as he could manage.

“Alright, you boys stay safe, alright?” Miss Angela answered with a small smile and a nod, leaning a little into Brother Arnault as she spoke.

“Heal well, und try not to get into too much mischief. At least not without me or Roland present.” The Emperor’s Champion hummed, a small smile on his face as he held his Bonded lovingly. 

“Yes sir! We’ll try to stay out of trouble, sir!” Cedric chirped for his brothers, stepping so that he was helping Olivar and Pallius move without it being abundantly obvious. 

Arnault snorted a little “Uh-huh. No fist fighting Chaos Cowards out of armor, Cedric.” 

Cedric pouted a little as Olivar and Pallius looked at him curiously “That was one time, big bruder!”

“Ah-huh.” Arnault answered, still smirking a little as the three apprentices made their way out of his and his beloved’s home.

Cedric helped Pallius and Olivar get back to base, making sure to insist that they sit on  benches that were occasionally near the sidewalk, so that they could give their still-healing bodies a break. He also dutifully recounted his encounter with the Slaaneshi Bastard and his reasoning behind tackling the fucker and duct-taping empty glass jars to his poison-dripping fingertips.

[kryptonianheroao3]

Assassins Creed AU where Wednesday is a newly initiated Assassin, daughter of Master Assassins Morticia and Gomez Addams, and Enid Sinclair is the youngest child of the wealthy Templar Sinclair family during the American Revolution.

The American Brotherhood choose to act against the Sinclairs as they begin to amass power in the newly forming American government so they go to Assassinate the Sinclairs in their manor and Wednesday is one of the Assassins chosen for the mission.

They’re swiftly going through the manor, killing any Sinclairs and security they find. Morticia and Gomez are personally dealing with the heads of the Sinclair family when Wednesday comes across a terrified Enid holding a clearly too heavy mace in her bedroom, having heard everything that’s happened.

Wednesday knows she must kill Enid, it’s her orders, but she finds herself hesitating. Enid is clearly the same age as her and she looks terrified and untrained, unlike her siblings that have been executed in their sleep. When Enid asks if her parents are dead, Wednesday tells her ‘they will be shortly’ and is surprised to see that Enid doesn’t react to the news. She just drops the mace and tells Wednesday to do what she must.

So Wednesday does. She takes Enid away from the manor and to a nearby Brotherhood safe house. She tells her superiors that the girl is dead and she disposed of the body. She regularly checks in on the girl and teaches her to fight the way of the Creed.

She finds herself falling for the daughter of the family she helped kill, and Enid finds herself falling for the daughter of the two Assassins that murdered her parents.

And a few years later, if Morticia and Gomez know that Wednesday’s new recruit is the youngest of the Sinclair family, they don’t say anything.