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danny-chase · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! May I request the pneumonia square on your bthb card for Dick with Bruce taking care of him?

Thanks for the request!

Pneumonia - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: bruce wayne centric, Dick grayson centric, Sickfic, Pneumonia, Blood, Stitches, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Sick/hurt Dick Grayson, mentions past passive suicidal attempt, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, what a surprise they hug each other Series: Part 9 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Bruce hasn't been sure where he stands in sons' lives after returning from the timestream, but a case of pneumonia provides an excuse to sort some things out.

Full story under cut

Bruce only meant to drop by briefly, hand off some papers, and be on his way. He wasn’t exactly sure what made him pause in front of the display case.

Well. That wasn’t exactly true. He did know. How could he not know by the way his eyes gravitated towards the hood on the back of the Robin suit’s cape. By the way his heart sank at the sight of it.

He still thought it unnecessary – a distraction in the fight – it could easily obscure vision. He would have never allowed his partners to wear one.

And that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Damian wasn’t his partner, the hood a visual reminder. Dick knew Damian’s abilities better than anyone, knew whether or not the hood was appropriate. He trusted Dick’s judgment – no – had to rely on it when it came to his youngest.

He’d considered stepping in at first, but it made sense to keep Dick and Damian as partners – they worked well together, provided results. Damian rarely got along with anyone else… and that was changing under Dick’s mentorship. Gotham was doing well, crime rates were dropping, and public approval had risen significantly. By all accounts, Batman and Robin were doing an excellent job.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, at wearing the mantle you created.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, in being loved by your youngest. To have missed out on so much, to have been dead a year and come back with things running (mostly) smoothly, as if the world hadn’t really needed him anyways. He couldn’t quite tell if it was humbling or humiliating when he heard whispers from officers of the new Batman being better than the old one.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was-

The walls of the bunker shook slightly, the floor trembling beneath his feet as the roar of an engine reverberated through the entrance tunnel. Swept out of his thoughts, he swiftly placed the stack of documents by the main computer and doubled back to his car.

He didn’t plan on being here long, wasn’t keen on talking – he had the computer back at the manor running narrowing down possible combinations for one of Riddler’s games – he’d already lingered much to long.

With that thought, he opened the door his of car, giving a brief nod of acknowledgement as Dick entered on his bike. Dick didn’t wave back – he always waved when he saw him – unless something was wrong – or maybe he hadn’t seen him – that was the logical answer –

But Bruce still found himself frozen in place, his pulse increasing, heart leaping into his throat as Dick got closer, his mind scrutinizing every detail he could see – the way Dick was hunched over too much – his posture was normally perfect, his left arm was wrapped around his middle – Bruce slammed his car door shut, jogging forward as Dick parked.

“What’s wrong?” He reached up, pulling off the damn cowl, revealing tired watery, reddish eyes. Dick blinked, frowning, his eyes adjusting to the light.

“Nothing.” He pulled back, refusing Bruce’s arm, dismounting the bike himself. The cape obscured whatever Dick was putting pressure on. Dick strode forward, his shoulder squared as he started up the stairs. He felt oddly small looking up at the stark silhouette – and he had to wonder – was this how his kids felt when staring up at his back?

And then Dick succumbed to a nasty coughing fit halfway up the stairs. Bruce bolted up beside him, offering an arm again, swiftly finding blood trickling from a deep gash on his side. Instinctively he tore off a piece of his shirt, pressing it to the wound. Dick looked at him judgmentally, speaking through coughs.

“If you – waited like -” He doubled over again, pausing their trip up the stairs. He put up a hand, as Bruce moved in to simply carry him up the rest of the way. “- m’ fine.” Dick sucked in a shallow breath and they continued on. “ – didn’t have to ruin your shirt. We have gauze.” He mumbled as they reached the top.

Bruce looked down at his shirt, then back at Dick, feeling like a dumbass, but nonetheless glad he hadn’t left him behind. “You would have fallen down the stairs.” He noted, before moving onto the more pressing matter. “Were you gassed? Poisoned? Dick, repo-”

“I’m-” Dick cut him off, only for Damian to drop from the rafters, dramatically landing a few feet away.

“He’s been ill.” He crossed his arms in annoyance, pouting in his pajama pants, wearing an oversized shirt he’d sworn he’d gotten for Dick years ago. “And insisted on benching me even though I am perfectly capable of-”

“Damian, you’re supposed to be in-” Dick stumbled over his own feet – another alarm going off in his mind – Dick was normally graceful. Bruce was tired of this – he made eye contact with Damian, nodding towards their medical closet.

“Grab gauze and a suturing kit.” He commanded, Damian scurrying off ahead. He slipped his free hand beneath Dick’s knees, scooping him up – rushing him the rest of the way to the table as Dick succumbed to a hacking fit. Memories from years ago bubbled in the back of his mind, from a time Dick was smaller, in a brightly colored costume, fading quickly in his arms after a run in with Harvey Dent.

He couldn’t call for Alfred this time. He was halfway across the world assisting Kate, spending well deserved time with his daughter.

Biting back the panic, he did his best to gently set him down, but Dick was heavier than he used to be, and he was a bit older himself. Bruce cringed as Dick hit the table with a bit of a thud – though it seemed Dick hardly noticed – but Damian hissed in disapproval.

“Sorry.” Dick murmured, once he caught his breath, sounding far away – as if standing on the other end of a tunnel. Bruce couldn’t tell if he was spacing out, or if Dick was simply quiet, either way, he ignored the interruption, holding out a hand.

Damian materialized beside him placing the kit in his hands before pressing clean gauze to Dick’s. Bruce yanked off the costume in tandem. Neither spoke as they worked like a well-oiled machine, Bruce sewing up the wound as Damian kept Dick still. He could fix this – it wasn’t like before – the cut wasn’t too bad, he had the skills – he just needed to focus.

Bruce fought to keep his hands steady, as he tied off the end. Dick stared aimlessly at the ceiling, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, rolling down the side of his face and dripping in his eyes. Damian kept him propped upright, from atop the other side of the table.

Dick paused to cough for a moment, Damian pounding his back with furious eyes, as if he was attacking the congestion himself. “Don’t tear the stiches.” Bruce chided, Damian glared, but lightened his taps. Bruce held Dick by the shoulders until he was ready to continue.

Moments later, the bandage was applied, and Bruce scanned for more injuries.

“That was it, I’m fine.” Dick muttered, though Bruce couldn’t tear his eyes away – he could feel the blood on his hands – drying at the edges, slimy under his latex gloves. Dick was too pale, too warm to the touch, too- “Quit looking at me like I died.” He grumbled exasperatedly, his voice painfully horse. The tone snapped Bruce out of his inspection. “I’m fine.”

He turned to Damian – because at least one of his kids was being honest. “How long has he been sick?” He turned, grabbing a thermometer off a shelf.

“Since last Monday.” He replied, critically scanning Dick as well, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Dick scoffed at the remark, looking offended. “Liar, that was just allergies.” He reached up, moving to ruffle Damian’s hair – unsuccessful, Damian easily dodging the attempt.

“Obviously, it was more than just allergies, seeing as you’re still under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Likely something viral, the flu perhaps?”

Bruce gave Dick a pointed look, cocking an eyebrow. “You know better than to go out while sick.” That’s how people get killed, how Dick could have gotten killed, how he would have been left to bleed out on the floor if he hadn’t been there, how –

“I thought I’d turned the corner.” Dick’s tone was cool, but his eyes were laser focused on him – he had this way of looking at people, as if he was staring into your soul. “I felt fine when I left.”

“He was doing better earlier.” Damian begrudgingly mentioned, taking some small amount of pity on his brother. He gazed up quizzically, matching Dick’s expression. Bruce shifted his gaze between the two sets of searching eyes.

A moment passed in silence. The weight in his hand finally reminding him of his purpose, he stuck the ear thermometer in Dick’s ear.

“I can do the rest myself.” Dick noted, placing a hand atop the thermometer as well – which Bruce subsequently ignored.

“Mmm.” He noted, checking the temperature. “Almost hundred and three. And you felt fine enough to go out?” He asked, dropping notes of disbelief into his voice. Dick gazed back at him, unamused.

“I meant what I said. It was only supposed be a stakeout anyways.” Irritation was clear, despite his scratchy tone. Damian hoped off the table behind him. “You’ve gone out way worse than this!” Dick broke into raspy coughs, Bruce catching his shoulders.

“I’m going to prepare tea.” Damian muttered, dashing up the stairs, leaving him alone with the sound of Dick’s wheezing.

“Any other symptoms?” Bruce grabbed a stethoscope, snapping a pulse oximeter to Dick’s index finger. “Be honest.” He reminded, Dick avoiding his gaze.

“Bruce, you don’t seriously think I would have gone out if-”

“I know you know your limits.” He acknowledged. He also knew his family (and occasionally himself) liked pretending the limits weren’t there. He slipped the stethoscope against Dick’s chest, listening to his lungs. “Breath in.” Something crackled deep in his lungs. “Chest x-ray.” Bruce noted.

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” If Bruce closed his eyes, he could pretend it was 9-year-old Dick, complaining about having to be swabbed for strep throat.

“If I’m right, no.” Dick unhappily mimicked his voice. Bruce cocked an eyebrow, giving him an unamused stare. “A list of symptoms would help.”

“I hate it when you’re like this – just tell me what you think.” Dick slid off the table. Bruce caught him by the shoulders, they were burning up. Dick shivered, shaking underneath his hands.

“I think you already know.” He slipped an arm under his son’s shoulders, slowly walking him towards the machine. “Shortness of breath, coughing, wheezing, fever, chills, recently viral illness. Chest pain likely.”

Dick groaned. “It’s just a cold.” Bruce pulled a blanket a nearby shelf, wrapping it around his shoulders. “I’ll be fine with a good night’s sleep. You don’t have to do this; I’ll go to Leslie’s tomorrow.”

“Dick.” He sighed exasperatedly. They could do the x-ray here or drive to the clinic at 2am.

“Don’t, Dick, me. You have stuff to do, thanks for stitching me up but I can handle myself, I thought you were supposed to-”

“Richard.” Dick paused for a moment. Bruce took it as an opportunity to half carry him the rest of the way to the machine. “I’ll take a culture when this is done and send it to Leslie. I don’t mind.”

Dick hesitated before responding. “Fine.”

A few aspirin, couple of tests, and a trip to Leslie’s later, Bruce found himself walking in through the front door of the penthouse, antibiotics in hand. He nearly tripped over Damian’s sneakers, scattered carelessly in the little mud room. Kicking of his own shoes, he moved the little sneakers to the shoe rack, struck for a moment by how small they were.

Making his way into the living room, he found Dick, half asleep on the caramel-colored couch. He clicked off the television, turning off some nature show, Dick’s attention pivoting to him.

“You came back?” He whispered, almost too quiet to hear, but surprise evident all the same – eyes widening, jaw dropping, before he caught himself and returned to a blank expression. Bruce nodded, passing him the medication before settling in a nearby armchair. Two empty mugs sat on the low table, rich aroma still lingering in the air (ginger if his nose was right), though Damian was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes lingered on the mugs – they were handmade, one in the Batman color scheme, the other matching the Robin costume. He’d taken a sculpting class with Dick years ago; they’d made similar ones together. Dick’s was likely in pieces, lost under the rubble of his old apartment, and Tim accidentally knocked his off a table years ago. He tore his eyes away – it made since for Dick to carry on the tradition with his Robin, he just… regretted never making another.

He watched as Dick fumbled with the container, his heart sinking at the uncoordinated attempts to twist off the lid. Bruce swiped it back, popping off the lid, and passing him a pill along with a bottle of water.

The surprise in Dick’s voice weighed on his mind – surely – Dick didn’t expect for him to leave him alone in such a state? Yes – he knew Dick was an adult – knew he could take care of himself – but Alfred wasn’t around if he took a turn for the worse, he couldn’t just leave that for Damian. Worry crept into the pit of his stomach, Alfred had been gone weeks, were there more illnesses Dick hadn’t been reporting? More injuries? Why? Because he didn’t think he would care? He didn’t want to burden Damian? He was too busy to-

“Bruce, quit brooding, I was just surprised you got back so fast.” Dick spoke slowly in carefully low tones, scooting back into a sitting position on the further end of the couch. Curling into a ball, he wrapped the blanket he’d grabbed early tighter, shivering under it. Internally, Bruce cringed at the sight before turning back to his thoughts.

“Hmm.” That wasn’t what Dick said, or why he was surprised. “You didn’t think I was coming back.” It came out more statement than question. Dick coughed lightly, avoiding a response. “I’d like to know why.”

Dick shrugged, too timed to be nonchalant. “You have casework to do.” He wouldn’t meet his gaze, busying himself pulling the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. “I’m an adult. I can handle being sick.”

“I know.” He hummed disbelievingly, his worry growing – Dick had a knack for lying – he really wasn’t feeling well if he was this easy to read. “You know I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t.” Dick warned, cutting him off with a glare. “If Alfred was here, you’d already be gone.” There was an edge of bitterness to his voice, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I…” <em>Haven’t visited in weeks because I feel strange around you and Damian,</em> his mind supplied helpfully.

“I know it hurts to see your…” Dick paused for a moment, catching his breath. “Family like this. Just don’t try to deny it, you disappear every time I get hurt.” <em>Or kick you me out,</em> went unsaid.

Bruce threw an arm over his eyes, taking a moment to lean back against the recliner. For so long, he’d been focused on just getting back to the present, getting back to his kids. But… coming back meant facing up to the times he’d been less than a good father… or older brother… whatever he and Dick had all those years ago.

He took a moment, examining a few memories, his behavior after the Two-Face case, the time Dick was shot in the shoulder, even how he’d acted the first few weeks Dick was at the manor – relentlessly pursuing justice rather than spend time with his ward. It was no secret to most he had regrets. He’d changed since then – never acted like that with Jason. Didn’t disappear after Tim’s father died. He’d changed, but he never –

“I’m sorry.” They stared at each other, speaking in tandem. Bruce’s jaw dropped as Dick continued.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your standards, I know I disappointed you tonight, I shouldn’t have brought the past up, you don’t have to stay-” His words came out hurriedly, rushed and pained.

“Dick.” Bruce hadn’t thought his heart could sink any lower, but somehow, it dropped to the bottom of his gut, his throat closing uncomfortably.

“I’m doing my best, I thought I’d be fine, I just really needed information tonight and I couldn’t go out tomorrow because I need to help Tim, and now I’m going to have to call in Steph, and Barbara’s gonna be upset, and Tim’ll be mad, and it’s Damian’s first week of school, I took him out of homeschool because you wanted him to go to Gotham Academy, but he hates it and he won’t go to bed on time, and I have a board meeting in the morning I’m not prepared for-”

“Richard.” Bruce tried to interrupt, but Dick was rambling, his hands shaking as he pressed one to his forehead, his voice growing frantic. Bruce moved to sit next to the mugs.

“-I know I’m letting you down, you came back to a mess and I’m still trying to get everything settled, and Jason’s still loose god knows where, and I can’t take three steps off this couch without feeling like I’m about to collapse and now I’m taking up your time too for nothing because I’m fine and I can handle this and you should just go back to your case because it’s more important and-”

“Richard John Grayson.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulder, waiting for him to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Dick bit his lip, face flushed. Bruce froze, not sure where to go from here. He had more to say, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. Dick blinked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and for a moment Bruce could pretend he was eight years old again – and just like that, he knew what to do.

Leaning forward, he wrapped Dick in a hug, gently patting his back (hopefully breaking some mucus loose). Alarm bells rang in his mind – Dick was warm – too warm, but he ignored them, just holding his son steady as his ragged breath went smooth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stick around before, I know better now, and I’ll stay this time if you’ll let me.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, releasing Dick back against a stack of pillows. He dropped his elbows to his knees, letting his head drop into his hands. He could fix this.

“You’ve done better than I could have imagined, given the circumstances. Better than I did when I was your age.” He ran Dick’s words through his mind again. “I’ll stay until you’re well. I’ll talk to Tim and Barbara. I’ll figure out where Jason went. I’ll talk to Damian about school, though you might have better luck than me on that one-”

“You’re kidding me he listened to you perfectly earlier.” Dick muttered, tucking his chin between his knees.

“-only because we had a shared goal, and that goal was assisting you.” Bruce continued. “I’ll call Lucius, get him to reduce your hours. I-we can fix this. Just…” his voice caught in his throat. “Get well soon.” Dick, well he was right, it was painful to see him so worn out. It seemed… unnatural, seeing him sick, though he’d seen him ill plenty of times before.

Dick glanced at him, then dropped his gaze, fidgeting with the corner of a little throw blanket. “I’m being pathetic. Bruce. I’m sorry, I can handle this.” He looked back up, determination swimming in his bleary blue eyes. “You don’t need to stay.”

Bruce sighed exasperatedly. “I know. Do you remember the time I got mono? Back when you were a kid?” Dick thought for a moment before nodding.

“Alfred wouldn’t let you leave your room. We played Uno.” He noted.

“And Go-Fish, checkers, chess, and every other game we own. And Clark and Lucius covered for me for two months. And I hated staying put but playing games with you made time fly.” He leaned forward, slipping an arm around Dick, pulling him up again, and heading towards his room. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I would have cut the recovery time in half if I didn’t escape out the window two weeks in. Dick… you aren’t letting me down if you let me cover for you, consider it payback.”

Dick gasped dramatically, only to let out a few weak coughs. “You didn’t! …Actually, I already knew. Alfred and I picked you up after you got your ass kicked, remember?” He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid to go out sick, I saw you do it and I hated it I wouldn’t do that to Damian or you.” He paused, leaving them in uncomfortable silence. “Uh. No offense. Just… you believe me, right? I wouldn’t have gone out if I thought I wouldn’t come back.”

Bruce paused, giving Dick a long look. Memories of Superman’s panicked call coming over his comms, Dick rushing into nuclear wastelands without protection. They’d come a long way since then, Dick had come a long way in the year he’d been gone. “I believe you.”

Dick let out a long breath as they turned into his bedroom. “Okay.” Bruce propped pillows as Dick faceplanted into bed.

“Sleep well.” He murmured, throwing the comforter over him. Dick turned, shooting him a half smile, not making any moves towards the nice stack of pillows. He clicked on a humidifier on his way towards the door, shutting off the lights as he left. “I’m proud of you.”

As he closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, he heard a tired voice whisper “Thanks.”

#bad things happen bingo #batman #batfam #batman and robin #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #my writing

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years ago

Text

ON THE EDGE ~ Pt. 5

Characters: Gavin Reed x fem!Reader; Connor; Hank Anderson;

Warnings: cursing

Words: 2.339

Back in the office, yn headed for the locker room to change some of her clothes and to get rid of the makeup. As she walked over to her desk, a cup of hot coffee and Gavin were already waiting. He handed her the liquid. She was freezing to death but it was worth it. She was able to place the bug as planned. Yn took the cup with a soft smile, “Thanks. That’s what I need right now.”

“You got rid of the makeup already? Too bad...”, Gavin said grinning.

Over the rim of the cup, she looked challenging at him, “Yeah, otherwise, I have to fear you will arrest me for prostitution. And I’m not sure if you really want to see me in handcuffs.”, she whispered with a grin and winked.

Gavin’s heart skipped a beat and he coughed slightly by the picture he got in his mind because of her comment. Yn noticed what kind of reaction her joke had on him but before she could ask, Hank and Connor joined them with a tablet. It was the device for the bug. Gavin stepped back and breathed several times to calm himself while the others sat around the desk.

“Turn it on. Maybe we will already hear something. I hope this thing works as well as the heavy's promised.”, yn said and laid her feet on top of her desk like Gavin used to do all the time.

Connor looked confused, “Heavy's?”

“Our hardware guys.”, Yn explained with a wink. Then JoJo started to talk and all four cops were listening intently.

“Hey Scott.”

“Hey Joker, why are you smiling like an idiot?”, Scott asked. The sound quality was excellent and so, they could differentiate the two men easily.

“Man, I met a girl in the park.”, JoJo said with excitement in his voice.

“Again?”, Scott asked, not impressed at all. It was the fifth time Joker had met a girl … this week.

“This time it's different.”

Yn felt Gavin's sullen expression glued at her. Obviously, she had done her job better than he wanted.

JoJo continued with his infatuation, “She was so incredibly beautiful. You know, like a divine angel with bright eyes and dressed in a blood red tank top. You should have seen her...you know.”, in the way he said it, everyone (except Connor) knew that he was talking about her breasts.

Yn snickered and looked up with a proud grin. She looked at Gavin then down at her top, which was still the blood red tank top, and then back at Gavin. She smirked. Gavin wasn't amused at all. He pressed his jaws together and looked at her with a dark expression. Hank had to bite back a grin as he watched the Detective. Something bothered him and Hank had an idea what it could be.

“And? Will you see her again?”, Scott asked, catching their attention again.

“Of course! She gave me her number.“, JoJo said proudly.

Gavin slammed his hands on his desk and jumped from his seat, “You gave him your number? Are you crazy?”, he called out.

Yn leant back in her chair and grinned. It amused her that he still saw her as a newbie, at least, she thought it was that, “No. Of course not.”, she said calmly.

“Good.”, Gavin said pleased and sat down.

“I gave him the number of your ex. I thought they would be cute together.”, yn said after a moment and smirked devilishly.

Slowly, Gavin looked up, his knuckles turning white again, “You did- what?”

But instead of answering, yn silenced him with her hand. She became serious and looked at the small device, listening to JoJo’s and Scott’s conversation.

“Yeah, yeah...tonight. In the warehouse down at the docks. Like always at eight?”, JoJo asked.

“Eight, right. Be on point this time. You know how much our boss hates to wait.”, Scott admitted.

“Hell yes! We got it!”, Yn called out. She looked at Hank as the oldest in charge, “Observation?”

Hank nodded, “Would be the best idea.”

“I could do that. I won't get tired.”, Connor suggested.

“Perfect! And I accompany you.”, Yn said.

Gavin looked from yn to Connor and back at yn. Everything happened a bit too fast, “What? Why?”

Hank stood up and nudged Connor to follow him, “We go to Fowler and inform him about the newest information.”, he said to yn and Gavin who didn't listen at all. Gavin was just staring at yn.

“What is your problem, Reed?”, she asked, slowly getting annoyed by his behavior all the time.

“You get yourself into danger! That's my problem!”, he argued coldly.

Yn huffed out, looking doubtful with one raised brow, “Danger? An observation? A snail race would be more dangerous than an observation because of all the slime. What shall happen? That I die out of boredom? I also have the handsome Terminator by my side.”, she pointed out, mentioning one of her favorite movie characters.

Gavin gritted his teeth. Looking away because of this comment and the memory of the dream he had of yn and Connor.

Yn saw that Gavin was on the edge… again. Once again, she had the feeling it had something to do with her but Gavin wasn’t much of a talker and liked to keep things for himself no matter how much she would push him, “Gavin, listen. Connor and I are going on this observation. You and Hank get the information in real time and you can plan the operation.”, she said and waited for him to look at her, “The operation I won't attend.”

“What?”

“I will be there to support you. But I will stay away from any line of fire. Therefore, you don't have to worry about me. Okay?”, yn said with a soft smile.

Gavin squinted his eyes and looked suspicious at her. He knew there had to be a twist somewhere. Yn usually never skipped action when it got offered, “What's the catch?”

“Well, I realized if I push you more, this vein on your neck could explode. And I want to prevent that. I still kinda like you, grumpy cat.”, she said with a wink and stood up to get new coffee for herself and Gavin.

Later, Connor picked yn up from her home. She had changed into comfortable clothes. To sit in a car, maybe for several hours, didn't demand fancy clothes. So, dressed in jeans and a big, cozy, black pullover she had snatched from Gavin once and prepared with coffee and a bunch of snacks, she entered the black car Connor had gotten from Hank. It would be less striking because it was an older model and looked more suitable for a drug scene.

They drove through Detroit to reach the docks. Soft rock music was playing on the radio but Connor wanted to level up his smalltalk skills. He knew yn would be the right person to train this so he asked: “You really wanna go on observation? I always thought humans wouldn’t like that?”

Yn chuckled, “Yeah, that’s true. For us cops it feels like doing nothing. Even if we do something but … observations aren’t liked by everyone.”

“Like Reed?”

"Yeah, but also Hank. Oh, speaking of, how's working with him?", yn asked interested. She saw a smile appear on the android's lips which let him look more boyish… even more handsome.

"It's improving. I mean, we had a rough start with the deviant case and the revolution but… we grow as a team.", Connor answered honestly. Through the darkness, he saw her staring at him. It wasn’t unpleasant … quite the opposite.

"I like to hear that. Hank is… well, since Cole died, he was too alone. It's good that you can change that.", the remembrance of Hank’s loss was still hurtful for her. She couldn’t imagine what Hank felt but to have a new partner by his side like Connor would help the old man to get back on track.

"Can I ask you something, yn?", Connor asked softly.

"Shoot it."

"How's working with Detective Reed?"

"With Gavin?", yn asked surprised. She has expected many questions but not this one, "Uhm… good as always. Why do you ask?"

Connor searched for the right words, "He's… We had some troubles as I came to the DPD. But you seem to be able to talk back to him without him getting aggressive and stuff."

Yn chuckled, "Oh, he gets aggressive but he knows I would defend myself no matter what he would try. We had been there at this point once. But...I see what you mean. Gavin can be a… how shall I say it-"

"An asshole?", Connor tried to help her find the right answer.

The android’s directness, caused her to laugh, "Yeah, absolutely. But no, I meant something like 'challenging'. Look, he's not a bad guy-"

"I got a different impression.", Connor said dryly.

"I'm not sure what happened between the two of you but... whatever it was, that you're an android is not helpful."

"Oh trust me, I already learnt that he hates androids."

"Yeah, but there's a reason. I don't want to apologize for his behavior but his mother was one of the people who lost their jobs because of androids a few years ago. He was a teenager as his mother got replaced. He had a rough time and he had to fight for a lot of things. Obviously, you, as an investigator, triggered his aggression once again."

Connor raised his brows as he made a connection between the different information, "You mean he thought I could replace you?"

"Me?", yn asked surprised.

"Hank told me that you got injured in your last case with Reed."

"Oh, yeah…”, yn nodded. Her injuries, that she couldn’t work for some time and the fact that an android investigator had appeared in the DPD at the same time might have had some effect on Gavin. Added to the fact that he still felt guilty and that he seemed to be bothered with something else, could raise his temper immensely, “Maybe that might be a reason...sure. We already have android support. But seeing you could have kindled his fear to get replaced by an android as well."

While Connor processed the latest information, the conversation slowed down. Both were following their own thoughts as Connor searched for a good observation spot near the only warehouse at the docks they could find. Suddenly, some of Gavin’s latest behavior seemed to make sense to yn. It shouldn’t be an excuse but Gavin Reed was a good guy … he just lost his temper too fast.

Connor stopped the engine and he and yn were reaching for the radio to turn it off. In the middle, their hands touched and both looked at each other with a sheepishly expression. Under his soft glance, yn felt her cheeks reddening. Connor noticed the color in her face and because he liked the sight, he wanted to see it again, "You're very nice, yn.", Connor said softly.

Yn blinked and looked at her hands, not knowing where these feelings were coming from … and what feelings it were in general, "Thanks."

Connor turned over and leant forward to her, imitating the movements he had seen on JoJo as he was flirting with her, "I really mean that. Compared to Reed, you're pure joy. I like working with you."

Yn looked up into his soft brown eyes. Was he flirting with her? The glance in his eyes, the smile on his lips, what he said, all of it was evidence of a flirty behavior but was this his intention? And … wanted yn that he did that? She liked Connor but … like this? Unsure about the answer to the last question, she tried to ease the moment, "Compared to Reed, a stone is joyful. But thanks, Connor. I like working with you, too."

Before Connor could say something else, a text message on yn’s phone distracted her and the strange moment was gone. She thanked silently for this kind of distraction while she read the message. She was surprised and thankful for Gavin’s timing, What takes you two so fucking long to get there?

"It's Mr Pure Sunshine. Turn on the radio station. Otherwise, he will crawl through the cord on his own to check on us."

Connor followed her instructions and turned on the radio with a not so amused expression.

"Hank? Gavin? We're here.", yn said as the line was free.

"What took you two so long to get there?", Gavin asked harshly, repeating his message.

"You know, I had nothing to wear and Connor helped me to pick out the right clothes as I just left the shower-"

"Yn!", Gavin grunted.

She could hear how annoyed he was, "Hell, calm down. We needed a bit to find a good place."

The hours were ticking by and the observation had been as boring as it sounded until the bug started to transmit. The information were good. The bug on JoJo was still sending a strong signal and so, Hank and Gavin could still hear what the dealer was talking while Connor and yn could see who entered and left the warehouse. As yn watched how a bunch of dealers AND seemingly the boss himself left the warehouse, yn was surprised that they worked so visible. Maybe the android revolution had made all the other criminals a bit more careless because they thought Detroit would have other problems?

“They’re leaving. The boss, as well. That was faster than expected.”, you said astonished.

“Then, I would say we’re done for today. Obviously, in two days there will be another meeting in this warehouse.”, Hank said.

“Good to know. Tomorrow, we should plan out the operation. Maybe we can get Captain Allen’s support. With his unit, we could arrest all at once.”, yn proposed. All agreed on this idea and the station radio got turned off.

#dbh gavin #gavin reed x reader #gavin x reader #gavin reed #dbh connor #dbh #dbh fic #dbh hank #detroit become human #detroit become human connor #writing #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction

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tsukikento · 4 years ago

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Empathetic Chapter 11

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: After your mom, the number 1 hero in America, gets offered a teaching position at U.A., you two pack up your things and head to Musutafu, Japan to start a new life. Pressure for you in America was at an all-time high, and now you’re in Japan, where almost no one knows you, or your family’s past.

This tale starts on your first day of class where your new teacher decides the best way for you to fit in is to fight against the strongest person in your class: Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings/Genre: This piece will feature some angst and reference to an abusive parent, if you are ever worried about other tw’s feel free to send me an ask and I will let you know. There will also be fluff, slight angst, pining, and slowburn.

A/N: Despite how long it might take me to make these chapters, I promise you I have not forgotten about this fic. School is...a lot. Anyways, please send me messages to keep me motivated, I love y’all!

(masterlist)

After a decently long walk full of quips and sarcastic comments that made time go by much quicker, you and Bakugou arrived at the nearest subway station.

“Do you have a card or are you that new?” Bakugou asked as you passed by a help desk.

Quickly, you swung around your bag and grabbed your wallet out of your small pocket. You pulled out a small blue card and showed it at Bakugou with a wide smile on your face. “It was one of the first things I did,” You exclaimed, reminiscent of your second day here when you and your mom went from task to task, only stopping to eat delicious food when necessary.

“You want a medal or some shit?” Bakugou asked while pulling out his own card. He pressed the reader up to the machine and it dinged to signify he could go through.

You pushed on after him, using your own card to get through. “You know, I don’t think I need a whole medal,” You shrugged, “Maybe just a golden sticker.” You chuckled at your own joke and Bakugou just groaned and went off to find the correct station.

You followed closely behind him, feeling rather nervous because of your unfamiliarity with the area. As you brushed past a group of large ment, you unknowingly grabbed onto Bakugou’s jacket, putting your pointer finger into his pocket. It was something you always did to your older siblings as they lead the way.

Immediately, Bakugou turned back to look at your hand and brushed you off of him. “What are you doing?” He questioned, squinting his eyes at you.

“Oh,” You shockingly shoved your own hands into your pockets. “It’s just a habit when I get nervous.”

Bakugou looked at you for a couple beats before turning around and not saying anything else. Silently, he led you as he weaved through the crowd. Eventually, he stopped in front of a yellow line and pulled out his phone to check the time.

“The train should get here soon,” He mumbled. Bakugou stood fairly still, the only movement being his thumb gliding across his phone as he scrolled through social media in his pastime.

What social media would Bakugou even use? You questioned as you tried to peak over at what app he may be on.

Eventually, you gave up and pulled out your own phone, pulling up a random app to occupy your time and you primarily focused on the blond standing next to you. You glance up from your phone and take a peak at him every now and then, admiring the soft curves of his muscles. The visible sunkissed skin paired well his dark clothes and deep vermillion eyes.

You turned back to your phone, knowing your face was just as red as the eyes you were admiring.

You took in a deep breath.

Don’t think about him that way.

He’s just a normal guy, You reasoned as a subway rushed through the tunnel, eventually coming to a stop. When it finally screeched to a halt, you and Bakugou were located just to the left of the opening door, something you believed Bakugou did on purpose.

He put his phone away, you followed quickly after, and watched as crowds of people filtered off the train. The station wasn’t as packed as it was the weekend you ran errands with your mom, but it was still packed enough to make you slightly worried.

You concentrated on Bakugou, knowing he could handle himself in a busy environment like this. When he stepped forward, you stepped forward.

You followed close behind him onto the train, you two being some of the first people entering. There was a handful of seats inside the small compartment and Bakugou led you to one immediately.

“Sit,” He mumbled while motioning towards the seat. You happily listened and posted up on the plastic yellow chair. Despite the empty seat next to you, Bakugou remained standing, his right hand grabbing onto the fabric loop attached to the ceiling.

You pouted up at the blond, jutting out your bottom lip and furrowing your eyebrows. “Why aren’t you sitting?” You asked, patting the chair next to you.

Bakugou was pushed forward, much closer to you, with the masses of people piling in. You tried your best not to become flustered from having his hips pushed to your face. He looked perfectly nonchalant during the whole predicament and simply shrugged his shoulders. “I’m leaving the seat open for people who need it,” He answered.

Before you could retort his argument, a younger teenage boy slid into the seat. He looked like he might be about thirteen years old. He snickered like a hyena as he squeezed in next to you, his friends who were only feet laughing just like him.

You glanced up to Bakugou, trying not to look at the boy who was very obviously dared to sit next to you. The blond accompanying you today was clearing glaring down at the younger boy. His piercing, merlot-colored eyes were glaring daggers at the kid.

You just couldn’t tell if he was dared to sit next to you because of your looks or because he wanted to see if Bakugou would kill him. You would argue for the latter though.

The train doors closed and your journey kicked off, the low hum of the wheels and engine creating a rather peaceful white noise background. You went to pull out your phone to distract yourself from the silent fight going on right next to you. However, before you could even reach into your pocket, Bakugou spoke.

“Beat it,” He growled at the kid, who immediately rushed away like a scared dog with a tail between its legs.

Bakugou immediately took his spot, moving slightly to find a relaxed and comfortable position. His eyes stayed on the group of boys for a bit longer, watching as they whispered to each other and looked occasionally over to you.

“Idiots,” He mumbled, while nudging you and pointing at them.

You laughed lightly, “Come on! They are just harmless kids.”

“Harmless?” He doubtfully replied. “Anyone of them could have a quirk that could kick our ass.”

You laughed louder. “You trying to tell me you weren’t just like them in middle school?”

The blond scoffed, “No way!” He left it there, rather silent for his usual self. You would expect him to try and spend this time boasting about how naturally skilled he was or how he trained everyday. Except…he didn’t say any of that.

“What were you like in middle school?” You tentatively asked, playing with your thumbs to calm your nerves.

Bakugou cleared his throat and adjusted his seating position so he was more upright. “So focused on being a hero that I was blind to everything else,” He practically whispered. His voice was eerily calm and quiet. You almost didn’t hear him speak.

The loud sound of the subway filled your ears as you carefully debated your next words. You didn’t want to start an argument, but it was tempting to tell him that he still was.

At least to some degree.

You didn’t know him in middle school, and from how Ashido talked about Bakugou, you were sure he was a much better person than even just a year ago. Despite this, he was still clueless and not as in control of his emotions as his peers.

Quickly, you backtracked, and chuckled at Bakugou just before the pause went on one beat too long. You nonchalantly slapped his shoulder and replied, “Are you kidding me? So you really didn’t do anything fun or risky? Not even like skip out on a class?”

“Nope,” He grumbled in response while making sure to pop the ‘p’ in his comment. “I may be strong, but middle school was when I needed to prove myself good enough to go to U.A.”

You hummed in response, wishing you could relate to his struggle more. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what that feels like,” You reasoned, “But I do know how it feels to come from a strong family.”

“Sounds pretty nice,” Bakugou scoffed, almost offended that you tried to compare his strife and your benefit.

“Trust me,” You mumbled, “It is not all it is cracked up to be.”

Bekugou looked at you from his peripherals, noticing the small opening to learn more about you. He was not one to care about people’s past and he definitely did not try to hide his lack of care. However, after your tantrum the other night, he had been slowly getting more and more intrigued in your family and their past.

What could be so horrible that you refused to answer why you were so unlike your mother and siblings?

After debating for the rest of that night, Bakugou ended up typing your mother's name and ‘family history’ into a search engine. Just before pressing ‘search’ he stopped himself, realizing how this could invade your privacy.

Bakugou was not one to care about others, but he did respect his own privacy and knew how annoyed he would be in your same position. He closed the tab on his phone and huffed, realizing he could only feel good about getting his answer if he had you answer it yourself.

“Care to elaborate?” He suggested, tugging at the possibility of learning about your past.

You turned your head to look at the blond and debate whether or not to answer. You were brushing shoulders with him, allowing his emotions to rush through you. You knew his heart beat faster and the prospect of you. Although you couldn’t tell why he was so excited, you knew he was tentative and yet unavoidably curious.

Something you studied throughout your adolescence was communication and specifically relationships. Your quirk revolved around knowing people and understanding them, making this aspect of your quirk rather niche, but still valuable.

When forming relationships, it is important and natural to slowly reveal information about yourself to enhance a possible friendship. Despite this analytical thought process, your heart raced and craved for you to rely on Bakugou emotionally and test your relationship with him.

“Well,” You began, “I obviously don’t have a quirk similar to my mom or siblings.” You crossed your arms and tried to maintain a stoic face. “They are so strong and my quirk is so hidden. To me, we are on different scales, but I am always compared to them. They know my quirk so well from training me when I was young that I can literally never win against them. No matter what element they use, they are able to use noise to block out my ability to hear thoughts and keep me at a far distance to make sure I don’t put them to sleep.”

You exasperatedly sighed.

“I just wish people wouldn’t compare me to them or expect me to be as amazing as them when my quirk is so different!” You exclaimed, your voice drowning out fairly well because of everyone else on the subway.

You and Bakugou looked at each other for quite some time, you waiting for him to speak and him having no clue what to say.

Bakugou hummed and looked down at his hands. Your eyes followed and saw him picking at his nails.

You didn’t need Bakugou to respond, and you realized you shouldn’t expect him to. While some people would rush to comfort you, Bakugou would ruminate on your words.

“I’m sure you will kick all their asses one day,” Bakugou mumbled, giving you more than you expected.

You didn’t bother to reply and simply nodded, appreciating the small words of encouragement.

A few silent minutes passed before the train came to another slow stop. “This is our stop,” Bakugou explained while he got up from his plastic seat.

You stood up after him, your two seats immediately being filled. When the doors opened, the natural stream of people exiting guided you and Bakugou out. Despite this, you carefully kept close to the blond, not wanting to lose him in the crowd.

Bakugou guided you through the underground subway station until you finally came to a bright opening. Walking up the stone staircase, you were greeted by the bustling city of Musutafu.

“This way,” Bakugou mumbled, drawing your attention away from the scenery and back to him.

“Ah,” You exclaimed, rushing to catch up to the blond. “How far is the office?” You asked, finally walking next to Bakugou.

With the streets as crowded as ever, you were forced to walk rather close to the blond, your shoulders and arms delicately brushing as you took long strides to keep up with him.

“Just a block,” He explained, while grabbing his phone from his pocket. You saw the screen turn on for a flash, just enough for him to check the time, before shoving it back into his pocket. The large text had read 12:42pm, meaning it took you about 40 minutes to get here.

It didn’t take long for you to arrive at the tall building full of small businesses, but the walk was quiet. Bakugou was taller than you and his strides were long and quick. You were much too focused on keeping up with him and monitoring your breathing to actually hold a conversation.

“It’s up here,” He commented, pointing to the brick building about 5 stories high. This part of the neighborhood was older than much of the city, meaning the architecture utilized more brick and clay than metal and glass.

It was quant, sweet. Not something you would associate with the uptight Bakugou. You would assume he would go to a top-notch, modern company. Then again, he did say Kobayashi was a family friend and old employee of his family.

“Hoo,” You exhaled, “Okay.” You shook your hands and stared up at the building, trying to calm your nerves. You lightly jumped from one foot till the next, hoping the excess of energy and nerves you currently had would go away. You gulped down the lump in your throat and went to step forward before you were stopped by the muscular arm of Bakugou.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bakugou questioned as he recalled your weird and awkward nervous dance.

Wide-eyed and innocent, you looked up to the blond. You cleared your throat and mumbled out, “Nothing.”

Bakugou scoffed, “That was definitely something, you idiot.” His raised eyebrows and wide smirk made the pit in your stomach enlarge.

You stared back at him, watching his intense gaze. It was practically begging for you to confess, and it was honestly working. “I’m nervous, okay?!” You exasperatedly explained.

“Why?” Bakugou asked, his voice more critical than he wanted it to be. However, instead of correcting himself, he kept silent and let you talk.

“I don’t know!” You replied. “I’m meeting a new person, he’s making my hero costume, which is a big thing! Like, this is how people will know me, really know me!” You groaned out, gesturing in a random direction to show your frustration. “On top of that fact, my mom doesn’t even know I’m changing it! My family has a themed costume and I am about to change mine.”

“Jeez,” Bakugou grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “You sure do have a lot of family problems.”

“Don’t we all?” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him.

Bakugou barked out a laugh, a genuine laugh. “I guess so,” He shrugged, before reaching forward to grab the door. “Ready?”

You nodded, also trying to convince yourself. You stepped inside and Bakugou followed closely behind you. Close enough that you could feel the heat of his chest.

“We are going to the third floor,” Bakugou mumbled. He raised his arm and pointed around your shoulder, pointing at the elevator to your left. Ignoring the body heat that was exuding from Bakugou’s arm, you stepped forth to change a major factor in your future.

The meeting went great.

You checked in at the desk, was brought in almost immediately, and Kobayashi guided you through every step.

Meanwhile, Bakugou sat in the waiting room, on his phone. The young lady at the front desk knew better than to try and start an attempt with the son of Bakugou Mitsuki.

When you exited the room, about an hour later, Bakugou immediately got up from his seat and tucked his phone away. He bowed at Kobayashi, albeit only slightly.

“Thanks for bringing her in, Bakugou-kun,” Kobayashi greeted as he opened the door for you to exit into the lobby.

Kobayashi’s fashionable black clothes outshined both of yours, but it seemed only appropriate. His hair was dyed a dark auburn and his skin was clear and tan with a slight pink flush.

“Of course, Kobayashi-san,” Bakugou replied with the smallest smile on his lips. “Thank you for seeing her.” His posture was much more appropriate and formal than usual, but his hands were still in his pockets, giving him an overall nonchalant appearance.

“Anything for a Bakugou,” The costume designer grinned, his gentle features making him look much younger than a 32 year-old designer. He turned away from Bakugou and faced you once more. “I’ll send you that email within the week, sweetheart,” He explained while casually waving goodbye to the both of you and walking back into his office.

“Thank you!” You exclaimed, bowing at him before he could no longer see you. You then turned to the receptionist and bowed as well, mumbling a small thank you.

“My pleasure,” She smoothly responded, fairly surprised that Bakugou would bring along such a kind person.

You gingerly smiled and turned away to look at the blond boy accompanying you. “Ready?” You asked, watching as Bakugou followed your actions.

“Yup,” Bakugou replied, leading you into the hall by opening the door for you and back to the elevator. The walk was pleasantly silent during the short trek. “How did it go?” He finally asked while pressing the button to the elevator.

“Good,” You nonchalantly spoke.

A bell dinged and the automatic doors opened. You stepped inside first and Bakugou was soon to follow. He pressed the ground floor button and casually leaned against the back wall. You had positioned yourself towards the back wall too, meaning you were within only a few inches of him.

You cleared your throat, trying your best not to focus too much on how close he was. “I showed him my old costume,” You continued to explain, “ and what I want for the new one. He made a couple rough sketches and then took my measurements. He said he would email me some more sketches and we would talk from there.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in, additionally tired from rushing through your explanation because of how distracted you were.

Why didn’t I bring water with me today? Why is it so hot?

You fiddled with one of the earbuds in your ears, careful not to take it out. Despite being tempted, you were sure that Bakugou was not thinking about your current proximity. That knowledge would just disappoint you further. You consciously removed your hand away and tried to open up your posture to make yourself more confident.

“Damn, you got a lot more than I did,” Bakugou snorted. “Literally sent him my measurements and a detailed list of what I wanted. Got to say though, I got the perfect costume.”

“Oh yeah?” You remarked, a slight seductive tone to your voice. “I haven’t even seen your hero costume yet.” The tone of your voice was more flirty than you expected, but you attempted to roll with it.

“I’m sure you will soon,” Bakugou barked back, a smirk gracing his lips and a glint in his eyes that made your insides turn.

That was something you couldn’t help, but obsess over for the next few milliseconds. “And you will mine,” You choked out, trying your best to stay calm, cool, and collected.

The elevator doors once again opened and Bakugou motioned for you to exit first. You felt a slight heat on the small of your back, but no touch.

Was Bakugou going to touch me? You questioned, making sure not to look behind you. Better not embarrass him by letting him know I noticed.

You heard Bakugou clear his throat. “The restaurant is just a few stores down,” He explained as you opened the tinted door to the bright outside.

You stepped aside and held the door open to allow Bakugou to come out into the warm sun. “Lead the way,” You offered, gesturing for Bakugou to move much like he did in the elevator.

Bakugou nodded and began walking, this time slow enough to you to easily walk beside him.

“So,” You began, not sure how to approach this topic. “What is good at this restaurant?”

Bakugou shrugged, “All of it. You can read the menu when we get there,” He suggested.

“Yeah,” You paused, “I guess.” You bit your lip, wanting to ask more questions but knowing he didn’t want to answer.

“What?” Bakugou questioned, looking at you with a more teasing expression. When you didn’t respond, he elaborated, “I know you want to ask me something.”

“Huh?” You looked back at him with a surprised face. “I’m don’t--”

“Just because you can read minds, doesn’t mean I can’t know something is bothering you from your awkward as fuck body language,” Bakugou explained.

Although flattered that he noticed, you still couldn’t help but laugh. “What even is that sentence?”

“Shuddup, idiot! I am the native Japanese speaker here!” He yelled back over your giggles.

“Okay, okay,” You sighed while clutching your stomach. “Sorry, Bakugou,” You rather teasingly apologized.

“Tch,” Bakugou snickered. “First off, remember your honorifics,” He held up one finger and looked at you with a serious face. However, you still knew he didn’t mean anything rude by it. “Secondly, you don’t need to apologize,” Bakugou quickly added, “Even if I can tell you don’t really mean it.”

“No, no! I do!” You emphasized. A few beats of silence and you laughed again, unable to keep a straight face.

“Ugh,” Bakugou groaned, and increased his speed.

As you jogged to keep up to the red-eyed teen, you saw a small smile grace his face. Not a smirk, but a genuine smile.

You tried your best to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you finally fell back into step with the blond. He had significantly slowed down his pace and eventually came to a stop. You looked up and saw a large sign reading “Greek Pizza” in katakana.

You grinned at the blond and he guided you into the restaurant. It was cute and quaint with 2 waitresses immediately greeting you both.

“Reservation for Bakugou Katsuki,” Bakugou spoke once close enough to the front table.

You didn’t pay too much mind to the waitress as she brought you to a table, because you were observing the interior design of the restaurant much more. It looked so much like a typically greek home, with uneven white walls and gorgeous photography lining them.

It was so bright and cheery that you did not expect Bakugou to be interested in a fusion of Italian and Greek food.

You sat down across from Bakugou at a small boothe. The waitress left menus and excused herself as she went to grab glasses of water. You spent the next minute glazing over the menu while you waited for the waters.

The main section of their menu was greek themed pizzas, but they also had a few sandwiches and classic greek bowls that focused around Greek and mediterranean veggies with some Italian additions. Your mouth was practically watering from the select photos they added.

“The family that started this place are a married couple from Greece and Italy, but they hire Japanese staff to make the customers more comfortable,” Bakugou commented. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

“I can tell,” You smiled as you read over a pizza. “So,” You looked up to Bakugou over your menu, “Explosion of Flavor?”

Bakugou snorted at you just as the waitress arrived with two glasses of water. “Call me over whenever you are ready,” She spoke before bowing and leaving you two to continue looking over the menu.

“I don’t know if I can deal with all that spice,” You commented.

“I’ll get it,” He explained, “So you can try some.”

You looked up at him, but he was simply looking over the menu. You couldn’t read him, but you knew his ability to share was a good sign. “Thank you,” You simply replied, a sweet smile gracing your lips. You continued to look over the food and settled on something you thought would pair well with a spicy pizza.

It was a classic styled pizza with meditteranean toppings, such as artichoke hearts, black olives, and spinach. However, it was topped with a swirl of a fig balsamic glaze. “I’m thinking of getting the Balsamic Classic.”

Bakugou hummed, his lack of complaints making you hope it was an overall good choice. “I’ll order,” He mumbled while waving his hand for a waitress to see. One, who was currently dropping off plates for another customer, smiled towards you.

“Yes!” She exclaimed before finishing up with the people in front of her. Afterwards, she rushed to you. “Ready to order?” She asked, pulling out a paper and pen.

“Yes,” Bakugou began. “Could we please have two glasses of ice, a bottle of blood orange italian soda, the veggies and hummus, the Explosion of Flavor, and the Sweet Classic.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back with your drinks and hummus,” She replied. “Anything else?”

Bakugou shook his head and she swept herself away towards the kitchen.

You not only noted that Bakugou was surprisingly polite, but also realized that he ordered more than you expected. “Drinks and an appetizer?” You question, looking at him quizzically.

The blond simply shrugged and looked up at the wall away from you. “To celebrate you getting a new hero uniform,” He mumbled, clearly avoiding eye contact.

You smiled at his explanation, but didn’t speak, not wanting to tease him or make him upset. You did, however, very much appreciate this more chill and kind persona Bakugou had. You watched the blond look around the restaurant as if he had never been here before, all the time admiring his looks. His jawline and neck muscles grabbed your attention in particular.

After a few moments, you were interrupted by the waitress approaching with your drinks and hummus. You gladly accepted the glasses so she could easily place the platter of food in the center of the table.

She then placed the bottle of italian soda on the table and bowed before leaving.

You cheerily grabbed the glass bottle to pour two drinks while Bakugou grabbed a carrot stick and dipped it into the hummus. Once done, you passed one of the glasses onto his side and took your chance to also eat some of the platter.

“Mmm,” You hummed, noting how great the hummus tasted compared to store-brand containers you’ve had before.

Bakugou chuckled at you as he dipped another veggie stick into the bowl.

“What?” You pouted, looking at him while pushing out your bottom lip.

He laughed even hard, “You are such a child!”

“Am not!’ You shot back, scrunching up your nose is disbelief.

Bakugou smirked at you and picked up a carrot stick, dipped it in hummus and took a bite. He then proceeded to wiggle and wave around the rest of the carrot stick while humming. He was clearly mocking you.

“Ugh,” You groaned, rolling your eyes, despite knowing this was all lighthearted fun. “Am I not allowed to enjoy good tasting food?”

“Guess not,” He shrugged before finishing off the carrot stick in his hand.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, while he remained cool and simply leaned back into the booth. “You’re so mean!” You exclaimed through your laughs.

“I could be meaner,” He retorted, smirking at you while crossing your arms. It was as if he was just begging for you to challenge him. You, however, were much more focused on his flexing arm muscles. His milky skin had a beautiful golden tint to it and the shirt he was wearing on made it look better.

A little too late, you eventually snorted at his joke and shook your head to refocus yourself. Once done, you looked up to Bakugou and smiled brightly, not wanting to tear your own eyes away from his vermillion ones.

Beats of time passed as you smiled like an idiot at Bakugou and he simply looked back at you, a small smirk on his lips. It was Bakugou who broke the longing gaze first. He blinked, cleared his throat and rotated to look almost completely behind him.

You widen your eyes, not sure why you stared at him for so long. You extended your arm forward and grabbed the ice cold glass of water. You cautiously sipped on it, worried that if you gulped it down, you would choke. The cool water soothed the heat you felt on your face, but you were sure you were still noticeably red.

What can I talk about? You thought, craving something that would make you both completely forget this moment.

“Um,” You mumbled, struggling to make eye contact with the blond. “Kobayashi wanted me to let you know, by the way,” You took another sip of water to try and help swallow the lump in your throat. Bakugou, whose face was very faintly red, looked at you. “He has a new intern that is a student at U.A. He said that once he’s done with me, the intern would be who we could both go to from now on.”

Bakugou nodded, not bothering to vocalize a response.

The air was awkward and you both knew why. You, however, doubted that this would help your relationship with him. It honestly might hinder it.

A few more moments passed before Bakugou finally spoke. “So,” He began, “Is your offer to train with me still on the table?”

You looked up from your lap to meet Bakugou’s eyes.

This looks promising.

“Of course it is,” You replied while smirking, “I’m always up for kicking your ass.”

“Hah?” Bakugou exclaimed, loud enough for multiple other restaurant goers to look over at your both. The fury in his eyes was evident and it made you laugh even harder than you already were. “What makes you think you will beat me again?”

“Maybe because I beat you before?” You suggested.

“Tch,” He scoffed, tearing his eyes away from you. “I was going easy last time,” He explained, practically grinding his teeth as he spoke.

“Ahh,” You replied, “Of course you were.” You raised your eyebrows and slowly nodded before grabbing a carrot stick and dipping it into the hummus.

Bakugou silently eyes you, his furrowed eyebrows and red eyes making him look terrifying. You were determined not to get scared of him.

Eventually, Bakugou was forced to look away as your pizzas arrived. The two gorgeous and ooey gooey pies were placed in front of you, the platter of hummus and veggies being pushed to the side.

Avoiding Bakugou’s eyes, you grabbed one of the small plates they provided you and immediately grabbed one of your own slices.

“Stop being an ass or you won’t be able to try my pizza,” Bakugou pouted as he grabbed his own slice.

You laughed at him, “Although I would love to try your pizza, I, for one, feel like I am not being and ass, and two, feel like you are being a baby.”

“Am not!” He retorted before tearing into the baked dough.

“Are to!”

“Am not!”

“Are t--” You stopped before finishing. “You know what?” You questioned while grabbing one of Bakugou’s slices of pizza. “I am not going to argue with you. I will let my own fighting do the speaking for me.”

Bakugou smirked and you wondered if he possibly was proud of your quick retort. “Clever,” He mumbled before grabbing one of your pizza’s slices.

You smiled, happy with the little praise you were receiving. You didn’t bother continuing the conversation and you dove into admiring the amazing food in front of you.

You and Bakugou ended up spending another hour and a half in the restaurant, meaning you didn’t get home till 4pm. You still had much of the day ahead of you, but spending hours with Bakugou definitely took a lot out of you.

You were glad that your conversation for the rest of the not-so date was pleasant and humorous. You walked into the door with a smile on your face and Bakugou told you about a time when Kaminari spazzed out after only 3 minutes of training.

You immediately saw Midoriya and Iida sitting at the dining table, Sato and Koda in the kitchen, and Hagakure and Ashido on the couch. The smile on Bakugou;s face disappeared and he immediately ushered you to the elevator.

You felt a pang in your heart, wondering if Bakugou didn’t want people to see you together. Then again, Bakugou also seemed like a very private person, maybe he just didn’t want to flaunt around like other people would.

You let him lead you into the elevator where you watched as he sighed and leaned against the elevator wall. You looked at him curiously, not outright asking for him to explain.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, something you did not expect him to say at all. “I just didn’t want to get caught in a conversation with anyone, especially considering the look Pinky was giving me.”

“That’s okay,” You replied, flashing him a kind smile. “I don’t always feel like being around people either.” You felt your phone vibrating non-stop. You were sure it was all texts from Ashido as she has clearly seen you with Bakugou.

“Cool,” Bakugou quietly replied.

The elevator singed and you walked out before Bakugou. He immediately caught up to you and held his phone out to you. You eyed it questionably, not wanting to take it from him without knowing what for.

“Your number, dumbass,” He explained.

You smirked at him before taking it and beginning to put in your number.

“Tch, so we can plan a fight, obviously,” He added in response to your knowing smirk.

You nodded and sent a text to yourself so you would have his number. “Have a good rest of your day, Bakugou,” You spoke while giving his phone back to him. “See you later.” You waved goodbye and walked to your door, knowing full well that he was watching you.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki #katsuki x reader #my hero academy #bakugou fanfic #bakugou katsuki imagines #bakugou katsuki headcannon

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit

Summary: As a rule, Vader did not really do anything with his social media account, but then the rant of some kid from Tatooine about the inefficiency of TIE Fighters began trending, the pilots and engineers on the Devastator started fixing their ships and Vader got invested.

AN: This fanfic is almost 7.000 words long do yourself a favor and go read it on AO3.

“Why are all the engineers tearing through the ships?” Vader asked the officer in charge.

Truthfully, they hadn’t been sent on a campaign lately, but the Emperor liked to whimsically assign Vader and his ship to pointless random battles, so they always had to be prepared to head into combat and couldn’t afford all their Fighters to be in repair. Frankly speaking, most of the TIEs never saw any repairs. They were just scrapped and demolished. He supposed he should be glad his mechanics had enough sense not to start working on all ships simultaneously.

“They are fixing the life support and shielding of the TIEs, my Lord.”

The what.

“The TIE-Fighters don’t have deflector shielding,” Vader stated.

The Head Engineer nodded nervously and stood up straight. Vader hadn’t picked them for nothing. Their predecessor had been a weak sucker-up who had seen it fit to either doesn’t inform Vader about crucial decisions and changes or had bothered him about every little detail. This new one knew how to do their job or at least it had seemed like it up until now.

“We are aware, my Lord. But there was this video explaining how to easily make some changes to the TIEs and I saw it fit to ensure we reduce our damages,” they replied.

“What video?”

The Head Engineer fetched a datapad from the nearest table and searched through a couple files until they opened one, revealing a video. It appeared to have been posted on the holonet one and a half weeks ago and already had an impress number of views and comments. The entire video was several hours long, and had gained a few Reaction Videos as well.

The thumbnail showed a blonde boy, roughly fifteen if Vader were to guess, wearing a half undone overall and a tank top, standing next to a slightly older boy and an assassination droid, a severely damaged TIE-Fighter lying in the sands behind them.

Vader hit play.

The video started, showing the blond boy of before sitting in a makeshift workshop, a pair of goggles lying around his neck.

“Welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting,” the teenager in the video said. He took a sip of water from the metallic canteen he was holding, drinking slow and carefully the way only a desert dweller did. “A couple weeks ago some sleemo commented that I’d never be able to improve any Imperial ships since I’m just Outer Rim trash.”

The boy took another sip, then set his canteen aside to reach for some parts that looked like they belonged to a half-finished droid.

“And I suppose you did have a point that the things I fix won’t ever reach the level of an Imperial TIE because I wouldn’t build such trash in the first place.”

The teenager’s face was fairly blank, but laughter could be heard coming from whoever was behind the camera, likely the other boy.

“So, to prove that I can do better, I sold a lot of speeders, ships and droids, repaired more terrible freighters than I can count, won several totally legal races and placed a couple of very fortunate bets in the palace of Jabba.”

The boy paused, then he smiled widely and, together with his cameraman, yelled “Boonta Eve Classic Champions!”

When he was done laughing, the boy continued talking. “Anyway, the point is, I made a lot of money to buy a lot of trash.”

The screen turned black and when it returned, it showed the image depicted in the thumbnail. The blond boy climbed on top of the TIE and smiled victoriously.

“So in today’s episode, I’m not only going to prove all you disbelievers wrong, I’m also going to drag the entire Tie-Fighter Program through the sarlacc pit. I’m Luke, the man recording is Biggs, my helper over there is HK-77 and this is Scrap Hunting.”

The first few notes of a song start playing and the channel’s logo, two suns overlaid by a speeder, showed up. The Head Engineer proceeded to stop the video, the screen frozen on the image of the boy grinning mischievously.

“He proceeds to begin to completely overhaul the damaged TIE he bought with alarmingly low cost and high efficiency within a few hours and, frankly speaking, embarrasses me. Some of the things Luke does never occurred to me and it should have, I went to one of Coruscant’s best universities-��

They sighed and put the datapad down. “Either way, we are now making changes to our TIEs. I apologize for not having informed you before, my Lord, but I assumed you’d approve of our Fighters being the most advanced on the field.”

The Head Engineer didn’t look like they regretted their decision, but they had obviously resigned themselves to whatever Vader decided their fate would be. They were loyal to Vader and his command. Vader needed people like them on his crew, not more of the Emperor’s spies.

“You presumed correctly,” Vader said. “Finish outfitting the TIEs you already began taking apart. I will watch the video of this Luke and see what exactly he has to say about the military.”

The Head Engineer saluted. “Yes, Sir! I won’t disappoint you!” Then they turned around and marched over to where the others had stopped working to watch their exchange and told them to get back to work.

Vader, meanwhile, took the datapad and returned to his own rooms. He had a video to watch.

Luke had not planned on becoming famous with a video titled Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit. In fact, he had never expected any of his videos to gain the kind of following and attention they had even before that particular one. In all honesty, it had just started with him making a recording of how he fixed vaporators without taking them apart completely so his friend Biggs could do it as well. He’d just posted that on the net and kept going. First about droids, some more rambles about ships and a while back he’d finally been allowed to go to the shipyards on his own to earn some extra cash.

But then he had found HK-77 in a dumping ground. The droid had been severely damaged, but not so much that Luke couldn’t fix it. Assassin droids were intelligent, much more than any other ones and Luke could honestly use some extra hands around the farm and when he was repairing speeders. Biggs had recorded bits of Luke working on the droid, cut it together and uploaded it and people had loved it. His videos got more clicks, he got more subscriptions and here he was now.

Usually, Luke didn’t let comments get to him, but one obviously core-world spoiled bastard had discredited Luke’s skills without having any idea how terrible the Empire’s priced Fighters actually were.

“C’mon,” Biggs said, throwing an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “One last project before I leave for the Academy.”

Luke had also been trying his best to avoid thinking about how much he was going to miss his best friend. He wanted to leave with him – though not to be a common TIE-Fighter pilot, Luke wasn’t suicidal – but he couldn’t leave his family behind when they needed him.

“Alright,” Luke agreed, blushing. “Where are we going to get a TIE, though?”

Turned out that a TIE had crashed a while back and a junk dealer had picked it up. Unfortunately, despite its terrible damages, it was really expensive and Luke didn’t have that kind of money. It took a lot of work to scrap it all together – and he had been grounded for a month after winning the Boonta Eve Classic, but being the second human to ever win after Anakin Skywalker, his own father, had been worth it – but in the end Biggs and Luke had poured their funds together and bought the TIE.

And then the fun had started.

Vader sat down at his desk and pulled up the video again. He skipped to the moment the Head Engineer had stopped the video and hit play.

“Okay, first things first,” Luke said. “TIE’s were not made to be repaired. How do I know?”

Luke crawled into the pilot’s seat and opened the panels beneath it. “Because this is where the Empire would store the hyperdrive navigational systems, theft prevention protocols and life support, if the TIEs had any!”

He disappeared beneath the panels and began taking out the machinery, handing it to the HK-77 droid. Tatooine’s junkyards had always been a treasure chest, but finding C-3PO there had been astonishing. An assassination droid was worth much more than a mere protocol droid. Vader would have to check if the boy talked about how he’d acquired it somewhere.

“What kind of moron designs a ship that doesn’t have that?” Luke spoke up, his voice echoing. “I know who. They’re called Sienar Fleet Systems and go back to the Clone Wars.”

Luke stood up, and placatingly held up his hands. “I know, the Empire also made some pretty cool ships. I won’t lie, I’d kill to get my hands on the schematics on the Devastator, but the security of Kuat Drive Yards is too good.”

Luke paused.

“Not that I’d ever attempt to get a better look on them.”

The video zoomed in on Luke’s face and his frankly speaking terrible poker face in what was supposed be a comedic shot. Not many people would have the guts to admit they’d attempted to slice into KDY’s security and Vader doubted it was idiocy on the boy’s part. The youth was interesting and it became apparent rather quickly that he knew what he was talking about. He would certainly make a good asset to Vader’s crew, should he sign up.

“Point is,” Luke continued. “They cut all these extra measures out to lose weight and mass produce these TIEs with the lowest costs possible. However, even out here on Tatooine we’ve got ships with really small and efficient support systems, so I’ll dig through this mess down here and make some space for life support first.”

Luke then pointed on the rather large box standing next to him. “All I need for that is in this box. I uploaded the schematics to my usual server. It’s free to download, but I’d be very thankful if you could leave me a tip because I am broke until I’ve gotten this project done.”

Vader only skimmed through the next hours as Luke was working on taking the TIE’s insides apart. He explained what he was doing more or less coherently. It was clear he was lacking some of the terminological knowledge needed to describe the precise measures he took, but he was a rather efficient worker.

“Not sure yet if I can get my hands on a hyperdrive that won’t blow up on me, but we’ll see,” Luke said during the last minute of the video. “Theft prevention, however, I can work with.”

The video cut again and by now only the last beams of sunlight were illuminating the sands.

“Check this,” Luke said and pulled back his arm, a hydrospanner in hand, and threw it at full strength at the outer shell of the TIE. Upon impact, the TIE began blaring alarms.

“Nailed it,” Luke declared confidently while the HK-77 next to him gave him a thumbs up and presumably his friend behind the camera, held his thumb up in front of the recording as well.

“And this concludes part one of-“ Luke began to speak, only to be interrupted by a man’s shout.

“LUKE SKY-“

“Oh, shit,” Luke muttered, eyes wide. “Stop recording, Biggs, stop-“

The video ended and a couple of suggestions popped up, all with equally unserious titles such as ‘Killing it with a Murderbot’, ‘Repairing a hyperdrive but your arm is broken and All Stars is playing’ and ‘Garbage Summary of Republic/Imperial Ships’. The most recent upload was titled ‘Status Update: Scrap Hunters vs. Guardians.’

Vader decided to play it.

The channel’s introduction started to play against and soon after there was a recording of the black-haired boy playing.

“Hello, fellow Hunters,” the young man said, smiling widely. “I’m Biggs and unfortunately, I have to do today’s video by myself.”

He closed his eyes and in fake serenity added, “I hope you’ll enjoy it despite the lack of our overly bright mechanic and resident murderbot. Don’t worry, I know you’re all not actually watching this for me.”

Biggs sat still as writing appeared in the upper corner. I’m also just here for Luke. Hit me up at @darkestlight if you feel like it.

“Anyway,” Biggs continued and the writing disappeared. “This short video is just an update on our current situation. First of all, we’re super happy to see that so many people enjoyed our newest video. The next parts will be uploaded as soon as we can get our hands on the items we need, which might take a while given that Luke has been grounded from working on the TIE for the foreseeable future. If you have any questions for him though, feel free to drop him a message @skyseekerpilot, he’s still got access to the holonet.”

From out of the camera’s reach, he pulled a piece of flimsi, showing off the account’s name and a small doodle of what Vader assumed was meant to be Luke.

“Written by yours truly,” Biggs said and set the flimsi aside. “We’re thinking of doing a Q&A in the near future to bridge the time between the actual next update. Feel free to send us any kind of question! That being said, don’t miss us too much!”

The video stopped and Vader almost found himself being disappointed. The youth had certainly talked a lot about unimportant things, it was clear that he was a mere aid to Luke. Perhaps contacting the boy about his ideas would be worth it.

Luke was bored out of his mind. Honestly, he hated being grounded. Nothing new to tinker with, only work and endless hours of chores and browsing the holonet. He supposed he could work a little more on his schematics, but he didn’t really feel like it. Sitting down and actually sketching what he was thinking was always the most difficult part of the process. Most of the time, Luke just knew and could figure out what he had to fix. He worked by instinct alone, but that didn’t really help others so he had to write things down properly.

Annoyed, Luke flopped down on his bed again. He hoped that Biggs at least would be allowed to come over again soon. It was just so boring without anyone around.

“I could get rid of the problem,” HK-77 offered from where it was sitting in the corner.

“No, thank you, Hagekay,” Luke replied. “I guess I’ll just check the ‘net again.”

He took out his datapad and began skimming his usual sites. He watched the video Biggs had uploaded and looked a little though all the comments they’d already gotten. Their channel had really blown up in the past days and a lot of people seemed quite eager about the possibility of a Q&A, already shooting off questions. Luke switched over to his page and saw a steady amount of questions and comments come in. A lot of them were rather personal, but one caught his attention.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick asked:

You pay a great deal of attention to enhancing the pilot’s safety and protection in the events of a crash, but how do you intend to make up for the lesser maneuverability? The added weight will lower the TIE’s speed to 1,112 KPH and in actual combat, the added speed is necessary. If one considers the lack of deflector shields, the TIE becomes much more vulnerable, to a degree that even your additions will not work. I’d like to hear your suggestions as to how you would solve that problem.

Reading the message, Luke began to smile widely. Fighterfan had obviously sat down to do the proper math. Luke, admittedly, had only done some rough calculations but his result had been almost the same and he’d immediately began searching or results.

Easy, he wrote back, grinning like a madman. I add deflector shields and modify a hyperdrive of the Interio Class. ;)

Luke knew that his holonet connection wasn’t exactly the best. There was a reason Biggs was the one who uploaded their content. Sometimes, especially before, during and after sandstorms, Luke could forget doing anything with his datapad. So when he got a reply barely thirty minutes later, he knew that the other person must have replied immediately.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

The Interio Class hyperdrives are slow at best and do not work at all at worst. I take it you intend to break it down so far that it cannot actually do a hyperspace jump but still accelerates much faster than any other engine?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

Exactly!!! :D Should push the speed back up to 1,200 KPH despite the added weight! I’d also suggest changing the wings to bent-wing solar arrays, but I don’t have the materials for that right now :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick replied:

While the flight controls were designed to be intuitive and easy to learn, very few people would be skilled enough to fly a ship with the modifications you are proposing.

Luke smirked. It would be dangerous indeed, but he’d be able to make it. He’d stretch out his senses, feel the vast expanses of space around him, the million planets and stars and he’d rush right past them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot replied:

I could. :)

Vader hadn’t been sure what to expect of his conversation with Luke. The boy certainly proved that he was bright and clever. Not just intelligent, he knew exactly what his modifications would do to the TIE- Fighter. Despite his excessive need to tag emojis onto his every message and add exclamation marks, actually talking about ships to somebody who couldn’t care less about Imperial regulations was almost enjoyable. The boy’s suggestions were refreshing and unorthodox and a few of them even puzzled Vader for a moment until he was able to follow Luke’s train of thought.

Soon he found himself looking forward to the boy’s messages, even if he couldn’t bring himself to care particularly much about the daily life of a teenage moisture farmer. Unfortunately, he had to admit that he was almost a little annoyed Luke was still a child and therefore couldn’t accept a job offer. Well, Vader would simply have to wait a little longer to get his hands on his next Head Engineer. Until then, messaging him while pretending to listen to some Moffs blab away about the Death Star yet again, would have to suffice.

He had learned nothing but patience in the past years.

“Welcome back to Scrap Hunting!” Luke announced excitedly. “As you can see, I have returned to the land of the living!”

“He’s still grounded,” Biggs said next to him. “I’m just allowed to visit now.”

Luke rolled his eyes and lightheartedly punched his friend into his side. “Don’t make fun of me. I was incredibly lonely.”

Biggs smiled and messed up Luke’s hair in return. “Sure, whatever you say. Anyway! We collected a lot of comments in the meanwhile and decided to do the promised Q&A about ourselves. Luke, if you’d do the honors to read the first question.”

“Sure!”

Luke reached for the datapad in front of them and started it up. He spent a few moments scrolling through it, then stopped and began to read out loud. “For Biggs: In the video repairing Hagekay you said that it keeps threatening you. Does it still do that?”

“All the time,” Biggs replied seriously. He raised his hands in a what-can-you-do kind of way and then dropped them again with a sigh. “Literally. I don’t think this droid likes anyone but Luke and the mouse droid keeping the house clean.”

Biggs frowned and looked around as if he were searching for something. “Where is Emmy? It always seems so eager to clean up after me.”

Luke shrugged. “Maybe got lost in Aunt Beru’s closet again, wouldn’t be the first time. Alright, you do the next question.”

Biggs took the datapad from him and moved on to the next inquiry.

“What the kriff is your title song?” Biggs read, then groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Just let it die please.”

Luke on the other hand immediately jumped up in excitement. “Oh! It’s every fifth note of my favorite song so it doesn’t get taken down for copyright reason. I’ll put a link in the description.”

“Question #3: Where do you live?” Luke stared straight ahead into the camera. “Tatooine, Outer Rim desert world. Do not recommend unless you can survive without a lot of water.”

Beside him, Biggs nodded. “Indeed, not the best place to raise your children. Question number four: Could you upload Hagekay’s original programming?”

The two boys looked at each other and finally shook their heads while staring suspiciously at the camera again. “What could you possibly need the programming of an assassin droid for?”

“Next up: How old are you? And how long have you been working on projects like this?”

Luke frowned and turned to Biggs. “Didn’t we say that before once?”

Biggs only shrugged. “No idea, you talk a lot when you’re working.”

“You love to hear me talk,” Luke replied teasingly. “Well, I’m seventeen and Biggs is nineteen. I’ve been doing repairs on droids for as long as I can think. Speeders and ships are new additions.”

“Same for me,” Biggs said. “You can’t grow up in the middle of nowhere running a moisture farm and not be at least a half-decent mechanic. Okay, next question: What was your favorite project so far? Hmm, I think I enjoyed ‘Hagekay vs Emmy with a viroblade’ the most. You?”

Luke chewed on his lip and paused, deeply lost in thought.

“The TIE-Fighter,” he said eventually. “Even if I wasn’t so sure about it at first. That reminds me! I don’t know how many of you have seen the bits of the conversation that aren’t private, but you should seriously check out Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick. The ship modifications he speaks of are the best and a couple of them will definitely end up in the TIE, credit given, of course. When we’re done with this video, I’ll go right back to replying to your thoughts about navigation systems because I totally agree-“

“Alright, alright,” Biggs interrupted, clasping his hand over Luke’s mouth. “Nerd out with your new best friend somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

Luke huffed and, going by the way Biggs quickly pulled his hand away from his mouth and wiped it on his shirt saying “ewww”, had licked it.

“What are you? Five?” Biggs complained.

Luke laughed. “Compared to your mature six? Alright, next question-“

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about a way to solve the take-off issue yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Noooooo (TT^TT). It’s so stupid, why does anyone design a ship that lacks landing gear? I mean, I get it, these were built for space combat but it just seemed unnecessary that you need an extra start up. What do you do when somebody crashed on a planet? Leave them there????

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. TIEs are viewed as expendable, due to their cheap production costs, as are their pilots. The Empire prefers quantity over quality.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That just seems incredibly short-sighted. What kind of person doesn’t go back to save their friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are wrongly presuming that TIE-Fighter pilots have friends.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

So you don’t have any friends?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh gosh I’m SO SORRY! I didn’t mean that, I just wanted to ask whether you were TIE pilot bc you seem to know the ships so well and I didn’t want to be rude

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I’m sorry!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Super sorry!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Honestly, I didn’t mean to insult you. I apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Yes. I was stuck in a briefing and couldn’t reply. You mustn’t worry. I do not have any friends, nor do I want them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Oh, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off and I’m sorry for overreacting. But you really don’t have any friends? Doesn’t that get lonely? Biggs has been gone barely a couple weeks and I’m already going crazy. I miss him a lot.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You are too dependent on him, Luke. You do not need him.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I do! He always had my back, ever since we were small. And even if you don’t want any friends, you can be sure that I will consider you mine. No expectations of course! But I really enjoy talking to you and I have learned so much since we started talking!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have also found our talks to be pleasant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yay!!!!

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You wanted to ask me whether I am a TIE-Fighter pilot. I own a TIE Advanced x1

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

WHAT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

REALLY???? THAT’S SO COOL THEY ONLY STARTED MANUFACTURING THEM LAST YEAR. How fast does it accelerate? Are the stabilizers really that improved? No wait tell me about the hyperdrive which did they go with? Does it use a Class 4.0? I would have built in a Class 7.0 but they’re more expensive and hard to really stop correctly if you’re not like a great pilot ooOOOH WAIT

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU are flying a TIE/AD!!!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU’RE ACTUALLY IN THE IMPERIAL NAVY. Which ship do you serve on??? Please, please, please tell me about the Destroyers I’ve been wanting to compare them to Republic ships since FOREVER but I couldn’t find any good sources pls I’ll pay in an extra special videos

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Give me a few hours.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

YOU ARE THE BEST!

Vader could not fathom what was wrong with Luke. Nobody wanted to be friends with Darth Vader, certainly he had never given the boy the impression that he was interested in such a relationship? He had merely strived to see what the boy was capable of. He shouldn’t supply the boy with more in-depth plans to his ships and yet he found himself downloading the corresponding schematics. It had been a while since he had been able to carry on a conversation that was actually on his level and engaging as well. Luke was only improving and Vader wanted to keep him. Good personnel was hard to come by and Luke was something different entirely.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I have sent you the plans we talked about. Have you ever considered signing up for the Imperial Academy?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Yes, but I can’t go this year because my uncle still needs me on the farm :/

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

I am able to get you a contract as civilian consultant. You’d be able to work from home.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

What? Is that really a thing?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

If you give me your personal data, I’ll send you a contract.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Thank you!! It’s Luke Lars! My ID is T-LL-2187-A23. Also, uploaded a new video for you :D Hope you enjoy my misadventures!

Luke was sitting on his bed, HK-77 standing beside him, holding out various tools while the mouse droid Emmy was sitting in his lap.

“Hello, everybody and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting! Today is a special compilation dedicated too @thatsaneattrick, who basically gave me an early birthday present. So, sit back and enjoy a compilation of the things we usually cut from our videos! I’m Luke, my helper today is HK-77 and shout out to Biggs who is currently studying a couple of planets away from me!”

The video cut away to start showing the first in a series of rather short escapades featuring at least one member of the trio.

The first video showed Luke working on the TIE’s wings, singing underneath his breath. “This was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to land, this ship was not designed to be functional, functional at all.”

The next video depicted Luke working in the background while Biggs and HK-77 were staring intensely at each other, Emmy stuck between them, driving forwards and backwards like they were trying to keep the two from fighting.

“Where did you hide my hydrospanner.”

“I did no such thing, Biggs.”

The recording blurred as Biggs threw himself on HK-77.

It was dark. The camera slowly focused on Emmy attempting to drive up to the TIE fighter but getting stuck because of the sand. Two giggles could be heard.

“We have to help Emmy,” Luke whispered.

“Yes, wait- oh, Em’s gonna fall over-“

The video slowed down as Emmy tragically fell to its side and couldn’t get up again.

“It’s so kriffing clumsy, like a baby,” Biggs laughed.

“It’ll get there someday.”

In white writing, the message Hasn’t Happened Yet showed up.

“Luke, what are you?”

Luke sighed and looked downcast. “A good mechanic?”

“Then why is the TIE’s cockpit smoking?”

“I was just taking a look at the repulsorlift antigravity field- oh, kriff it’s burning.”

“What!?”

Ever since Biggs had left, Luke’s conversations with Fighter became the most fun part of his days. Sometimes, replies took a little longer depending on how busy and far away Fighter was, but their talks never failed to bring a smile to Luke’s face, no matter how standoffish Fighter acted.

Luke checked his messages again, hoping to catch a new message from Fighter. Sadly, none were in his inbox, only something from a stranger.

Lord Vader @ImperialCommand: Consultant Contract

Luke frowned.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Have you thought about my job offer yet?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Job offer? You were really serious about that? O.o

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Of course, did you not see the attachment I sent you?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I never got a message with a job offer, so I thought you were joking!!! The only thing I got was a message by some guy pretending to be Vader. Didn’t even bother to open that, who knows what kind of virus I could have caught. -.-‘

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

Someone pretended to be Lord Vader? Surely nobody would actually be so ignorant.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Idk! I had to go on his holo page and it seemed legit but there’s no way the emperor’s slaver would ever message me I’m not that naive

…

Fighter?

Are you still there?

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

You would do well not to spread such rebel propaganda anywhere others could find them.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Rebel propaganda???

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Do you mean the ‘slaver’ thing?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

That’s not propaganda, that’s what Vader is. I know your serve in the Navy, and probably met him once or so. I can’t judge what kind of superior he might be, but his behavior is that of a slaver.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What do you know of slavery, child?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I live on Tatooine, remember? Hutts control everything. And my father was a slave, that’s why I have to go by my uncle’s last name, least of all somebody thinks I’m a runaway just cause my father’s name was ‘Skywalker’.

Fighterfan @thatsaneatrick

What was your father’s name.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

His name was Anakin Skywalker, he died towards the end of the last war. Freed himself as a child and became a navigator on a spice freighter. I don’t know much more about him, my aunt and uncle only met him once for my grandmother’s funeral and that’s it. I’m sure he was a good man, though. I just know it.

The boy, Luke, was living Tatooine with his aunt and uncle. Vader had known his last name was Lars, had even seen him mention Owen and Beru multiple times, but he hadn’t made the connection-

Quickly, he pulled up the files he had made on the boy. It said in his documents that he had been adopted by Owen Lars and Beru Whitesun Lars, no mentioning of his biological parents anyway. Vader hadn’t paid any attention to it because it happened often enough on Tatooine. Newborns were smuggled bought out of the slave quarters so they’d get a better life. The boy could be lying, of course, but what would he seek to gain from this ploy?

Anakin Skywalker was dead and everything he had held dear had burned with him, his Master had seen to it.

But hadn’t the boy’s smile reminded him of his dear wife? His excitement for ships, his brilliance- Vader had assumed that some of his stories might have been exaggerated, but maybe he had performed all those death-defying stunts indeed and it was the Force which had saved him.

Luke Skywalker of Tatooine.

It was impossible to think that he had managed to find him through mere interest. The Force must have led him to his son.

His son.

His Master had lied to him, deceived and betrayed him.

Snarling, Vader left his rooms behind and marched towards his personal hanger. He had to go now, reach his son and protect him before the Emperor would diminish his light. Vader would make them pay, all of them, every single person involved in keeping his child from him would be destroyed.

The past weeks had not been particularly interesting or happy for Luke. Ever since his discussion with Fighter, the other man had completely cut their communication. No matter how many messages Luke sent him, he didn’t reply.

He supposed he should have seen it coming. Fighter didn’t say much about his background, but if he was skilled enough to be trusted with a TIE/ad, he had likely grown up on some Imperial Core World, surrounded by the Empire and Vader’s image and didn’t see things the way some Outer Rim kid would. It was too bad that their conversation had stopped. Even if they couldn’t agree on the Empire’s policies, ships were still ships.

He’d miss talking to Fighter.

Luke dragged himself out of his room to go in the kitchen for lunch. He had halfway crossed the homestead when a man in a dark robe hurried down the steps.

“Luke!” He said and threw back his hood, revealing himself as Old Ben Kenobi.

“Oh, hi, Ben! Is everything alright?”

Ben shook his head and a pained expression crossed his face. He looked like he was in a hurry, but Luke could feel the fear lingering in the air.

“We need to go, now,” Ben said hurriedly. “Where are your aunt and uncle?”

“Aunt Beru went into the city and Uncle Owen is out working on the vaporators,” Luke replied slowly.

Ben’s behavior was confusing him. He’d known the older man since he could think. He had never said a thing, but Luke knew he was the one who had made a lot of the model ships now proudly displayed in his room and made sure the Tuskens stayed away from their homestead.

Ben was a nice and kind man, carrying a lot of grief. He was a little strange, but not mad. If he was worried about something, Luke figured he should as well.

“Then there is no time to get them,” Ben said and took Luke’s hand. “We must hurry.”

“Ben, what’s going on?” Luke asked and let himself be pulled along to the homestead’s entrance and out into the sun. “Why are we running?”

“We need to go before he’s here-“ Ben stopped abruptly and stared right ahead.

A black demon stood in some distance from the two of them. He looked like the monsters out of the stories Luke had been told as a child and now knew to be real. Lord Vader.

Ben let go of Luke’s hand and took a step forward, keeping Luke behind him.

“Kenobi.” Vader’s voice was deep, mechanic and artificial. “I have finally found you.”

“So you have, Darth,” Kenobi replied and ignited a lightsaber of a light blue color.

Vader followed suit, his blade an angry red and soon after they were clashing against one another, whirling up the sand. Luke hadn’t known Ben could fight like that, keep every move so fluent despite the ground he was standing on. He met each of Vader’s aggressive strikes with equal strength.

Luke felt like he was suffocating.

He had to stop them, he knew it. He didn’t know why or how, but if he didn’t do anything, the desert would swallow them up.

“What is going on!?” Luke shouted. The two fighters turned to him and it occurred to Luke only then that shouting mid-battle was probably not his smartest move, but what else was he supposed to do.

“You have been deceived all your life, young one,” Vader said. “Kenobi stole you from me, kept you hidden so you wouldn’t inherit your birthright.”

“My birthright,” Luke repeated. “I’m sorry, what are you even talking about.”

“Your father-“

“Was a good man,” Ben interrupted, his words as sharp as a knife. “And you ruined him.”

“You left me to burn!” Vader screamed. “You said you loved me and you left me behind for Sidious to take and remake as he wanted. You took my son from me and let him grow up on the Force-forsaken planet! You stole years from me, months of being unaware of who I was talking to.”

My son, the winds seemed to echo Vader’s words, dancing around Luke’s small frame. The weight behind them almost seemed to push him over.

“Father?” Luke realized. The wind roared in agreement, rushed through Luke’s mind as a barely comprehendible mess acknowledging an impossible truth.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Going on a galactic roadtrip for the foreseeable future! :D

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

(Somebody please get me off this ship they keep glaring at each other it’s so awkward)

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Pros of having parents: You don’t have to pay for lunch Cons of having parents: Lunch is ration bars

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

If not for the laws of this galaxy I’d have a glowing sword to cut through durasteel with

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I love discovering I have a godfather who is also a pirate while being held hostage by said godfather. 5/10 experience

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have the power of the Force and Hydrospanners on my side!!!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Turns out HK-77’s programming was not as thoroughly deleted as I thought. My bad.

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

TIE-Fighters still suck. New video tomorrow together with @thatsaneatrick

“Hi!” The video showed a young blond man standing in what appeared to be a huge hanger. He was a little older than he had been in the last video uploaded on the channel.

Next to him sat an older man whose skin was as pale as ash. Many scars covered his face, the only part of his body that was actually visible. The rest was covered by dark robes. The third member of the group was another man with snow-white hair and beard. He sat in a safe distance from the ship behind the other two, reading through a datapad while drinking a cup of tea. All three of them carried lightsabers and it was practically impossible to ignore them.

“Welcome back to another episode of Scrap Hunting!” The blond continued. “I know, it’s been a year but I was pretty busy.”

He glanced at the man beside him and leaned slightly into his side, as if he were seeking comfort.

“Today we’re finally concluding our series ‘Tuning up your TIE-Fighter to prove you’re better than the bastard currently running the TIE-Fighter Program for fun and profit’. Unfortunately, the original TIE-Fighter was lost, but Father crashes so many that we could easily start from scratch with a new one. The focus of this episode is finally adding the safety that prevents the twin ion engines from moving an energizer out of alignment so that the recharge systems won’t become ticking time bombs. Henceforth, we dedicate this episode to Darth Sidious, alias Emperor Palpatine. My name is Luke Skywalker. The man in the back is my Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi-“ The old man looked up from his datapad to wave at the camera and then continued on reading “-and my helper today is my Father.”

Luke paused and smiled softly while the scarred man put his hand on Luke’s shoulder. The gesture seemed almost a little possessive, would certainly be like it if the man’s touch weren’t as gentle as a feather.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker,” the man said, his blue eyes shining as brightly as Luke’s, but much colder in nature. “And I’m coming for you, Sidious.”

The video flashed black, then brightened again, depicting a round emblem of two wings settled around a sword.

#star wars #Luke Skywalker #darth vader #Anakin Skywalker #biggs darklighter #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #memes and vine references

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yellowmagicalgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Destiny’s Pawn

Douxie wants to never meet his soulmate. Krel isn't about to go searching for his own soulmate. Despite not realizing the meaning behind the names on their wrists, they meet anyways.

*slams a 38 page word document onto the nearest flat surface*

Here you go!

Content warning: This fic is rated M on AO3 and FFN for graphic depictions of bloody violence, dissociation, and panic attacks. In addition, this fic also contains dismemberment, mind control, suicidal ideation, minor character death, sleep deprivation, stress positions, and descriptions of poor medical practices.

AO3

FFN

Douxie is fourteen and sitting at his kitchen table, eating a bowl of instant ramen. This month has been going well. He’s been making new friends, one of whom is even a fellow wizard, he’s adjusting to the new time period, he hasn’t gone into any states of eerie numbness where he suddenly has no control of himself and commits violent acts, and it’s been a while since he has last had any flashbacks to Camlann. So, naturally, fate decides to make itself known once more and curse him with another prophecy.

Douxie is able to set his ramen down without spilling or burning himself when his right wrist explodes into light. Cyan light, to be specific, not the exact shade of blue that Douxie’s magic always seems to take.

Douxie doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to look, and yet he does. He has a soulmate, and he doesn’t want one. He ran away from his kingdom (further than he had intended, admittedly) and changed his name because he was sick of being destiny’s pawn, and yet destiny is still deciding to use him. And he laughs, mirthlessly.

At least the name of his soulmate isn’t a name that Douxie can read. He’s not even sure if it’s a human language, and Douxie doubts that the Trollish script has changed so much since he learned it as a child. Douxie isn’t even sure if he believes that aliens exist, not when magic is real and everyone else thinks that magic isn’t real. However, if his soulmate is an alien then that’s a good thing. The chances of Douxie ever meeting his soulmate are impossibly low. Douxie won’t have to worry about one day meeting his soulmate and having to push the guy away so the two of them don’t get hurt.

Douxie gets up and walks from his kitchen table to his dresser. It takes a while to open his top drawer, but it always takes a while. The wood’s warped, which is probably why the original owners got rid of it. When he finally gets it open, it doesn’t take long for him to find the two leather bracelets he had worn when he was younger. They’re slightly small on him, now, and Douxie will want to find a better replacement if he wants to keep the blood flowing in his right hand, but they cover up the name of his soulmate quite well.

No one will have to know. Not his classmates, not the guys in the band who’s name they still can’t decide on, and not Zoe and her talking cat, who will probably ask three times as many questions as everyone else.

Krel’s not sure when he started being jealous of his older sister. Maybe it’s when they started using serrators and Aja took to them so easily, and Papa seemed to value Aja’s skill at fighting more than Krel’s engineering feats. Which, admittedly, weren’t that good at that age, but they were children back then. Krel was still a genius compared to everyone his age, and everyone who was Aja’s age. And yes, Aja isn’t that much older than him, but considering how much she tries to lord it over him it may as well count.

Krel will admit that in the past three delsons since his wrist exploded into pale blue light, he has gotten much more jealous of his sister.

Krel thinks that Aja is very lucky. Aja’s soulmate is an Akiridion, and that makes things easier for her. Sure, Aja’s soulmate isn’t an Akiridion from a royal house, and it would technically be a scandal if Aja married her soulmate, who would be an ordinary Akiridion. Or, it would be an even bigger scandal if Aja’s soulmate was a Taylon. That doesn’t matter to Krel.

Aja doesn’t have Mama and Papa talking behind her back in hushed tones that sometimes cut out the moment anyone comes near. Aja doesn’t have Mama and Papa talking behind her back, trying to find the planet where the strange symbols on Krel’s lower right wrist are actually a name. Aja doesn’t have Mama and Papa talking behind her back about how maybe Krel’s interplanetary soulmate can be a way that Akiridion-V and this mystery planet can have an alliance. Aja may be older than him and technically just as much the heir to the throne as Krel is, but Aja is less of a political pawn than Krel is.

Krel can’t help but wonder if Mama and Papa actually love each other, or at least, if they loved each other when they got married. He can’t help but wonder if their marriage is, or at least was, entirely political. His parents are soulmates, and their marriage ended the feud between House Ventis and House Akraohm.

Krel doesn’t want to have to marry his soulmate for power, or to put an end to a fight.

Douxie will readily admit, dubstep and dolphin noises aren’t his thing, when it comes to music. He prefers emo, alternative rock, alternative metal, electronic rock, hard rock, industrial rock, the occasional pop rock and emo pop, gothic rock, symphonic metal, and hardcore punk. And, of course, trying to recreate lute music from his childhood on an electric guitar.

But the guy on stage, the one making or at least DJ-ing the dubstep? He’s mesmerizing. And not just because Douxie knows that Ash Dispersal Pattern actually has competition for once. There’s the way his eyes light up, and the way his hair falls in waves all the way down to his chin. The way the lights bounce off the guy is beautiful.

Maybe, after the battle is over, Douxie can find the guy, and…

Right. Douxie’s never really known how to talk to people, and even though he’s been slowly trying to memorize the social cues of this century he still feels like he’s even worse at talking to people than he was as a child. And that’s all without factoring in the fact that Douxie is even worse at talking to cute guys. He’s been told that he apparently flirts with girls, which really isn’t how he wants to come off, and yet he doesn’t know how to flirt with guys. It’s frustrating.

Douxie tries to think of ways he can maybe talk to the guy. Talking about music will probably be his best chance. And talking about music will be even on topic, not just awkwardly rambling because classmates expect him to make small talk.

And then, a girl wearing purple armor walks onto the stage. It’s Claire. She looks better than Douxie can remember seeing her, though considering that their track record has put Claire as possessed, sick, or on the verge of a mental breakdown anything is better. But, while tense, she looks… assured. Powerful.

She looks like how a wizard should, which honestly makes a lot of sense in hindsight.

Douxie has never figured out how to use his magic to open a telepathic link, but as he whistles and gives Claire two thumbs up he tries to communicate as much as he silently can to her. He’s like her. He understands what she’s going through. He can help her to understand her powers. He can introduce her to people, well, a girl and a cat that are like Claire and Douxie.

Claire starts to speak, and Douxie realizes that Claire’s armor is familiar. Familiar, like the more important knights, knights whose armor was enchanted to be more protective. Familiar, like his aunt. Familiar, like Merlin.

Douxie can’t ruminate on what this could mean, because the sun goes dark and there are Gumm-Gumms.

When the battle (the real battle, not just the Battle of the Bands) is over, Douxie is aware of three things. His skills have deteriorated in the three years since he fought his – in the years since he last used his magic to fight anyone. He was also unable to talk to Claire or the guy who did the dubstep.

Well, Arcadia Oaks is a small enough town. Hopefully he’ll be able to talk to one or both of them over the summer.

Krel waits until his sister and the other Akiridions are gone. He waits until Steve and Toby and AAARRRGGHH!!! are doing… something else. He waits until he can be sure that Ricky and Lucy are so engrossed in unpacking that they won’t follow him down into his lab. And then, he lets himself cry. It’s stupid. Crying hurts, and it makes him feel weak.

Krel remembers what Mother had said about crying when it first happened to Aja, and he just cries harder. He misses his parents, and he misses Mother. He misses his sister, and Varvatos, and they’re not dead. They’ve just gone back to Akiridion-V, where Aja is actually attending her own coronation as queen. Krel knows that his parents would have wanted him to attend. They would have wanted a lot of things for him, and Krel isn’t sure if he’ll be able to fulfill any of them.

Krel wipes his eyes with his wrist. It’s funny. His human form doesn’t have a name on either of his wrists indicating a soulmate, even though Krel’s soulmate is human. Probably. His soulmate could be a changeling, but his soulmate being human is more likely. Krel’s almost sure that Mother thought that by not giving them soulmates, they’d be even closer to invisible on Earth, especially Aja and Varvatos.

Krel has a good feeling as to what the name on his lower right wrist sounds like, and he could probably hack into the various governments of Earth, searching until he found out just who Mordred Pendragon is. Krel doesn’t do that, though. He wasn’t in any rush to find his soulmate during the three keltons between receiving the name and coming to Earth, and he isn’t in any rush to do so now. He’s seen the way Aja and Steve act around each other, and he doesn’t think he wants that right now. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever want that.

“Hey Krel?” Ricky calls. “Ship’s no going to clean itself.”

“Not yet, anyways!” Lucy says.

Krel sighs and goes to help clean.

Douxie supposes that it was probably better to be safe than sorry when it comes to fighting off whatever great evil is going to attempt to end the world for the fourth time this summer. Still, he doesn’t like the idea of being involved in one of Archie’s prophecies. The only saving grace is that if he has to be caught between two different fates, then at least he can fight off the worse of the two. Still, it’s annoying. Toby keeps on pestering Douxie and Zoe, asking them about how magic works and why the two of them haven’t tried to help out more, as if they haven’t been busy at their own school.

Well, what is he supposed to say? “I helped make your friend’s amulet” may be true, but it’ll reveal too many things about Douxie’s past. Too many things that Douxie has been trying not to think about.

No matter how reluctantly, Douxie, Archie, and Zoe have been working with Steve, Toby, and AAARRRGGHH!!! for the better part of four hours. The past several minutes have been consumed by fighting the first of the many foes that Archie has foretold. Specifically, it’s a group of constructs, suits of armor made of wood, crystal, and metal.

The fight could be going much better. Zoe doesn’t seem to have much combat experience, or at least, she keeps on picking the wrong spells to use on the various constructs. Douxie himself has decided to just use simple shielding spells with his left hand and to manifest a sleek black dagger in his right hand.

Parry. Sidestep. Advance. Douxie scoffs as the wooden construct dodges out of the way. A part of him knows that using a sword like the ones he trained with as a child will have a better reach, but the mere thought of using one causes him to lose his footing. The construct lunges.

It is consumed by cyan light.

Douxie looks up, and his lips part slightly in a gasp. He, just like the rest of Arcadia Oaks, has been made aware that extraterrestrials exist. However, he hasn’t seen any of them up close. No one has told Douxie that they are so beautiful.

The boy jumps off the floating skateboard, and both it and the gun he is holding collapse into themselves.

“Sorry for being late, the Blanks wanted me to help clean and didn’t let me use my phone.”

“Just had to play the big hero, right?” Steve asks the Akiridion.

“No, without Mother the ship isn’t repairing itself the way it used to.”

Zoe gives Douxie a pointed look, and he stops staring at… honestly, Douxie isn’t sure what the Akiridon boy’s name is.

Something inside of him tells him he should be cautious. He ignores that feeling; it must be fear from the world being supposedly about to end.

Though, as he complains to Zoe, it’s really not fair that Krel is so beautiful in both forms.

“Hand me the ixvali,” Krel said. While they would never be able to replace Mother herself, the repairs on the mother ship were almost done after half a parson, give or take a couple delsons. Well, time and the unexpected outside help.

“That one’s the half-monkey wrench, half swage looking tool, right?” Krel looks over at Douxie. For the briefest of moments, they make eye contact, but Douxie looks slightly away before it can become uncomfortable. But he does not fully turn his head to look away like he often does. There is a soft smile on Douxie’s face as he looks at Krel. For some reason, this makes Krel’s digestive organs flutter in a way that is uncomfortable and confusing but not painful.

Douxie is holding out the correct tool. In his right hand, not through levitation like he often does when people who don’t know that Douxie is a wizard aren’t around. Douxie had once mentioned that certain textures make him tense, which Krel understands. He feels the same way around random sounds, sometimes, which is why he often uses headphones when working. But he isn’t using any today.

Though, Krel has no idea why Douxie thinks the ixvali looked like one of the less intelligent of Earth’s native species.

Krel takes the ixvali from Douxie, and his fingertips brush against Douxie’s skin as he does so. The places where Krel’s skin meets Douxie’s tingle even after Krel removes them, and as Krel turns away his face feels slightly warm.

“You’re pretty good at this. Engineering, that is,” Krel says, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. He watches Douxie from the corner of his eye. “Where’d you learn?”

Douxie’s smile falls into a scowl, and for some strange reason with it so does Krel’s core. “An old friend of my father’s taught me. I cut contact with him a long time ago, though. After he betrayed my aunt.”

“I’m sorry.”

Douxie blinks a couple times. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

Douxie doesn’t like fighting knights. Likewise, he doesn’t like that they’re fighting Merlin. It brings back way too many bad memories of death and betrayal. Then again, even the good memories are tainted by Camlann, so he tries not to think about his past in general. There are reasons why he goes by a false name, after all.

But, if he doesn’t fight Merlin’s knights then his friends will have to fight them without him. It could be hubris, but Douxie is pretty sure that without him his friends will be badly injured or worse. And they will wonder why he didn’t defend him, which will lead to suspicion and questions, and…

It’s better that he just swallows his bile and panic in order to stand at his friends’ sides and fight.

Advance. Parry. Lunge. Keep an eye out for Toby, who’s been slightly off his game ever since AAARRRGGHH!!! left to help the other trolls several days ago.

As he stabs his dagger between the knight’s rerebrace and pauldron, the knight swings his flail into Zoe’s unarmored stomach. Douxie winces as she goes flying; he twists his dagger so the knight’s pain will increase.

And a beam of water crashes into the knight. Douxie dismisses his dagger into the aether as the knight gets pushed back. Let the water stimulate blood flow, for all he cares.

Douxie looks towards the source of the water, and his jaw drops slightly. Zoe’s ears and fingers are webbed, and there are iridescent scales on her face and arms. She reminds him of someone he hasn’t seen in years. Technically over a millennium, if he counts the years he wasn’t around for.

The knight crushes an emerald between his armored fingers, allowing him to escape back to wherever Merlin is hiding.

“You’re not human, either?” Krel asks.

Zoe wraps her arms around herself, her shoulders drawing in like she’s trying to make herself smaller than she already is. Like she’s embarrassed about her appearance or scared of someone’s reaction. Except, this time she seems to be scared of Douxie and the others.

“No, I’m…” She looks at her feet. “Archie can probably explain it better. Shit, he’s gonna be so mad. I’m the Lady of the Lake. Well, the latest one, anyways.”

Douxie remembers the first Lady of the Lake. Personally, he likes Zoe better.

Now would be a good time to tell people about his past. To reassure Zoe that she’s not alone in having magic from a kingdom that no longer exists.

“Cool,” he says instead.

The stars are very different from home. It makes sense. It’s a different number of lightyears for each different type of starlight to reach Earth than it is for Akiridion-V. The two worlds also have different amounts of light pollution.

Krel and Douxie sit in a comfortable silence, staring at the stars and listening to the water in the pool lap against the walls. Not that talking to Douxie is uncomfortable. Quite the opposite. With both humans and Akiridions, there is always some barrier between Krel and communicating with them. While that barrier still exists with Douxie, it is so much lower than with most humans.

It has been three delsons since they and Toby and Steve learned the truth about Zoe and comforted her and told her cat that he could trust them, that unlike previous incarnations’ so-called friends they would protect her. It has been three weeks since Krel decided to stay on Earth and met Douxie. The only work left for the mothership is to wait for the new AI to install itself. It won’t be Mother. It’ll be less sapient, and it will take keltons for the AI to be anywhere near Mother’s level. But the ship has been rebuilt as it ever will be able to, in the aftermath of Morando’s attack.

Douxie inhales, sharp and loud, and grabs Krel’s hand. Douxie’s hand is calloused and slightly damp from sweat. The contact feels like when Krel has accidentally electrocuted himself, except for how it inspires no fear. If anything, it’s comforting.

Krel looks at Douxie. In the low light, Krel can barely make out that Douxie’s face is red.

“I, uh, I don’t know how to say this because even though I feel like I don’t have to adhere to a script and social cues as much around you both of those would be helpful right now because I have a crush on you and I understand if you don’t feel the same but I just wanted to tell you,” Douxie says quickly, glancing at Krel before looking around awkwardly, like he’s trying to find a way to escape.

Krel smiles and leans against Douxie, cherishing the way their arms brush together. He’s in his human form, so he can feel the blood rush to his own face, highlighting his cheeks in cyan. “I do. Feel the same the way, that is.”

It’s their first date. Or at least, Douxie thinks this might be their first date? Krel might not see it as a date, since his culture might have different rules for dating. He’s not even sure if he and Krel have technically been dating for the past less-than-forty-eight hours since they confessed their feelings for each other, or if dating starts with the first date. This is so different than what little he learned about courting when he was younger.

Last night he swiped a few mints from the bowl of them at the restaurant before leaving work. Really, it might’ve been more than a few, but the night was winding down anyways. He’s now crunching on one of them in apprehension as he waits for Krel to arrive. It’s a way to try and get rid of the nervous energy that fills his bones. Not for their intended purpose of making your mouth smell better and not taste like your last meal, for the purpose of talking or personal comfort or even kissing someone after the date ends.

Douxie feels himself blush at the idea of kissing Krel. Holding Krel’s hand is intense and Douxie isn’t ready for their relationship to go quickly. They haven’t even talked much about how they want this to progress, or if they’re going to do anything to make their relationship official – do Akiridions even have the concept of making a relationship official?

Douxie wipes his palms on his jeans again. It’s the end of July, and once more he is reconsidering his choice to have nothing in his modern wardrobe but the color black aside from three band shirts, one of which he uses for sleeping. At the very least, maybe he should have left his hoodie at home. He hates the cold, because the cold reminds him all too much of Camlann, but it’s almost never cold in July and August except for in air-conditioned buildings, and this one isn’t.

At the very least, if he wore less black, maybe his hands would be sweating less. Or maybe it’d be the same, because he’s nervous and Krel is running late. It’s only late by thirteen minutes, but Douxie is already anxious. At least no one is giving him a weird look for sitting here alone, not having ordered anything, like he knows that people

Douxie once more checks his phone. There’s nothing. No Krel changing his mind, and no frantic texts from friends who have been attacked and need backup. No magical notifications of knights or constructs, either. He sets his phone to sleep but doesn’t shove it in his pocket. He tries not to worry as he scans his surroundings.

The coffee shop is quiet. There are a couple other people, and some annoying pop song is playing, but other than that it’s quiet. It’s late morning on a weekday, and this coffee shop has never been as popular as the chain one a block away with a drive thru.

Douxie unlocks his phone again, and scowls down at it. Why did he make the pattern so complicated to draw when only using one hand to both hold and unlock his phone?

Someone taps Douxie’s shoulder, and he looks up.

It’s Krel. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, but strands all over have fallen out. He’s beautiful.

“Sorry I’m late,” Krel says, out of breath.

“It’s fine,” Douxie says, his scowl quickly fading into a smile. He rises from his seat, and the two of them go to stand in line to order drinks.

Seven minutes later, the two of the are sitting once more. Krel is telling a story from his childhood as he dumps his third and final sugar packet into his otherwise black coffee. “And then Luug came running in and tripped up Loth Saborian. Oh, uh, Luug’s mine and Aja’s pet soolian. Well, he’s more Aja’s than mine.”

“I thought he was her dog.” Douxie took a sip of his chai to try and cover up his awkward expression as he realized what he just said. “Though I guess that’s what your sister called him to blend in when he got loose?”

“Yeah, plus his transduction is a dog, though he wasn’t transducted when he swallowed my prototype. Um, that was when she was chasing him all over town. Did you ever have any pets?”

“My father had a dog when I was growing up; his name was Cavall. Which I found odd growing up, since his name meant horse. And, like, he was a hunting hound? Or at least he was before I was born, but he was getting old. But, I had thought it could get confusing. Maybe it was just me, though. So, anyways, what happened after Luug tripped your parents’ advisor?”

Twenty-seven horvaths after their date, Krel still feels oddly buoyant. He wonders if Douxie feels the same way.

Douxie is off working at his job at the bistro, and the rest of them are hanging out with Zoe as she works at the record store. She had poked him in the shoulder and told him not to shoplift, with a smile on her face. Krel had rolled his eyes, and now he is looking through the various albums while the others talk. If he finds an album with an interesting title, or even a song with an interesting title, he plays it on his phone, the volume low and muffled by his hand because he didn’t bring his headphones and earbuds feel so weird. It’s like research.

Toby sighs. “I hope I get my soulmate’s name soon. I’m pretty sure I’m, like, one out of the only three, maybe four, people in our year who doesn’t have one.”

“I mean, does Darci have her soulmate’s name yet?” Steve asks.

“No, she’s one of the other three to four people in our year,” Toby says, “but we also haven’t spoken much in the past week since she’s on vacation the other side of the planet right now. And she’s a couple months older than me.”

Krel glances at his oddly bare wrist as he looks up a band called Starset on his phone. He doesn’t want to meet Mordred Pendragon, whoever or wherever he is. Krel is very happy with Douxie, and he doesn’t want to meet his soulmate.

“Dude, I doubt she’ll break up with you even if it turns out that she has a soulmate who isn’t a huge furry.” Toby punches Steve in the arm.

“I mean, does it matter if you have a soulmate?” Zoe pipes up. “I mean, I don’t have one. Though, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m aro, or well, I’ve already got a mark on my arm stating my destiny.”

“Okay, but like, aren’t platonic soulmates a thing?” Toby asks. “And multiple?”

“Yeah, but studies have shown that aro-spec people have a higher tendency to not have soulmates than alloromantic people,” Zoe says. Krel wonders if this is true across species, or if he’s in the minority of demiromantics. “Also, multiple soulmates are, like really rare. Plus, I don’t want one anyways?”

“Hey, if you get your arm cut off above your tattoo thing, would you lose all your magic?” Steve asks, rubbing at where Eli’s name is on his wrist.

Zoe blinks a couple times, her voice lowering in volume. “Don’t know, don’t let Archie hear you say that; why do you ask?”

“Well, there’s the superstition that if you cut off the wrist that has your soulmate’s name, they’re no longer your soulmate,” Steve says in a low voice

“I mean, are we sure that wasn’t just something made up to dehumanize people who’d lost hands?” Toby asks.

Zoe shrugs. “Trust me, I don’t specialize in soul-based magic, and if I try Archie will never let me hear the end of it because it’s dark. But, yeah, I have no idea what magic goes on when it comes to lost hands and soulmates.”

Merlin has sent another knight after them along with a trio of constructs. This knight does not wear a helmet, so Douxie can see the knight’s identity. It’s Caradoc, but he seems strangely younger than how Douxie remembers. Maybe it’s the lack of stress from no longer having to run a kingdom. Maybe Camlann and everything that came after had been good for Caradoc and the kingdom of Gwent.

Douxie remembers being told when he was young that Camelot protected the other kingdoms from Gumm-Gumms and dark wizards, and yet despite that, many opposed it because its king had grown up under the care of a minor lord. Caradoc had been one of those in opposition, and Douxie had been told to remain cautious about him. Except, he hadn’t yet been Douxie then.

“Hand over Mordred,” Caradoc says, “and I’ll let most of you kids go.”

Douxie is keenly aware of the way sweat drips down the back of his neck as Toby and Steve give each other confused glances, Krel raises an eyebrow, and Zoe narrows her eyes.

“Who’s Mordred?” Steve asks. The sound of distant traffic covers Douxie’s relieved sigh as he realizes that none of them associate him with that name.

Krel shifts his serrator into its gun form, and Zoe sends a wall of water towards Caradoc. Douxie summons a dagger and a shield before he charges towards Caradoc.

Parry. Dodge. Parry. Lunge. Parry. Thrust. Adjust footing. Douxie focuses entirely on the fight in a way that would be dangerous if anyone else wanted to attack him.

Parry. Thrust. Adjust shielding spell. Douxie focuses on the fight, because if he allows himself to think about anything else his mind will focus on things that are dangerous to think about. Things like Camlann, and the three hazy days that followed where Merlin revealed the lengths he was willing to go to fight the Gumm-Gumms.

As Douxie’s dagger clashes against Caradoc’s sword, their eyes meet. Caradoc grabs Douxie’s shoulder, prolonging the painful eye contact.

“Should I tell them, or have you already told them, Mordred?” Caradoc says in a low voice. Douxie feels pressure wrap around his skull and numbness settle into his bone. “And should the Lady of the Lake find out before she dies?”

Mordred doesn’t think as he releases the shielding spell and flicks his fingers in the right way to summon a burst of bright blue light to distract Caradoc enough that Mordred can escape his grip. It’s muscle memory to change his dagger into a sword. Before either of them can recover, Mordred rams his sword up through Caradoc’s chest, using magic to bypass Caradoc’s armor.

Mordred dismisses the sword and lets Caradoc’s body fall. He has forgotten what it is like for another person’s blood to soak into his clothing. It is warm, too warm, warm enough that an icy coldness settles into the rest of his body. He was able to forget, to think that every time he woke up screaming and soaked in his own sweat that it was as bad as when he was covered in his father’s blood, but this is so. Much. Worse.

“First kill?” Toby asks, and Mordred can’t tell if his voice is suspicious or sympathetic. This is not Mordred’s first time killing another human being. This is the first time he has killed another human when he feels like his body and mind mostly belong to him.

Mordred hopes his trembling approximates to the proper kind of nod. He takes a few steps towards his friends, but he then turns away so he can violently expel the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush. He appreciates the way Krel grabs Mordred’s bangs and holds them away from Mordred’s face, even if his boyfriend looks disgusted. Hopefully by the vomit and not the fact that Mordred just killed someone. He isn’t even sure if it was entirely to save his best friend or to save himself from everyone else’s judgement. Maybe he didn’t have to kill Caradoc. He could have incapacitated him. Maybe.

Mordred stands up, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and grimaces. “I’m going to go home and get ready for work,” he says quickly. Hopefully not too quickly. His friends give him what he hopes are sympathetic looks, and he runs off.

He locks himself in his apartment and rips off his soiled clothes. He brushes his teeth to get rid of the taste of vomit as he waits for the water to heat up; while he wants to be free from the feeling of blood on him he doesn’t want to be cold, because being cold means the memories of stabbing through his father’s chest will feel so much more real because Mordred had been cold when he killed his father.

Mordred removes his watch and his bracelets before he tests the water’s temperature with one hand. As he does so, the cyan writing that has been on the inside of his wrist for three years catches his eye. He has spent enough time with Krel to know that the script is Akiridion. Something between a maniacal laugh and a pitiful sob bursts from his lips. He loves Krel. Krel can’t be his soulmate, though, because a soulmate is another prophecy, and the last prophecy involving Mordred didn’t end well. It ended in him dissociating into a state of eerie numbness where he couldn’t control his body and he killed his father by stabbing him through the chest. Just like he stabbed Caradoc through the chest.

But, but Krel had mentioned that while the population of Akiridion-V is smaller than Earth, the amount of Akiridions in the universe is about four and a half times the number of humans. And Akiridions aren’t the only ones who used the Akiridion script. So, it is entirely possible that Krel isn’t Mordred’s soulmate. It’s possible that fate won’t make Mordred kill Krel.

Mordred finishes undressing and enters the shower, twisting his body to soak up as much heat as possible. Because he hasn’t stopped trembling, he can’t tell if he’s sobbing or if soap has just gotten in his eyes.

When Douxie finally exits the shower once more, his skin is raw from scrubbing, heat, and in some areas just how much he had scratched at it, trying to escape the phantom feeling of someone else’s blood.

“Are you alright?” Krel softly asks his boyfriend as the two of them meet up in front of Zoe’s house. “After everything that happened yesterday?”

“Yeah,” Douxie says as he stares at the sidewalk. “Well, I’ve been better, but I’m doing better than yesterday.”

Krel squeezes Douxie’s hand once before dropping it as they step through the door. The two of them are the last to arrive. Steve, Toby, and Zoe are talking in hushed voices, but they stop before Krel can hear what they’re saying. Archie bats at one of Douxie’s shoelaces, nearly tripping them. They take their seats at Zoe’s kitchen table. It’s cramped, and the chairs don’t match, like normally there are only three chairs.

“Okay, so, Mordred,” Zoe says. “A basic Wikipedia search will tell you he’s the son of King Arthur, and he grew up to kill Arthur at a place called Camlann. But that’s where things start to go awry. Mordred practically killed Arthur in cold blood, and he was also Merlin’s apprentice, which means that he should be an enemy of ours. Except, we don’t know where he is, and I don’t think Merlin knows where he is either.” She turns in her chair towards Archie. “Uh, am I missing any details?”

Douxie twists his skull pendant on its string.

Archie raises his head from his bowl of cat food and swallows before speaking. “Mordred did everything he’s infamous for prior to my birth, so it’s not like I can provide you with fine details. Oh, stop giving me that look, I’m not that ancient. But, your memories from the first Lady of the Lake are more accurate.” Archie walks over to the table and hops on top of it. “The one thing I can tell you is that soon after killing Arthur, Mordred disappeared. In fact, until you came to me with this information, I had thought he was dead. And if he’s alive, then why hasn’t he come out of hiding until now?”

Krel flips the clasp to his watch back and forth, trying not to cringe.

“Okay, but why would that knight have thought he was with us?” Steve asks.

Toby shrugs. “Maybe Merlin thinks Mordred turned against him and took refuge with us? I mean, about half of our oldest troll allies – in terms of being on our side, mind you – all tried to kill me and… and Jim, at one point or another.”

Douxie sits up straight. He stares very intently at where some dishes are drying. “I mean, maybe we can use this against Merlin? I mean, maybe Merlin did something that made, er, Mordred turn against him. And maybe Mordred is so against Merlin that, that he’d be willing to work with. Us.”

Everyone stares at Douxie before Zoe clears her throat. “Are you forgetting the whole ‘killed his dad in cold blood’ thing? We wouldn’t be able to trust Mordred not to kill us in the hypothetical scenario that he hates Merlin.”

Douxie slouches down into his chair, twisting one of the white strings of his hoodie between his fingers.

“Hey, what’s Mordred’s family name?” Krel asks slowly, using his right hand to twist the watch on his left hand.

“Pendragon,” Zoe says. “Why?”

Krel sighs. “Mordred Pendragon is my soulmate.”

Douxie inhales sharply.

Toby makes a disgusted face that quickly turns into confusion. “Wait, but you don’t have a name on your wrist. Or is it under your watch?”

Krel pulls out his serrator and changes back into his Akiridion form. “It’s just not on my human form.” He rolls up his lower right sleeve to expose his soulmate’s name. Zoe, Toby, Steve, and Archie all lean in to stare at it with morbid curiosity. Douxie stays sitting the exact same way he has been, but one of his eyelids twitches.

“Could we, I don’t know, track him through Krel?” Toby asks. Douxie pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it. Krel finds it sweet that Douxie’s home screen is a picture of Krel.

“Dark. Magic,” Zoe and Archie say in unison. Douxie opens his texting app but does not exit from the groupchat that five teenagers sitting at this table use.

“Hey, uh, my manager wants me to come in early today, I need to go,” Douxie says. He leaves too quickly for Krel to call him out on his lie.

Krel finds him hours later, during Douxie’s actual shift at GDT Arcane Books.

Mordred sighs. He doesn’t want to do this. He has to do this to save Krel’s life. Behind the counter, he casts a quick illusory spell.

“You didn’t need to come in early,” Krel says. “I saw your phone.”

Mordred stays silent.

“Why’d you lie about it?” Krel asks. “Are you – is this because you’re not my soulmate?”

“Yes.” No, quite the opposite. He is Krel’s soulmate. While unrequited soulmates do exist, it is far more likely that Krel is Mordred’s soulmate. Which means that Krel is in danger. Prophecy and Mordred put together is dangerous.

“Look, I knew you weren’t my soulmate when we got together, so why does it matter?”

“It, it does.”

“You’re being really petty. And shallow.” Krel’s voice raises with each word.

“Okay. Are you done?”

“Well, do you have anything to say?”

“I made a mistake.” Krel’s face softens, and Mordred forces venom into his own voice even though he doesn’t want to hurt Krel. “I should have never fallen for you. And had I known the truth about you and, you and Mordred, I would have never let myself fall for you.”

Krel’s glare returns with a vengeance. “I can’t believe you. When Merlin’s defeated, I never want to speak to you again!”

As Krel storms out of the bookstore, Mordred releases the spell that he used to hide the tears in his eyes.

Krel wants to just lie on his bed and read through old blueprints with a recording of the common sounds of Akiridion-V playing in the background. He wants to lose himself in engineering, so he won’t have to think about Douxie and Mordred. Technically, he had just wanted to lay on his bed face-down when he had gotten home, but Krel has found that doing so doesn’t stimulate his brain enough and without stimulation all of his thoughts go to his now-ex-boyfriend.

But his phone gives him an alert. He’s getting a call from Akiridion-V. And so, with a groan, he drags himself out of his bed and into the lower portion of the Mothership, where the video call center is.

“Hi, Krel!” Aja says. She looks exhausted, but she is still so cheerful that some of Krel’s own misery fades away.

“Hi. How’s life as queen?”

“Busy. So, so, so very busy. I wish I had listened more to Mama and Papa.” She looks away from him, face falling.

“Me, too,” Krel says softly. It’s not hard for him to believe they’ve been dead for so long, though. Aside from the few short moments, they had been reduced to their cores. They had been practically dead, and the mourning wasn’t as hard. But Krel isn’t constantly surrounded by reminders of his parents. He has other things to worry about, like –

No, Krel is not thinking about his ex right now.

“It doesn’t help that some of the lesser royal houses think that I’m not ready, considering that I ran away from the first coronation.”

“Yeah, you kind of brought that on yourself.”

“But, anyways, enough about me,” Aja says, her smile returning. “You had some non-urgent but important good news a couple delsons ago? And I’m sorry I didn’t have time before, but I do now!”

Krel feels his own face fall. “I… I had wanted to tell you that I had a boyfriend, but, he broke up with me two horvaths ago.”

“Oh, Krel, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to come back and beat him up for you?”

“No, I handled it. I just… before today, he’s never been so shallow. He broke up with me because he found out I’m not his soulmate.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to beat him up for you? Or send Varvatos to do so?”

“No, Aja. By the way, have you told Steve about your own soulmate? And speaking of him, how is Varvatos?”

Parry. Adjust footing. Advance. Shove phone back into hoodie pocket because that was a stupid place for Douxie to put his phone when he knew he was running towards a fight. Step out of the way for Zoe to get the finishing blow.

“Anyone else think that construct was oddly weak?” Steve asks. The five of them are crowded into one of Arcadia’s alleys, having gotten up relatively early to go fight it. Krel had given Douxie a murderous glare, and afterwards had just ignored Douxie.

Mordred is very tempted to beg for Krel’s forgiveness, but no. It’s safer this way. If they don’t spend time together, the likelihood of Mordred killing his soulmate goes down.

“Don’t you dare jinx us,” Toby says.

“I mean, Steve’s kind of –” Zoe starts before she gets blown back by a wave of magic. So do Krel, Steve, and Toby. Only Mordred is left standing.

Mordred, and Merlin, who drops the spell he was using to keep Mordred and the others from noticing him.

“Kneel,” Merlin commands.

A coldness spreads through Mordred’s limbs. He mindlessly walks forward, ready to follow this command and kneel in front of his master. Douxie shakes it off and breaks into a run. As he does so, his phone falls out of his hoodie pocket, but he pays it no mind.

Mordred attempts to stab Merlin with his dagger, but Merlin parries with the Staff of Avalon. Glowing green ropes force Mordred into a kneeling position.

Mordred looks behind himself. Scales are flickering on and off of Zoe’s skin, and the construct has come back to life and is trying to entrap her within it. Everyone else is trying to pry her out. Mordred fights against his bonds, trying to escape them so he can help Zoe.

“For all of his faults,” Merlin says, “your father never lost the humility that came with not having been raised a prince. Unlike you, Mordred.”

In the background, one of his friends – or at least, former friends, now that they know – gasps.

Upon hearing his name, Mordred tries to hang his head in shame. Merlin places the Staff of Avalon under Mordred’s chin and forces Mordred to look at Merlin. Mordred tries to avoid his former master’s gaze, but Merlin helped to raise Mordred. Merlin knows how Mordred will try to avoid eye contact by faking it, by looking at people’s eyebrows, forehead, cheeks, or nose. Merlin knows that Mordred finds prolonged eye contact painful, and so he’s using this against Mordred.

Mordred hears Toby exclaim something, and footsteps behind him, but he can’t make them out any further due to the ringing in his ears.

Merlin removes his staff from under Mordred’s chin and slams the butt of it into the ground, sending the two of them away from the battle.

They make their way to Zoe’s house. Krel gets the feeling that everyone else is also reeling from the battle, if for possibly different reasons.

“Are you alright?” Archie asks, curling his body around Zoe’s legs. She picks up her familiar. She looks like she wants to hug him, but she holds him in front of her instead.

“Did. You. Know?” Zoe asks.

Archie nods gravely. “Yes, I warned you years ago about how Merlin will try to bind you if he ever found you. He did so to… to far too many of your predecessors. I am so glad you’re not imprisoned.”

“I… no, did you know that Douxie is Mordred?” She then hugs Archie to her chest. Her arms shake as she does so.

“He’s what?” Archie climbs to her shoulder and looks around at the four of them. “Again, I wasn’t born yet. If what your saying is true, then you met him before I did. Then again, the two of you always did act like cousins, so it makes sense. But where is he?”

“Merlin took him,” Toby says, one of his hands curling into a fist. With the other he takes Douxie’s phone out of his pocket and places it on the table. “And it’s not like we’ll be able to contact him.”

“It doesn’t make sense, though,” Zoe says, not really looking at any of them. “Mordred’s supposed to be bloodthirsty and back during freshman year Douxie nearly had a panic attack while trying to take care of me because I accidentally sliced my finger open.”

“Well, maybe Douxie isn’t Mordred and Merlin made a mistake by calling him that?” Krel offers. Douxie can’t be Mordred, because Mordred is Krel’s soulmate and Douxie broke up with Krel because Douxie isn’t Krel’s soulmate.

“How did Douxie respond to being called Mordred?” Archie asks. “Did he try to refute this at all.”

“No, he just kind of collapsed in on himself,” Zoe says.

Toby smiles weakly at Krel. “Well, at least your soulmate isn’t some creepy old dude who likes killing people?”

“But, he can’t be. If Douxie is Mordred, and he’s known that he’s Mordred, then why did he break up with me yesterday?”

“Wait, he broke up with you?” Toby asks.

“I told you two that they had gotten together, pay up,” Steve says.

“We never actually made that bet,” Zoe says.

“You three bet on us?” Krel is in his human form and he isn’t sure if he wants to cross his arms or put them on his hips.

“We didn’t agree to it,” Toby and Zoe say almost in unison.

“But anyways, he broke up with you?” Toby says.

“Yeah. Douxie was mad that Mordred is my soulmate. And it doesn’t seem like him to be so mad that he’s not my soulmate, but it makes more sense than him being mad that he is my soulmate and lying about it.”

They teleport to a fort with stone walls and floors. Jim walks up to them, movements stilted like a puppet. His eyes are glowing green.

“Take him to the antimagic cell for now while I prepare,” Merlin says.

Jim grabs Mordred by the collar of his shirt, forcing him to his feet. Jim then pushes Mordred to start walking down the hall.

Mordred’s hands tremble with a nervous energy. He narrows his eyes and begins to try to do the hand movements inherent to the first spell he ever cast. It’s more difficult to cast it in a stealthy fashion, considering that the first time he ever cast the spell he hadn’t even been trying to cast spells. He hadn’t even known he was a wizard back then; he was just a three-year-old who would flap his hands whenever he got excited, and that day he had managed to flap them in such a way that caused his magic to ignite.

After slightly less than a minute, Mordred’s hands erupt into balls of blue fire. Unfortunately, Jim does not startle from this. Instead, he just pulls a dagger from his armor and hold it to Mordred’s throat. Mordred lets the fireballs dissipate into nothingness.

“Okay, I won’t do that,” Douxie says. “But seriously, Jim, you need to fight this. I know we don’t know each other that well, but surely you don’t want to be doing this?”

Jim remains mind controlled as he throws Mordred into the antimagic cell. Literally throws. Mordred knows he’s going to have bruises from the impact.

The cell door swings closed quickly, but an armored hand catches it. It’s not Jim. It’s the knight that had hit Zoe with a flail, forcing her to reveal the source of her magic. He’s not wearing his helmet.

“Agravaine?” Mordred says, forcing himself to sit up even though it will likely be more comfortable to continue lying on the floor. He wonders if he hit his head, because his cousin is apparently still alive after all these centuries. “You changed your armor.”

“You know, I thought you were finally starting to get smart, when you killed your father and all that,” Agravaine says. “Clearly you’re still a dumb kid.”

“Are Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth still alive?” Mordred asks. Agravaine scowls, like it’s Mordred’s fault that he had found his other three Orkney cousins more interesting and fun to be around when he was growing up. Personally, Mordred had liked Agravaine better than their cousin Ywain le Fay, but if Agravaine is working for Merlin then Ywain is now his second-to-least favorite cousin on his father’s side.

“No,” Agravaine says. “Gareth and Gaheris were killed by Gumm-Gumms. Gawain, on the other hand, he made the mistake of opposing Merlin.” Agravaine lets go of the cell door, letting it continue swinging close. “But if it’s any help, I’m sure Merlin has a better use for you than death.”

“Just, why didn’t he tell us?” Zoe asks.

“I think he tried,” Steve says. Everyone looks towards him. “Yesterday, Douxie tried to get us to believe that maybe Mordred would be willing to help us.”

“He was stuttering a lot,” Archie says.

“Exactly!” Steve says. “I mean, without any proof his idea of Mordred being on our side sounded kind of crazy, but I think he was trying to, you know, test the waters? See if it was safe to reveal himself? Kind of like how Aja did with me. And we completely blew it. Now, him being weird and breaking up with you for being his soulmate while claiming the opposite, I’m getting a headache just thinking about it, but everything else? I think he was trying to get us to help and we didn’t help him.”

Zoe sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Krel nods in agreement.

“I’m going to call Claire,” Toby says. “Let her know what to look out for, see if she has any intel, see how she, Blinky, and my Wingman are doing when it comes to protecting the trolls from Merlin. See how she’s healing from Merlin cutting off her hand – I hope Merlin doesn’t try doing that to Douxie, especially since it might be harder to get his hand back than it was with Claire. By Deya, I want him to stop hurting my friends.”

And getting Claire’s hand had led to Merlin controlling Jim.

“We’ll save him,” Krel vows.

Douxie isn’t sure how long he’s been kept in the antimagic cell, alone with only his memories to plague him. Well, that, and one very stale piece of bread that Agravaine tossed at Mordred’s head.

Jim opens the door to the cell, and gestures for Mordred to come out. Jim never enters the cell. Douxie wonders if entering the cell will free Jim.

Maybe Mordred should feel guilty for having made the amulet. Sure, the amulet ensured that the Gumm-Gumms, the beings who killed two of Mordred’s parents and two of Mordred’s cousins, were finally defeated, but it’s also being used to control Jim. But he’s too exhausted to think about it. He’s exhausted from being completely cut off from his magic, so Mordred doesn’t fight back. He just goes to wear Jim leads him.

It’s a small room, but it’s larger than Douxie’s cell. Jim shuts the door behind Mordred, leaving him alone with Merlin. Merlin has his back to the entrance. A set of papers float in front of him. One set older, one set newer. Nearby, a sword is being sharpened with magic.

Mordred swallows down his bile. It’s Excalibur, out of its sheath. His father didn’t unsheathe Excalibur when he fought Mordred at Camlann.

In the center of the room is a stone pillar.

Merlin flicks a hand, and Mordred is dragged towards the pillar by magic. Ropes twist themselves around his arms, legs, and torso. His upper right arm is on the pillar. Mordred is able to twist his head to try and see the papers.

He’s seen the set of old papers before. He first saw them soon before he accidentally sent himself to the twenty-first century. Actually, they’re what truly inspired him to run away from Merlin. They’re the plans to the Amulet of Daylight.

The newer papers look like plans for an amulet.

Mordred remembers how Claire nearly lost a hand to Merlin, and how even now it’s still healing from the dismemberment.

“Please don’t do this,” Mordred pleads as he tries to force himself not to hyperventilate. “I can help you in other ways.”

Merlin grabs Excalibur. “You should have thought of that centuries ago. Besides, you’d be surprised by how hard it is to find wizard hands.”

Mordred glares at Merlin and tries to summon his magic. Lightning, fire, anything. But he hasn’t recovered from the antimagic cell, so he can’t fight back. He still strains against his bindings.

“Fine, have it your way and fight back,” Merlin says. “It’ll only hurt worse.”

As Merlin brings down Excalibur, Mordred’s last thought before painful oblivion takes him is that he can almost understand why Aunt Morgana turned on everyone.

But only almost.

It’s been a long two delsons since Merlin took Mordred. They’ve tried to cover up Douxie’s disappearance. Zoe with illusory magic, Krel with a hastily thrown together transduction, and Toby and Steve with a shared glamour mask. That, and the fact that Douxie’s phone got left behind. They’ve seen him unlock it enough times that it isn’t too hard to hack, though the pattern is annoyingly complicated.

Krel sighs. He’s supposed to meet up with Zoe in a few horvaths, to try and find a way to upgrade their weapons and armor. Well, everyone else’s weapons and armor, considering that Krel’s doesn’t need upgrading. They don’t know where Mordred, Jim, and Merlin are, but they’ll need to be stronger if they want to be able to ever fight Merlin to get their friends back. For now, though, he’s sitting in his room, sipping at a glass of juice that Lucy gave him.

An idea comes to him. It’s technically a violation of privacy, but Krel and the others have already been through Douxie’s phone. Krel’s desire to check Mordred’s wrist can’t be any worse. It’s just a selfish desire for Krel to see his own name on his ex’s wrist.

Krel activates the transduction that makes him look like Douxie. Krel’s name should be on Mordred’s right wrist, underneath the bracelets he always wears. The bracelets don’t budge.

Krel doesn’t get why he’s so disappointed when he returns to his Akiridion form. He should’ve known that the bracelets wouldn’t move. It’s a very basic transduction, only meant to fool people who won’t look too closely. People who don’t know Douxie’s mannerisms and won’t touch enough Douxie to notice that his clothes won’t move from his body. It’s meant to keep people from missing him.

It doesn’t stop Krel from missing Douxie. Krel frowns. He doesn’t want to miss Douxie. He isn’t fine with his ex being held captive by Merlin, but he also doesn’t want to miss him. He wants Douxie to be safe, and maybe a little miserable without Krel. He wants Mordred to be regretting his decision to break up with Krel. He wants an apology, and an explanation. But Krel doesn’t want to miss Douxie, he wants to try and ignore Douxie’s entire existence. Except, even when Krel and Douxie had just broken up, Krel hadn’t been able to ignore him. Krel isn’t sure if he’d be able to ignore Douxie like he wants to be able to, even if Douxie was safe and far from Merlin and not Mordred. Krel can’t stop thinking about Douxie, because…

Because…

“I love him,” Krel admits quietly to his empty room. Krel sits on his bed, one hand over his core. A single tear rolls down his cheek. Despite everything that Mordred has supposedly done, Krel loves him. Despite how much Douxie has hurt Krel by breaking up with him, Krel loves him. Or maybe that’s why he’s so hurt by the breakup, because Krel has never loved anyone the way he’s loves Douxie before.

Krel wipes his eyes with his lower right hand. He then rolls down the sleeve of that arm and presses his lips to where Mordred’s name has been on Krel’s wrist for three keltons.

Krel lowers his arm and chuckles a little, feeling silly for what he has just done.

He isn’t ready to forgive Douxie for how he hurt Krel, but maybe, just maybe, the two of them can go back to being on speaking terms after they rescue Mordred.

Mordred keeps his arms against his chest. Each time he hears footsteps pass by the dim cell that Merlin is keeping him in, Mordred finds himself switching which arm is crossed over the other even though doing so aggravates his injury. He can’t decide which arm he wants to be closer to any impending attack. His right arm feels useless, and it’d be better to use it to protect his left arm. However, he can’t bear the thought of his right arm getting any more hurt. He hasn’t been given painkillers, not pills, potions, spells, or even theriac, though the last of those might be hard to come by in this century. He certainly hasn’t been able to heal himself; an iron cuff has replaced his wristwatch and has locked away his ability to cast spells. The closest he has to a painkiller is the numbness that comes from having been locked in a small, dim cell for what feels like a very long time with nothing to distract himself with other than distant footsteps.

He supposes that the cuff better than the antimagic cell, because the inability to access his magic doesn’t feel as oppressive. Also, Jim has actually been handing the stale bread to him instead of just throwing it at him. But in the antimagic cell he wasn’t chained to a wall by his left arm. In the antimagic cell he could walk around more than two paces. In the antimagic cell he still had two hands.

Perhaps Mordred should consider himself lucky that he had been given bandages, not left to bleed out. Then again, luck is another form of fate, and fate is never on his side. Merlin probably has something planned for Mordred. Something horrible. Perhaps Merlin will harvest Mordred’s left hand as well, and then go on to harvest other parts of his body for spell components..

He can’t just be bait. Perhaps he thinks of himself as too important, but it doesn’t seem right. If Douxie is just bait, then Merlin wouldn’t have revealed Mordred’s identity to everyone else. Merlin would know that Zoe would hate Mordred and would lead the others in hating Mordred even if he had been their friend. If Douxie is bait, then he will fail at the role Merlin was forcing him to play. No one will come for him.

His friends hate him.

His soulmate is grateful that he doesn’t have to look at Douxie, if they’re even soulmates anymore.

His only living family are a cousin who’s never really liked him (and whom he’s never really liked back), and a genocidal aunt trapped in another dimension. Honestly, Aunt Morgana’s more likely to kill Mordred as she razes Merlin’s stronghold than she is to rescue Mordred. Never mind that once Mordred had found the list of ingredients Merlin had used for the amulet, Mordred had run away. He hadn’t been able to apologize to his aunt for everything involving her lost hand in a timely manner because he had accidentally sent himself forward in time about a millennium and a half, but she won’t take his excuses. Besides, she probably won’t recognize him; she hadn’t recognized him back when she had been possessing Claire. So why would she save him?

No one will save Douxie.

Mordred hears footsteps, and he recrosses his arms.

“I am so glad you’re finally taking an interest in your past,” Archie says as he half reads, half lies on top of the plans that Krel and Zoe have drawn up.

“I’ve ‘taken an interest’ in artificing work before,” Zoe says.

“You wanted to make a magical flamethrower. Honestly, given that three of your uncles are firefighters and both your father and grandfather worked in a chemical plant, I wouldn’t be surprised if a mild case of pyromania runs in your family,” Archie says. “Really, you’re the Lady of the Lake, not the Lady of the Bonfire.”

“Some planets have lakes of fire,” Krel provides. Archie glares at him, stands up, and walks to sit directly in the doorway. Zoe just rolls her eyes.

“By the way, why does your armor need to have pink and blue ribbons?” Krel asks. No one else is getting anything as fanciful. Toby’s armor is being upgraded to be more like Jim’s in that Toby will be able to put it on in a flash of light. Steve is going to be getting a helmet and breastplate, and also an axe, all of which will be collapsible. He has broken far too many baseball bats when fighting constructs; it’s time for him to get a real weapon.

“Because in combination with the armor being silver, it’s trans rights,” Zoe says. “Also, I probably watched way too many magical girl shows when I was a kid. I mean, that was one of things that was actually cool about getting the Lady of the Lake powers. I thought I was getting a cool, supportive black cat that would actually be a useful and effective guide.”

“I can hear you,” Archie says.

Zoe ignores him. “That, and just the gender affirming part. By the way, Krel, are you sure you don’t want to do any upgrades?”

“I’m fine with just my serrator. I mean, it’d be nice to work on my portable wormhole generator, but we need weapons and armor. Besides, I’m more durable than the rest of you.”

Zoe frowns. “Sure, I just don’t want you to get hurt when we go to save Doux… Mor… ugh, I don’t know what to call him.”

“I’m sure we can ask him when we rescue him.” Krel hopes they can do so soon.

For once, it’s Agravaine dragging Mordred out of his cell. Literally dragging. At least Jim had left Mordred with some dignity left by allowing him to walk. Agravaine had taken the chain binding Mordred to the wall and is using it to drag Mordred along at a demanding pace. Or perhaps it’s a normal pace, and Mordred’s limbs are just not used to being able to move this long. Mordred does not know how much time he has spent shackled to a wall. He does not know how long it has been since he lost his hand.

He doesn’t dare to ask. When he was a child, Merlin told Mordred that he asked too many questions. Mordred doesn’t dare ask any now, for fear of punishment.

Agravaine takes Mordred back to the room where he lost his hand. Mordred tries not to hyperventilate as he looks around for a source of escape. Agravaine attaches the chain to the wall and leaves the room.

Excalibur isn’t in the room, but that does not give Mordred any comfort. Merlin might keep it with him. He might also keep it in some sort of pocket dimension. Not that Mordred can remember Merlin ever using that sort of magic. It had always been Aunt Morgana using magic inherent to alternate dimensions.

Then again, according to Krel there were more than three spatial dimensions, so maybe shadow magic isn’t needed to access them. Mordred misses Krel and everyone else so much. He doesn’t deserve to miss them, though. Especially not Krel. He doubts they miss him. They think he’s a ruthless, bloodthirsty killer. They hate him. Mordred doesn’t blame them. He hates himself, too.

Merlin enters the room. One of Merlin’s hands is empty. The other is clasped around something.

Merlin releases the shackle around Mordred’s wrist. Immediately, Mordred can feel his magic begin to return to his body. Before Mordred can attempt to cast any spells, Merlin’s hand wraps around Mordred’s throat. Merlin then places something circular and cold against Mordred’s chest. As Merlin removes his hand from Mordred’s throat, there is a flash of green light.

Mordred feels a numbness wrap around his skull and armor wrap around his body.

He doesn’t feel like Mordred anymore.

He doesn’t feel like Douxie anymore.

He doesn’t feel like a person.

He feels cold.

This feeling is familiar, and he is terrified.

The construct they were sent to fight was incredibly weak. Or maybe the upgrades to their weapons and armor are just that strong. Either way, after Merlin’s ambush Krel is nervous about weak constructs. He gets the feeling that the others are as well. All four of them look around, making sure there is no other threat.

It’s rare that any of them have seen one of the knights or the constructs actually teleport in front of them, but it always starts the same way. Smoke begins to swirl in the floor. As it rises, it glows with green light, and when it clears the knight or construct is there.

Mordred is there. He wears black armor. His helmet has a dragon with outstretched wings on it, and his pauldrons, knee-guards, and elbow-guards all look like wings. There are wings on the armor’s tasset as well. Mordred’s hands are completely encased in armor, and the guards on his knuckles are similar to the ones on his other joints. An amulet glows on Mordred’s chest plate with a poisonous green light, and the brightness of the carvings in his armor seem to correspond to how close they are to the amulet. The amulet looks like Jim’s, but the hands resemble wings. In addition, the amulet is about a third of the size of Jim’s.

His eyes are black and green and glowing.

Krel moves to take a step towards Mordred, but Toby puts his arm out and steps to the front.

“So,” Toby says. “You’re still too much of a coward to actually face us, so you’re going to keep using my friends as a shield.”

“I’m sorry,” Mordred says. His voice sounds pained and so very tired.

Toby’s expression changes from determined to terrified. Mordred’s hands open from the fists they had been clenched into. He waves his left hand in an arc, and five floating daggers appear in the air. He reaches out his right arm, and a sword appears in his hand. The crosspiece of the sword and daggers all have the same wing motif.

He lunges forward, and everyone has to scatter from formation to avoid the daggers.

Krel has fought Douxie before in practice spars. So have the others. Douxie rarely won, because he was always cautious while fighting them. Like he was afraid of hurting them.

The way that Douxie fights now is far more ruthless. It’s not the exact way that Douxie fights knights and constructs, because Douxie would be precise with his dagger and shield. He’d have to be, without armor and the reach of a sword. Worse, it’s not just an improvement to Douxie’s weapons and armor. He casts spells that create light and fire.

What Mordred loses in accuracy he more than makes up for in precision. Every strike makes Krel thankful that he and Zoe upgraded everyone’s armor.

But armor can’t fully save them. Sure, Mordred can’t pierce into the armor’s gaps because he can’t see them, but the armor doesn’t fully cover any of them. And too late, Krel realizes that Steve should have some sort of guards on his arms.

Right before Steve’s arm can be reduced to a bleeding mass of ribbons, the daggers twist so that the flat end hits them. And yes, being hit by them probably still hurts, but not as much as it would have.

Mordred places his left hand on his sword’s hilt. His jaw shifts, like he’s gritting his teeth.

Like he’s fighting back against Merlin.

Afterwards, the fight is slightly easier. Yes, Mordred now has more power to the blows, but he has more control. The fight is not easy enough for any of them to try and ask Mordred how to save him.

A single tear rolls down Mordred’s face as he stops himself from slashing through Krel’s chest.

An emerald floats up from some unseen spot in Mordred’s armor and crushes itself above him, sending Mordred away.

Krel isn’t sure which of his soulmate’s names he screams in frustration.

The cold numbness doesn’t leave when Merlin once more chokes Douxie as Merlin replaces the amulet with the shackle. Merlin then walks away, probably to summon Jim or one of the knights to bring Mordred back to his cell. Douxie doesn’t feel like a person, but he forces his lips to move and sound to escape his throat because he needs to know.

“You…” Mordred says, trying to force out the accusatory anger that he feels in some distant place that all of his emotions and everything else that makes him a person have been sent to. “You killed my father, didn’t you?”

Merlin glances over at him. “We both know that you stabbed him through the chest. And given how you’ve been fighting back against my control for the past several days, I’d say that you were more than capable of fighting back then, especially if you had truly cared about him. So, no. You killed Arthur. I just gave you the needed push. Unfortunately, you lack the discipline that you had back then.”

Merlin steps away, and some of that distant anger and shock is replaced by fear. Fear that Mordred is going to lose his left hand as well. Merlin continues speaking. “It’s really too bad. If your parents had just listened to the false prophecy I had given them, I could have stolen you away with the promise to kill you and instead raised you as my weapon since I had always known your magic would be powerful. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about any of this. But no. Without doubting the prophecy’s validity, Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere all thought the best choice was to raise you themselves and hope that I had misinterpreted the idea of you killing Arthur. Funny, that. When I created the false prophecy, I didn’t yet even have any intention to have Arthur killed. He had still been useful, then.”

The numbness is so intense that the entire trek back to Mordred’s cell is a blur.

Toby’s house is the closest, this time, so that’s where they go when Douxie is gone. Toby very purposefully avoids looking towards Jim’s house as they do so.

“That was Douxie’s voice,” Toby says as the four of them climb the stairs to Toby’s room. It’s the longest sentence he’s said since they heard Douxie speak.

“So?” Steve asks.

“Possessed people don’t have their own voice, they have the voice of the person possessing them. Draal spoke in Gunmar’s voice. Claire spoke in Morgana’s voice. Douxie isn’t possessed.”

“But he’s not the one in control,” Zoe says.

“No, but he was fighting back,” Krel says.

“The point is, how do we get him back? I’d go to Strickler for possession stuff since he was somewhat helpful with Claire, but like I said,” Toby says, glancing behind himself towards the direction of Jim’s house.

“Well, what if we cut him off from his magic?” Steve asks. Zoe winces at the idea. “Uh, cut him off from Merlin’s magic, anyways?”

“Wait, cutting Douxie off from his own magic might work,” Toby says. Zoe cringes away from him.

“How?” she says in a horrified tone of voice.

“Merlin’s tomb,” Toby says.

“I thought the entire problem is that Merlin is alive and none of us know how to kill him,” Steve says.

“It’s where me and the others woke Merlin up from in the first place.” A guilty look forms on Toby’s face. “Big crystal cave, weird rooms, the point is, Douxie won’t be able to use his magic there. Only Merlin’s magic works there, which is why I didn’t mention this to any of you for Jim. Plus, even though only Merlin’s magic working, that’s not where Merlin’s home base is. Don’t get why, though. But the point is, Douxie will only be using a sword. Maybe sword and dagger, by dual wielding. But he’ll be at a disadvantage.”

“But if he can’t use magic, then isn’t there a chance that Douxie will have a harder time fighting back?” Krel says as he sits on Toby’s bed.

“Merlin summoned Douxie back because he was fighting back,” Zoe says. “I think. Maybe? But I get the feeling that no matter what, it’s going to be a lot harder for him to fight back against Merlin next time he’s forced to attack us, no matter what.”

“How would we get Douxie to the tomb, though?” Steve asks.

Toby smacks a hand to his forehead. “Right. Forgot about that. We had to break Jim’s amulet to turn on the ignition for a gyre. I mean, Claire’s checked that place out with her portals, but I don’t want to ask her to do any portals. She’s got enough on her plate with protecting the trolls; I swear she has more white hair each time I see her.”

“I’ve been working on a portable wormhole maker, as a side project,” Krel says. “I need a power source, but I think it could work. The person operating it would have to stay behind, though.”

“I might be able to provide power?” Zoe says. “I’d have to see the schematics, though. But I think I’d be able to.”

“And then the three of us can save Douxie!” Steve punches a fist into the air. He winces as he moves his arm wrong; a bruise is forming.

“No. I have to go alone,” Krel says.

“No. You’re. Not.” Toby stands up to his full height so that he’s almost eye-level with Krel.

“All your weapons are at least somewhat magical. Same with your armor. It won’t work in Merlin’s Tomb. I’m the only one who will be able to fight him.”

Toby sighs. “Fine. But if you don’t come out after four minutes, then we’re coming after you.”

“Okay. Hopefully, the fact that Mordred’s my soulmate will help me in this.”

Mordred doesn’t really sleep after the revelation about the prophecy being false. He had a hard time sleeping in his cell before, since his left wrist was always restrained and there was always some amount of pain from his right arm. But it’s worse now.

Knowing that Merlin has been using Mordred since before he was even conceived makes it hard to sleep, eat, or walk the limited range his chain allows him to. All Mordred wants to do is stare at a single point in the wall and try not to think about, well, anything really, because everything leads back to the fact that Mordred is a weapon and always has been. He is a weapon, but if he had tried harder not to be he wouldn’t have killed his father.

His wrists ache constantly. His left wrist is constantly restrained. He is not sure how often the bandages on his right wrist are supposed to be changed, but they’re changed rarely enough that they’ve become dirty.

When he is able to try to fall asleep, he does not sleep well. Nightmares attack him constantly. They aren’t just the nightmares that have plagued Mordred for the past three years, not when some of them feature his friends being the ones with gaping stab wounds in their chests.

He feels so cold all over. Almost all over; his head feels so unbearably hot.

He is so tired. He is too tired to fight back when Merlin forces the amulet upon him again.

After all, Mordred has always been a weapon. It’s useless for him to fight back.

In that distant place where everything that makes him a person is being kept, he hopes his friends will kill him before he can kill them.

Four delsons are barely enough to finish the portable wormhole generator. Four delsons pass between the last time they saw Mordred and now.

Mordred doesn’t wait to attack them like he did before. He is silent. He doesn’t seem to be fighting back against Merlin. His eyes glow a brighter green, as do the carvings. His blows are meant to cause as much harm as possible.

A cut forms on Steve’s arm and another on Toby’s face as they shield Zoe, who’s channeling her magic into the wormhole generator.

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asks.

“Stick to the plan!” Krel shifts his serrator to its shield form to avoid the barrage of daggers.

Mordred is suddenly backlit by the wormhole’s cyan glow. Krel shifts his serrator into its sword form and charges. Mordred sidesteps him, parrying the blow. A line of blue fire forms between the two of them and the wormhole.

“Hey, Douxdred!” Toby shouts. For the briefest of moments, confusion cuts through Douxie’s blank expression. This gives Toby enough of an opening to slam his warhammer into Douxie’s upper legs, sending Douxie and one of his daggers flying through the wormhole. The others fall to the ground. Krel pulls out his hoverboard and flies over the flames and through the wormhole. It closes behind him.

Mordred walks towards him. He throws a dagger at Krel. Krel jumps off the hoverboard in order to avoid it. Mordred breaks into a run, sword pointed at Krel.

Parry. Dodge. Parry. Lunge. Parry. Krel grits his teeth as he adjusts his grip on his serrator.

Parry. Dodge. Thrust. Parry. Krel glances downwards to see if he could try and trip Mordred. Krel has to jump out of the way to avoid Mordred stabbing directly through Krel’s core.

Parry. Advance. Parry. Krel’s serrator gets caught on one of the wings of Mordred’s helmet, and he has to shift it into a shield to avoid losing it. Mordred’s sword clashes into Krel’s shield once, twice, three times before Krel forms a sword again.

Thrust. Parry. Krel wonders how quickly this fight would be over if he just shot Mordred. But Krel isn’t sure how to shoot Mordred and not kill him.

Advance. Mordred’s sword slices into Krel’s jaw, tearing the fabric. Krel parries to avoid any actual damage but loses his serrator in the process.

Krel pushes away at Mordred’s right wrist. Mordred howls in pain and drops his sword. As Mordred attempts to pull away, Krel’s fingers reach around the amulet and pull it out of the armor. Mordred’s eyes close and he falls backwards. Krel reaches for Mordred’s right hand, but his fingers slip through empty air. Mordred’s head slams into the stone floor.

Krel kneels next to him. All four of his hands shake. One of them is about to touch the bandaged stump where Mordred’s right hand used to be, but he decides against it. He doesn’t want to cause any pain. With his lower pair of hands, Krel texts the group chat so they know he’s safe. At the same time, he grabs his serrator and the amulet from where they’ve fallen and sticks them in his pockets.

Krel’s fingers ghost over Mordred’s cheek as he tries to remember where to check a human’s pulse. Akiridions aren’t as sensitive to fluctuations in temperature as humans are, but Krel is pretty sure Mordred’s head shouldn’t be so hot. Mordred leans his head into Krel’s touch, and Krel sighs with relief. His soulmate is alive. Mordred opens his eyes, and Krel realizes that something is wrong.

Mordred’s eyes are no longer green; they are the same shade of gold that Krel has missed more than he had known. But they are hollow, like Merlin has reached into Mordred and taken out everything that makes Mordred a person.

“Krel?” Mordred asks. He sounds so tired. Tired, and scared, and pained. His hollow eyes focus on Krel’s jaw, where the suit is ripped. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, it was Merlin’s,” Krel says.

“Not just for that.” Douxie trembles as he sits up. Krel reluctantly removes his hand from Douxie’s cheek. He doesn’t want to put any pressure on his soulmate.

The wormhole opens behind them.

“Let’s go home,” Krel says. They stand up; Krel catches Douxie as he begins to collapse. Douxie cradles his right arm against his chest.

“Here, lean on me,” Krel says, his voice more frustrated than he intends. He’s not frustrated with his ex. Not too frustrated, anyways. He’s angry at Merlin. Krel had known that Mordred losing a hand was a possibility, but the reality hurts.

The selfish part of Krel wants to push Douxie away. Douxie is sticky with sweat and blood, and his gait is just different enough to throw Krel off. But the heartbroken part of Krel cherishes the way Douxie’s body presses against Krel’s own, the way Douxie leans into Krel’s touch. He knows it won’t last, but he wants it to.

They exit the wormhole into Krel’s house. Krel isn’t always the best at reading other people’s emotions, but it is easy to pinpoint when his friends realize that Douxie is missing a hand.

“I, uh, I’m gonna go call Dr. L,” Toby says, darting off as he pulls out his phone.

“What happened?” Zoe asks as the four of them follow Toby upstairs.

“Merlin happened,” Douxie mumbles.

“He hit his head when I got the armor off of him,” Krel says at almost the same time.

Krel deposits Mordred into a comfortable chair. Mordred’s hollow eyes follow Krel as he walks away, but then he just starts staring at a random empty point on Krel’s wall. His eyes start to flutter closed.

Steve pokes Mordred in the cheek.

Mordred opens his eyes. “Why?”

“Sorry, but you might have a concussion. If you fall asleep, you might fall asleep forever.” Steve turns to Zoe as he removes his finger. “He’s burning up.”

“Hey, Lucy, where do you keep your towels?” Zoe asks, running off as water begins to coalesce in her hands.

“I doubt it’ll be forever,” Mordred says. “Just another millennium and a half, like last time. Maybe then I can stop being Merlin’s weapon.”

Zoe comes back with a damp towel, using her magic to keep it from dripping on the floor. She unceremoniously lays it over Douxie’s forehead.

“Cold,” he complains. He reaches up with his left hand to move it, but Zoe presses the towel against his forehead.

“Yeah, well, suck it up, you’ve got a fever. Towel stays.” Zoe bites her lip as she steps away. Mordred sighs and continues staring at the blank wall, expression completely blank.

Quietly, she says, “I’ve never seen him this sick before. And his eyes. They’re…”

“Hollow?” Krel provides.

Zoe wraps her arms around herself. “I was going to say voids, but that works better.”

Toby walks over towards them. “Okay. So, Dr. L’s driving over. She’s going to pick him up and take him to the hospital.”

Krel takes the amulet out of his pocket and hands it to Zoe. “Do you think you or Archie could do something with this?” Zoe shrugs, but takes it anyways.

“Thanks for fighting back,” Mordred says, startling the four of them.

“Well, what else would we have done?” Steve asks.

Mordred sniffles. “My father didn’t when Merlin made me kill him. I wish he had.”

Toby, Zoe, Steve, and Krel all look at each other, not sure what to say after that. Mordred just continues staring at the empty wall.

Toby pulls out his phone. “Oh! Dr. L’s here.”

Steve takes Douxie out to the car. Krel looks down at his right hands and realizes that Mordred lost the wrist with Krel’s name on it.

A day later, Douxie is released from the hospital with instructions on how to keep his right arm clean, a list of legal instructions to handle with his employers considering that he’s lost a hand, medical results revealing that he doesn’t have a concussion, and several prescriptions. One is for the infection, one is for the fever, and another is for the pain. He isn’t sure how his health insurance will pay for any of it, not with how hard it is to try and get flu vaccinations covered, but Dr. Lake says not to worry about it and how the city is trying to set up a fund to help with defense. It’s hard for him to worry, but not because of her reassurement. He feels better than he did yesterday, but he still doesn’t feel like a person with actual, non-distant emotions.

Getting re-dressed is a frustrating endeavor. He drops his belt once before he gets the hang of using his forearm. He has no idea of how to tie his shoelaces with only one hand, so he stuffs them inside his shoes. He can’t figure out how to roll his hoodie sleeves up, so he lets them hang around his wrists. It feels wrong. For nearly as long as he can remember his sleeves have been cut short or rolled up. Long sleeves were a fire hazard around a toddler who would make fireballs, so Mother, Father, Da, and anyone else who cared about Mordred would make sure to roll up his sleeves if for some reason his were long. Mordred hasn’t accidentally set fire to anything in a long time, but rolled up sleeves are such a habit that the way they are now feels wrong.

And yes, he can technically use his magic to dress himself, but his magic feels tainted now. Tainted and distant, just like everything else about him as a person.

He walks into the hospital waiting room, arms pressed to his sides. It is mostly empty, aside from the receptionist and three other people. Specifically, three of Douxie’s friends.

Specifically, Zoe, Steve, and Toby. He is relieved to see them, to see that they care about him enough to come here. He doesn’t allow himself to be disappointed that Krel isn’t there, not with how Douxie hurt Krel. Krel should hate Douxie. Krel deserves to hate Mordred even more than everyone else does. Yesterday was just a fluke when Krel had handled Douxie so tenderly. It may have not even been truly tender, it may have been the aftereffects of possession, infection, betrayal, losing a hand, and otherwise poor living conditions causing Douxie to seek out any source of comfort even when there wasn’t one. It wasn’t tenderness, it was just wishful thinking.

The three of them are talking, but Toby notices Mordred first. He taps Zoe on the shoulder, and she looks up. She stands up from her chair and marches towards Mordred, anger radiating off of her.

Mordred tries not to flinch away. Of course. They hate him. They think he’s a bloodthirsty killer. Merlin forced Mordred to try and kill them and so they should hate him for their own safety.

“I can’t believe you,” Zoe says. “Seriously? Why am I listed as your next of kin? I have to get my parents to approve of my own, but somehow I have to make the medical decisions for you. Is that even legal? Why couldn’t you have found some adult to trust with this?”

She then hugs him with enough force that Mordred has to adjust his footing. His left arm shakes as he wraps it around Zoe.

“I can change it, if you want?” Mordred says. He doesn’t understand why it’s somewhat-legal paperwork that she’s mad about and not everything else.

Steve and Toby walk towards them. Steve pulls Douxie’s phone out of the pocket of his khakis.

“You dropped this,” Steve says. Zoe pulls away from Mordred so he can grab his phone. His hand shakes less now. Steve continues, “Oh yeah, you should probably change your password, since all four of us hacked into it so we could pretend to be you so your jobs didn’t think you’d just skipped town.”

“Yeah, also,” Zoe says, “we were wondering if you preferred to be called Douxie or Mordred?”

“I… it doesn’t matter,” Mordred says. He can’t hide from his past anymore, so there’s no reason to continue being Douxie, but Douxie is an identity he claimed for himself when everything else was ripped away from him. He can be both. Maybe he can find a way to change his name to legally incorporate the name he chose into the name his parents gave him. Considering how he was able to falsify his legal existence; it shouldn’t be too hard.

“Okay, Douxdred it is, then,” Toby says.

“One or the other; don’t call me that,” Douxie snaps, then cringes. He isn’t sure how he earned their forgiveness, but he can’t be threatening or else they’ll hate him. “I’m sorry.”

Toby shrugs. “Hey, I get it. I still hate that Claire’s nickname for me stuck.”

“You don’t hate me?” Mordred asks, glancing between his friends. “Not with everything I’ve done? You don’t think I’ll betray you?”

“Why would we?” Steve asks. “It wasn’t your fault. You literally told us that in a kind of depressing way. I know a therapist, she’s really nice.”

“But I didn’t know Merlin made, made me…” Douxie looks away, lowering his voice so it sounds less choked. “I thought I was dangerous, that I was a time bomb before I killed someone I cared about again. I thought it was something engrained into me by fate, not Merlin. And I didn’t tell any of you.”

“And I didn’t tell any of you that Merlin and the knights had a very specific vendetta against me and thus my very presence probably escalated at least one fight more than it needed to,” Zoe says as she rolls her eyes.

Douxie sighs, a very slight smile forming on his face. He doesn’t understand why his friends trust him, but he’s thankful that they do.

Krel’s phone buzzes right as he hangs up after talking to Eli about math and technology. Krel pulls it out of his pocket and unlocks it.

Oh. Right. Mordred got out of the hospital, and the others were going to check on him. There are updates from Zoe, Toby, and Steve. None of the updates ask why Krel wasn’t there. None of the updates are from Douxie. Which makes sense, considering that they aren’t on speaking terms. Krel hasn’t blocked Douxie’s number, not when Merlin is a threat.

According to Zoe, Mordred’s eyes are still just as hollow as they were yesterday. Krel wants to hug his soulmate, to hold him until the emptiness goes away. But Douxie had looked at Krel with a bored expression when Krel had claimed to never want to speak to Douxie again. Which means that Douxie doesn’t feel the same way about Krel. Yesterday was just a fluke. The aftereffects of possession, infection, losing a hand, and anything else that Merlin may have just caused Mordred to find a way to seek comfort out from any source, even if he normally wouldn’t want it. Mordred wasn’t actually taking comfort in Krel’s touch; it was just Krel’s wishful thinking.

Krel types out a quick question, one devoid of emotion but polite, the way his parents taught him to be with dignitaries. He then holds down the backspace button. As much as Krel wants to see if his soulmate is okay, he also wants an apology and an explanation from his ex.

Douxie has less than a day to recover when Merlin sends another enemy. An alert shows up on his phone. It takes far too many tries to unlock his phone; he really needs to change it to something that can be easily unlocked with one hand. When he finally unlocks it, he checks the location of the enemy. Afterwards Douxie shoves his phone in his pants pocket, grabs his keys, and runs out of his house.

He does technically know how to use a dagger with his left hand. But he’s never really liked doing so. He’s trained himself into ambidexterity, so he can cast spells with his left hand and wield a weapon with his right. But he can’t do that anymore. He has to make a choice.

Fire is out of the question, unless he wants to deal with a burning hoodie. Just using shielding spells isn’t going to be helpful.

Douxie stops, several feet away. It’s a swarm of small constructs. Zoe, Steve, and Toby are all trying to smack them. Krel is trying to shoot them with his serrator.

Zoe’s armor doesn’t contain a visor. She gets hit in the nose hard enough to bleed. Blood drips from her nose across her face and onto her armor. Onto her armored chest.

Mordred can’t breathe, not with the memories are overlaying themselves on top of the present. This is all his fault. They’re all going to die and it will be his fault just like it was Mordred’s fault when –

It hadn’t been Mordred’s fault, back then. It had been Merlin’s fault. Or at least, the only fault Mordred had was not fighting back hard enough. He has to fight back now.

Mordred exhales quietly before he bites his lip. He summons a dagger, and then summons four more. He inspects them, makes sure they have a soft blue glow and the crosspieces don’t resemble dragon wings at all. He then swings his left arm like he’s trying to throw something, and he sends his daggers into the fray. He is careful. He doesn’t want to hurt his friends.

Steve stumbles as a dagger takes down a construct about to attack him, but he smiles slightly as he turns towards Mordred. “Oh, huh, you can do that outside of being controlled.”

Douxie tries not to wince.

Parry. Weave. Misdirect. Trying to focus on five different daggers gives him a headache that still doesn’t make him feel real. It doesn’t matter though. His friends are getting hurt less. And he will make whatever needed sacrifice to protect him.

He can see a construct trying to sneak up on him of the corner of his eye. He ignores it. He needs to keep his friends safe. It jumps, ready to pounce, and he does not flinch away because he needs to protect his friends.

The construct is consumed by cyan light. Douxie looks up, and his lips part slightly in a gasp. For the briefest of moments, Krel looks concerned. He then catches Douxie staring and looks away.

Right. They’re in the middle of a fight. But despite everything, Krel might still care about Douxie, or at least, not hate Douxie enough to let him be injured.

Parry. Slash. Stab. The fight finishes more quickly than started. Zoe’s nose is finally starting to clot, and she uses her water magic to clean the blood off of herself. Removing the armor means there isn’t much blood on her clothes. It still looks gruesome. Steve offers her a ride to patch up her face at his house, which she accepts. Toby needs to help his Nana. Krel starts to slowly walk away without a word.

Douxie wants to go home, to avoid everyone. But guilt gnaws at him, and so he jogs over to Krel.

“Can we talk?” Mordred asks, trying to make sure he doesn’t sound pushy, because he doesn’t deserve this.

Krel gives him a long look before speaking. “Sure. Let’s go to my house.”

Krel unlocks the door and steps inside, holding the door open for Douxie while shooing off the Blanks. He does not need Lucy to sharpen her paring knives or Ricky to practice juggling objects heavy enough to crush a human skull while Krel talks to his ex.

They sit on opposite sides of the couch. Krel folds both pairs of hands in his lap. Douxie is about to wrap his arms around his torso, left arm protectively folded on top of his right, but he then presses them to his sides instead.

“So. Talk.” Krel’s voice comes out harsher than he intends. He really needs to get better at talking to people.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you, when I found out that you’re my soulmate,” Mordred says. “And this isn’t an excuse or a justification for how I treated you, because I shouldn’t have, but please let me explain myself.”

Krel nods slightly.

“I… ever since before I was born,” Mordred says shakily, “there was a prophecy where I would kill my father. I didn’t want to kill him, but one day I suddenly was forced to do so, and I didn’t know why. And so, I rationalized it as that for some reason, the forces of fate hated me and wanted me to kill everyone I love. And it was really Merlin manipulating me all along, but I didn’t know that. So, I assumed that fate would make me kill my soulmate. And I was thankful, when I realized that my soulmate wasn’t human, because I thought that the chances of me meeting him, well, you, were so low that I wouldn’t have to worry about pushing… you away to keep you safe. And then I met you, and up until you told us about your soulmate, I just hoped that my soulmate was literally any other Akiridion. But then I found out the truth, and I was so scared I was going to kill you. I didn’t want to hurt you, so I pushed you away.”

Wait… Douxie loves Krel? Mordred loves Krel back?

Douxie gives a wet chuckle. He blinks harshly, like that will stop the tears from forming in his hollow eyes. Like he doesn’t want Krel to pity him, or for his tears to influence Krel. “I really didn’t think that through. Pushing you away that is. Because yeah, I was avoiding killing you. Or at least, trying to. But I still hurt you. And I’m sorry. I was wrong, and not just because it was Merlin controlling me instead of pure fate, but because I should have told you why. And you don’t need to forgive me, and I completely understand. I’m, uh, I can go now, and we can continue not speaking to each other if you want. Thanks for hearing me out, though.”

Douxie rises from the couch.

Krel has wanted three things ever since he found out that Douxie is Mordred: an explanation, an apology, and his soulmate. He has two of them, and he doesn’t want to let the third go.

Krel inhales, sharp and loud, and grabs Douxie’s hand between both of his lower ones. Krel then cradles his soulmate’s face with his upper pair of hands, using his thumbs to brush away Mordred’s tears.

“I love you, too,” Krel says. “Never lie to me again.”

Mordred smiles a half-overjoyed, half-broken smile. “I can do that.”

Krel hugs Douxie as he starts sobbing into Krel’s chest. Krel might shed a couple relieved tears as well.

When Douxie shows his face again, his eyes seem just a little less hollow.

Krel loves Douxie, and mostly forgives him. This keeps Mordred feeling buoyant and more tethered to his own body than he has felt ever since Merlin forced the amulet upon him. That evening, Douxie still feels rather real as he walks into Zimue Records, where Zoe is finishing up her shift. She asked him to come around at the end. If he squints, he can see faint bruises on her nose.

She pulls an amulet out her pocket, and Douxie’s regained sense of reality fades away once more. It is the same amulet that Merlin created out of Douxie’s hand, but the crystal inside of it is utterly clear.

“You didn’t destroy it?” he asks. He digs his nails into his palm as a twofold task: not hyperventilating and maybe regaining a sense of reality. He manages the former.

“Archie showed me how to take Merlin’s magic out of it,” Zoe says. “It has your hand in it, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I was thinking that, well, since your hand’s in it, I could use both of our magic to turn it into a prosthetic. It won’t be able to summon the full armor, but hey, the armor made you look like you still had both hands.”

“Merlin could take control of me again!”

“I won’t let him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I… look. I don’t want you hurt again, and if you don’t want me to do this then that’s fine, but you’re my best friend and I want to help you. And if something goes wrong and Merlin manages to control you again – and I’d take precautions to make sure he can’t – I will save you.”

“If you need to, you should kill me.”

Zoe’s eyes widen. “What? No!”

“Zoe, I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if I kill someone under Merlin’s control again. I’m not fully sure how I lived with myself after Camlann and coming to Arcadia.”

“Okay. But understand that killing you would be the last resort. And that we might have a hard time living with ourselves if we were to have killed you.”

“I understand. But, what are your plans for the prosthetic? And can you make it look a little less like armor I would’ve designed when I was eight?”

“So, after he lied to you, you got back together?” Aja scrunches her face as she says this.

“Yes, I’ve explained this to you multiple times.” Krel had almost immediately tried to call his sister and tell her the good news about him and his soulmate. She had called him back with surprising speed. He’s starting to regret it now.

“I don’t think you should.”

“Unlike you, my boyfriend has never caused an injury to my sibling, which means that you don’t get to lecture me.” She flinches slightly at his statement.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I… look, I gave him an ultimatum. I can handle myself. How have you been?”

“Um. Fine.”

“Aja, I know you’re lying. What’s wrong?”

Aja mumbles something.

“I couldn’t hear you,” Krel says.

“I met my soulmate today.” The words rush out of her. She doesn’t sound happy. “Or, well, I found her name.”

“And?”

“She’s a Taylon. Much better than average at shooting, slightly worse than average at hand-to-hand combat. Her name was on a list of Taylon soldiers in training who were vetted as loyal.”

“I mean, that’s good. Does she know about you?”

Aja rolls her eyes. “She has my name on her wrist, just like I have hers on mine. I think she knows that I’m her soulmate.”

“I mean, have you talked to her?”

“Krel, I can’t. You know, I was jealous of you, growing up. There was a chance that you might get to have a relationship with your soulmate – and obviously I didn’t think your relationship would be so complicated, but you’d still get to have one. Mama and Papa would have never let me. I think they’d approve more of me and Steve, and well… I’m not sure how they would’ve felt about him. I mean, you didn’t like him at first. Ugh, I’m not even sure how to tell Steve about my soulmate.”

“Again, Steve punched me! Plus, I hadn’t found anything that made Earth worthwhile yet. But, I don’t think Mama and Papa would want you to be unhappy.” Even if they probably would’ve wanted to uphold the caste system. “So, you should probably talk to her and Steve, without caring what others think.”

Aja sighs. “Since when are you smart?”

“I always have been!”

“I meant about emotions. But also, the offer is still open to beat up your boyfriend if he hurts you again.”

Krel rolls his eyes as Aja transitions into talking about something funny Luug did.

Mordred takes his sword, and he stabs it directly through Krel’s core. A grin forms on Mordred’s face as he twists the sword. He grabs Krel’s shoulder for leverage as he then rips the sword out of the wound. The sword disappears, and suddenly Mordred is made very aware of what he has done, what he has been forced to do. He holds Krel to his chest and presses a hand to the exit wound on Krel’s back, trying to stop the blood from flowing out of Krel’s body and soaking into Mordred’s clothes. Redness stains across Krel’s body as he becomes limper and heavier in Mordred’s arms. Mordred stammers out apologies and pleas for Krel to live. The scent of iron burns his nose. He doesn’t know how to heal Krel, he doesn’t know how to fix this, this is all Mordred’s fault and Krel didn’t deserve any of this.

Krel dies in his arms, and a mournful wail breaks free from Mordred’s lips.

With a scream that could shatter glass, Douxie wakes up in his own bed, tangled in his sheets and soaked in his own sweat. While it is too cool of a liquid and it doesn’t have the same scent, the sweat feels too much like blood, and he is tempted to go take a shower and scrub until his skin is raw, but he left a window open and for once, a cold night breeze is blowing. He doesn’t want to have to leave the warmth of his bed. He fumbles around his nightstand for his phone and unlocks it, thankful that he has changed the pattern to something more accessible. It’s 1:03 AM. Without thinking, he calls Krel.

Krel picks up on the second ring. “Douxie?”

“Sorry I woke you,” Douxie says, suddenly realizing that he had been hyperventilating. He tries to banish the image of Krel bleeding out from his mind.

“Bold of you to assume I even need sleep.” Douxie is pretty sure Krel does need sleep, but he is too panicked to state this. “Are you okay.”

“I…” Douxie wants to lie and say it’s nothing, but he needs to be honest with Krel. “I had a nightmare. I killed you, and there was so much blood, and I just wanted to hear your voice to make sure you were okay.”

In the background, Douxie can hear Krel drum his fingers on the table, like he’s trying to think of something to say. “In your dream, what color was my blood?”

“What? Um, it was red.”

“And what form was I in?”

“Akiridion.”

“I don’t have blood as an Akiridion, and as a human my blood is cyan. So, next time you dream about my red and bloody death, hopefully you’ll remember that and realize it’s not real.” The reminder isn’t that comforting; the fact that Krel is trying to be comforting is.

They end up talking until it’s around 3 AM and even Krel has to acknowledge that he needs sleep.

Their first date after they get back together ends up being at the same coffee shop as their first one was. It’s louder this time and there’s more people, which is annoying. Still, they’re able to tuck themselves into a corner, even if they end up having to press against each other. Which isn’t bad, but there is a slight electric feeling to it that distracts Krel. It’s less intense and more comforting than the first time they held hands, but there’s more surface area.

“Did you know that our friends made a bet over whether or not we would get together?” Krel says. Mordred nearly chokes on his chai.

“Technically,” Krel continues, “Toby and Zoe never agreed to it, but they did speculate about us with Steve.”

“Hmm,” Douxie says, having recovered. “I wonder if they’re speculating about whether or not we got back together.”

“Should we tell them?”

“Not our fault those three are oblivious at times.”

Everyone is crowded around Zoe’s kitchen table. Her idea of collaborating on the prosthetic really boiled down to Douxie pumping magic into the amulet and giving design tips, and then her shooing him off. He’s used to it, considering how she is every single time there’s a group project assigned by one of their teachers at the Academy. Mostly used to it, considering that ever since the two of them joined the independent study track at the start of their junior year they haven’t ever had a group project, just homework they’d work on and gripe about together.

Zoe brings out the reconstructed amulet. The stone is now two separate swirling shades of blue; Douxie’s pale blue and Zoe’s cerulean blue. The hands are now daggers instead of wings. The amulet is attached to a black glove.

“Uh, Zoe?” Douxie says. “If I’m not mistaken, if an ornament is attached to a glove, then it goes on the back of the hand. Which means that that’s a glove that goes on the right hand, which, well…”

Zoe and Archie narrow their eyes in unison.

“Just put it on your right arm and twist the amulet clockwise,” she says. Douxie does as told. The amulet glows, and the glove turns to blue light. Metal shoots out from the amulet and forms a gauntlet. It looks like the armor his father, mother, and da both wore, aside from the fact that there’s an amulet and Mordred’s is completely black.

“You’ll probably have to wear a sock under it, to keep your skin from being damaged when the weather gets extreme, like when it’s really hot or the rare occasion that it’s really cold,” Zoe says. Douxie cringes at the idea of another source of cold. “Anyways, can you do a hand gesture or something, to make sure you can use your fingers?”

He feels clumsy. There’s a slight strain on his magic as he tries to correct the clumsiness. Douxie sticks his tongue out as he sticks his thumb, index, and pinky fingers up while curling his middle and ring fingers inward, much to Steve and Toby’s frustration.

Douxie has started working at the bookstore once more, and Krel is hanging out with his boyfriend. It’s nice and quiet. Then again, Krel’s pretty sure the bookstore only gets a few more customers than Stuart’s Electronics. Douxie is sweeping while listening to music on his headphones; Krel is looking at books and rolling his eyes at what random humans think the mystical secrets of the universe are. According to Douxie, only a third of the books here hold actual magical truths and the rest are new age material. The book that Krel is reading almost certainly falls into the latter category.

Krel puts the book back, an idea coming to him. He clears his throat. “Can you kiss me?”

Douxie takes off one headphone; Krel can hear his boyfriend’s music blaring through it. Krel will readily admit, metal growls and yelling about death aren’t his thing, when it comes to music, and this song is doing precisely that. “Did you say something?”

“Can you kiss me?”

Douxie’s face turns a shade of red similar to Toby’s sweater. His voice comes out as a high-pitched squeak. “I mean, I can but why? Uh, that came out wrong. I just, you never really indicated that you wanted to and I’m going to shut up now.”

Krel walks up to him. Embarrassingly enough, his voice is almost as awkwardly squeaky. “Scientific research? On kissing that is? I mean, unless you don’t want to, I was just wondering.”

Douxie cups Krel’s cheek with his left hand and kisses him. It’s an awkward feeling, but it’s nice.

Douxie then pulls back and looks away. Apparently it is possible for Douxie’s face to get even redder. Krel glances towards one of the bookstore’s reflective surfaces and realizes that his own face has a heavy cyan blush.

“So, um, how was that?” Douxie asks.

“Okay,” Krel says, “but inconclusive. I think I’ll need to perform more research.”

Douxie rolls his eyes, his blush receding by a small fraction. “You know, if you want to kiss me more, you don’t have to frame it as scientific research.”

“If I carve something into the prosthetic, will it damage it?” Mordred asks. The two of them are on their lunch break from their respective jobs at the books store and the record store. Zoe raises her eyebrows.

“I made it scuff proof.”

“Oh. Well. Darn.”

“You know, if you wanted it to have carvings, you should’ve told me before I made it.”

“I didn’t think of it until late last night?” It had been really late, considering that Mordred had been kept up by his brain replaying the memories of yesterday’s kiss.

Zoe groans. “What do you want carved into your prosthetic?”

“Krel’s name. I know I hid it before, but I regret doing so now.”

“Oh.”

“And, like, if that’s not possible it’s fine. I can just use markers or something until I can save up for a tattoo.”

“I’m guessing you don’t know any embroidery?”

“I know some. Oh, don’t give me that surprised look. You were a literal blacksmith in your first life, so you should know that gender roles in Camelot weren’t as strict as most of Europe.”

“I’ve got some enchanted thread. You can embroider Krel’s name into the glove, and then it shouldn’t be hard to make it engraved in the gauntlet.”

Merlin sent constructs to two different areas, so Krel and Mordred are alone with a pair of constructs that look disturbingly like overgrown soolians with extra-long legs.

There’s something different about Douxie. Krel can’t figure out what, though. Granted, he’s using a different fighting style than usual. He’s holding a dagger in his right hand and manipulating a cloud of daggers with his left. But that doesn’t feel like it’s it.

Krel blinks and focuses on fighting the constructs. As he slices the head off of one, he tries not to wince as the other one bites down on Douxie’s right arm. The dagger cloud stabs into the other construct’s eyes, and it crumbles. Krel helps to pry apart the constructs jaws so that Mordred can get his arm out.

“I’ve got bandages at my apartment,” Douxie says through gritted teeth. He takes his hoodie off of his left arm and awkwardly wraps it around his right arm to stem the bleeding for now..

“Do you need any help?” Krel asks.

“I can take care of myself, but I’d appreciate it.”

The walk back is thankfully a short one. Douxie hisses as he pulls off his hoodie. “First aid kit’s under the bathroom sink.”

Douxie turns on the water as Krel reaches underneath. As Krel stands up and opens the kit, Douxie rolls up his sleeve and sticks his injured arm under the faucet.

“So, what do you want me to do?” Krel asks.

“See the tape?” Douxie says as he dries off his arm. “I’m going to put gauze on the bite holes; could you please tape them in place?”

Krel undoes the roll of tape and cringes at the stickiness. The two of them tape up Douxie’s injuries, starting with the upper arm and working down. Krel finishes taping up the last of the injuries when something on inside of the wrist of the gauntlet catches his eyes. It’s an engraving that softly glows with the same blue light of the amulet.

“You carved my name into it?” Krel says. Douxie smiles sheepishly.

“I, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out, but yeah. Is that okay? I can undo it if you’d rather me not have.”

“Yeah, just, I didn’t think you really wanted a soulmate?”

“I… no, I didn’t. But after Merlin told me the truth, I realized that having a soulmate wouldn’t have been so bad. And even if I got to choose who I wanted to be my soulmate; I think I still would’ve chosen you.”

Krel beams before kissing his soulmate on the forehead.

Author's note: If you liked this, please reblog and/or go to one of the links and leave a comment! I worked very hard on this so I hope you enjoyed reading it.

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margoshansons · 5 years ago

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Desperate Measures: 8/?

Bellamy x Reader: Masterlist

Summary: After being sent the coordinates for a bunker not far from the camp, Bellamy, Clarke, and Y/N go on a road trip. Y/N meets an important figure from her past.

Warnings: Swearing, hallucinations, suicide references, violence, angst, drug use

Notes: While I love this ep, I can’t bring myself to change much of it. Based on 1x08 ‘Day Trip’

She refused to speak to Marcus, even after he had threatened Clarke and Bellamy. She knew he didn’t mean it. Marcus had a one-track mind, one of the few things the two shared.

One of the things she had learned from him.

Bellamy left the radio tent, catching Y/N’s lingering gaze before he sat down beside her, staring into the flames. “Your dad is really pushing to speak to you.”

She remained silent, sharpening her makeshift daggers with a rock she had found outside the camp. After her encounter with the grounders a few days ago, she had learned that she had a skill for throwing knives, but they needed to be sharp to do any damage.

“I believe his exact words were ‘let me see her or I’ll blow up the camp myself.’” Bellamy’s smirk crept across his face, shifting his gaze to Y/N’s profile, her jaw clenched.

“I told you,” She began, “He’s not my father” Her eyes were downcast, anger stirring in her stomach as she recalled the last thirteen years aboard the Ark. How everything had finally been going right until the flaw was discovered, until she asked his justification for the culling. Until he cuffed her and sent her to the skybox.

“Too many people.” He had said.

Callous, insensitive, heartless.

She’d spent so long wondering if she was the same way. If she shared the same insensitive nature surrounding others. Her eyes peeked at Bellamy through her lashes, catching the bright smile on his face and her chest burst into a thousand butterflies. She tucked both sides of her hair behind her ear and stretched a smile on her face.

There’s no way she and Marcus shared his callousness, not when just looking at Bellamy sent her stomach fluttering.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Clarke appeared before the two of them, pack slung around her shoulder and a determined look on her face. “Kane gave me coordinates to a bunker a few miles from here,” She tossed Bellamy a pack, an expectant look on her face, “We’re heading out soon, so get packed.”

“I’m coming with” Y/N spoke up, throwing the rock away and tucking the freshly sharpened knife into her boot.

“No, you’re not” Bellamy ordered, standing up alongside her. He grasped her bicep, halting her in her tracks, “You just finished recovering.”

“Which is why I need to come with you,” Y/N explained, grasping the other small blade and tucking it in her waistband, “I’m tired of sitting around and doing nothing.”

Clarke smirked at her friend’s impatience, “All right fine.” She shrugged, reaching around to grab an extra pack.

“Clarke--”

The blonde sighed before facing Bellamy’s furrowed brow and pressed lips, “She knows the area,” Clarke defended, drawing her gaze to Y/N’s jacket pocket, “And other than Raven, she’s the smartest person in this camp.”

“Smarter actually,” Y/N bragged, trying to push down the twisting feeling in her stomach at the thought of Bellamy using Clarke’s name. “Mechanics is small stuff, fixing things that are broken, I make sure things never break in the first place.”

“Oh yeah?” Raven called teasingly from the water tent, “Is that why Mecha was without power for three hours last year?”

Y/N bit her cheek, a smile pulling at her lips “That was not my fault Reyes,” She tried to defend herself, but the memory sent a bright feeling erupting within her and she resisted the urge to laugh.

“Really Franco? Because I distinctly remember someone deciding that a quickie with her boyfriend was worth not checking the converters.” Raven replied, waggling her brow at the engineer.

Bellamy chimed in, crossing his arms, “Boyfriend?” His brow was furrowed, eyes narrowing.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, her chest thumping at the thought of Bellamy finding out about Kyle. She was unsure why, but alarm bells went off nevertheless. She threw the pack over her shoulder “Doesn’t matter, let’s go.”

The three of them set out of the camp, gate closing behind them as Bellamy continued to flash nervous looks toward the two girls next to him.

“You know the first dropship will be coming down any day now,” Clarke spoke from between the two of them.

“And?” Bellamy asked, feigning innocence. Y/N couldn’t blame him.

“And you can’t avoid Jaha forever,” Clarke reminded the two of them. Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Jaha and she definitely didn’t want to think about how Marcus would be on the first ship down.

“I can try” Bellamy breathed, walking a few meters ahead of Clarke.

The blonde turned her attention to Y/N, “You know Kane’s gonna come down too.”

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to talk about him. “You talked to Abby yet Clarke?” She shot back. Y/N knew it was a low blow, but she caught the smirk growing on Bellamy’s face and her chest lit up again.

“Here we are” Clarke breathed, stopping in front of a patch of grass. Y/N skid to a stop, her eyes fixed on the clearing before them, jaw slack as she scanned the ruined buildings, trying to recreate what the world would’ve looked like before the bombs.“There has to be a door somewhere.”

“Let’s split up to look for it” Y/N encouraged. She shook her head free of awestruck thoughts and gripped her knife tighter as she separated from the group.

“Stay within shouting distance!” Bellamy warned the two women, sending a nervous look Y/N’s way before she moved away.

She hated being this exposed in grounder territory. Even if a grounder got close enough to slice with the knife, or she could throw it far enough, there was a chance of her opening her wound again, and the last thing she needed was Bellamy finding out about her genetic anomaly.

She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep it a secret. Miller knew, she assumed Clarke knew, even Marcus knew. Why was she so worried about others discovering it?

She popped a nut from the new ration packs in her mouth, relishing in the sweet taste that coated her tongue. A twig snapped behind her and she whipped around, brandishing the knife at the intruder, lowering it when she saw a familiar freckled face appear in the tree line.

“What the hell Bellamy?” She asked, relaxing her shoulders.

Bellamy held his hands up in surrender, “I was following you, making sure you were doing okay.”

She let out an exasperated sigh, “I told you, I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes and pressed forward while Bellamy’s hand latched onto the tips of her fingers. “I almost lost you yesterday” His brown orbs held a certain vulnerability she had only ever seen around Octavia, and he bit his lip as he stared down at her, “Excuse me if I want to check in on my friends.” He nudged her side playfully and she rolled her eyes. The vulnerable look he had been sporting disappeared when the two of them heard their names called.

“Y/N!, Bellamy!” Clarke’s voice rang through the trees and the two of them ran back to the clearing they had entered earlier. Apparently, Clarke had discovered a door to the bunker, and Bellamy leaned over to hit the lock with his ax, shattering the metal.

They pried the door open and the smell hit her before anything else. “So much for living here,” She crinkled her nose in disgust as they descended the worn staircase. Cobwebs hung from the walls and the rancid smell seemed to get worse as they descended deeper into the forgotten bunker.

The three of them dispersed as they searched for something, anything that would be helpful against the upcoming winter.

Y/N used her knife to pry open a chest perched on a rickety shelf. Orange met her eyes and she reached forward, her hands grasping the soft material.

“Blankets,” She muttered angrily, tossing the blankets back into the chest and running her hand through her hair. Clarke’s hand softly grasped her arm.

“At least we have protection for winter.” The ever-optimistic leader reminded her.

“Yeah? We’ll still freeze,” Bellamy huffed in annoyance, “How about medicine or food or a decent freaking tent?!” He kicked a barrel over, leading to several clangs against the floor.

Y/N knelt down, examining the liquid before shining her flashlight on Bellamy’s findings. A hundred or so guns lay packed in the barrel, ready to be fired.

Ready to be used.

“This changes everything,” Bellamy smiled as he picked up the rifle, examining it in his hands before handing it to Y/N, and picking up another one for himself. “The grounders won’t know what hit them.”

The two girls shared a nervous look before crossing to the middle of the bunker, one question leaving Bellamy’s mouth catching them off guard.

“Ready to be a badass Y/N?” He threw a jobi nut in his mouth as Y/N examined the rifle in her hands. Marcus had taught her how to shoot from the moment he had taken her in. It was his idea of bonding, but she saw guns as a waste of time.

Why use them when bombs and grenades were much more effective?

She stole a smirk at the older guy, flipping her ponytail behind her shoulder, “I’m already a badass.” She lined up the shot, recalling Marcus’ voice whispering in her ear.

Use the scope.

Prepare for the kickback.

“Here,” Bellamy moved forward, pressing his body close to hers, arms wrapping around hers as she tried to calm the rising movement in her stomach. Her breathing grew faster, and she focused in on the red banner serving as her target. She couldn’t look at him. Not when she felt her cheeks growing rosier as he moved closer, correcting her grip. Bellamy stuttered as he pulled away, the air growing cold where his warmth had once been.

She fired off a round, ignoring Clarke’s raised eyebrows and Bellamy’s flustered expression.

The bullet hit dead center, and something deep inside her told her that Marcus would be proud.

“So,” Clarke’s voice rang through, running a hand over the deadly weapon, “We need to talk about the guns, who has access, where they’re stored.”

She turned toward Bellamy, invading his personal space and sending a shot of irritation through Y/N’s stomach and up to her chest. “You left Miller in charge,” Clarke continued, “You must trust him, both of you.”

Y/N nodded, her loyalty toward Miller unflinching. “He’s one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met” She appealed to Clarke, “He’ll be a good asset”

“You should keep him close,” Bellamy spoke, shifting his eyes down toward the ground before readying his own gun to take aim at the red curtain.

Clarke narrowed her eyes, “Why do we need to keep him close?”

Bellamy’s feet shifted, refusing to meet the two girl’s eyes. Y/N shifted her eyes from the floor to the freckles on his face, something uneasy stirring within her as Bellamy continued to sway awkwardly. She moved her furrowed gaze to his pack, stuffed with rations taken from the camp. She already knew what his plan was.

“You’re gonna run.” She spoke, her tone resigned.

“Y/N--” Bellamy moved forward,

“Don’t” she stopped him, holding up her hand, a lackluster smile hanging from her lips, “I-uh I thought you were different, turns out you’re just like everyone else.”

She shoved past him, disappearing behind the curtain before storming up the staircase, anger wracking her chest as the all too familiar numbness returned. The cold metal of the stairs seeping through her jeans.

***

Bellamy stared at the empty spot where Y/N had stood, his head bowed as the familiar guilt slithered through him. He had proved her right.

“You can’t leave Bellamy.” Clarke tried to appeal to him, but he simply grit his teeth and turned away from the blonde. “Octavia needs you.”

“Octavia hates me” Bellamy mumbled, refusing to think about his failing relationship with his sister. “She’ll be fine.” He lined up to take another shot when Clarke placed a hand on the barrel.

“If you won’t stay for Octavia then stay for Y/N.”

He froze at the mention of the girl he had grown close with over these past few weeks. He shot off a round, trying to ignore Clarke’s knowing stare at his back.

“I see the way you look at her,” The blonde continued, “You need her, and though she won’t admit it, she needs you too.”

He shook his head and handed her the gun, “Keep practicing,” Bellamy instructed, refusing to entertain the idea Clarke was offering, “I need some air.”

As he pushed past the curtain, he met the cold stare of Y/N as she sat atop the metal stairs, the moonlight at her back, illuminating her seething figure. He tore his eyes away from her and pushed himself upward into the forest air, closing his eyes to try and calm himself down, wondering if Clarke was right and she needed him as much as he needed her.

***

She tugged at her jacket sleeve, picking at the loose threads while she contemplated her relationship with Bellamy. He was just going to leave her without saying goodbye. What gave him the right? Who told him that was okay?

“Love is weakness” A cold voice stated beside her, Y/N looked to her side to see a dark-haired woman with a somber look on her face. “That’s what I decided to teach you.” The unknown woman’s dark gaze met her own, “and I think that is my biggest regret.”

“Who are you?” Y/N asked, unsure what this woman was talking about. She was much older, probably in her early thirties, and she bore a striking resemblance to her late mother.

“My name is Becca, and I’m the one who’s been appearing in your dreams”

Y/N pulled back, wondering why this woman was sitting next to her and how she had survived the bombs. This was the woman whose screams permeated her mind? The woman she saw burned at the stake every night?

The woman whose voice had driven her mother mad?

“My goal was to create a permanent solution for the human race. To make life better.” Becca paused, letting out a sigh, “Instead I caused a nuclear apocalypse and came to earth, leaving my child alone in the hopes that she would atone for my sins,”

Becca stared up at the ceiling, drawing her lips into a straight line before her glassy eyes turned back toward her, “And instead she had you."

Y/N sprang up at the news, catching her breath as realization struck her. Her mouth hung open.

This was the Becca her mother had talked about? This was the Becca whose notes she had taken as gospel? This was her grandmother?

"What the hell are you talking about?" She stormed out of the bunker, her body shaking. Becca following her into the forest.

"I don't have much time, but I need you to know this," Becca called growing frantic, grasping ahold of her shoulders. It almost felt real.

"You grew up in a world where there are two choices. Death or survival. But there's always another choice. Always.” Becca bit her lip as she scanned her granddaughter’s face, something akin to love in her gaze, “You're ruthless and that helps you down here, but there's one lesson I need to impart. One lesson I forgot to give to my commanders and Alie."

Y/N creased her brow in confusion at the rant, unsure what Becca was talking about or how any of this related to her.

"How you reach the goal matters." Becca began to dissipate, fading from her touch, "More than anything."

She shook her head free and found herself staring at the ground with a searing headache. Jesus, what was in those nuts? Was what she just saw real? Had she really seen her long-dead relative alive? Or was that another nightmare that had decided to plague her as well?

"No please!"

Y/N turned around at the voice, knowing exactly who it belonged to.

"Bellamy?!" She called through the trees, sprinting toward the voices calling out for help.

"I'm sorry!"

She crawled through the thicket of trees until she was standing near the edge of a small ravine. Bellamy sat on his knees, mumbling to himself.

"Bellamy?" Y/N called again, standing in front of the hallucinating adult. Bellamy shook, eyes glancing beyond her, gazing at some unseen entity.

"Please, kill me." Bellamy whispered before shouting into the abyss, "I can't fight ANYMORE!"

She knelt down next to the leader, her heart pulling itself into pieces at the phrase. The same phrase she had told herself so many times.

"Bellamy, Bellamy listen to me!" Y/N called, "You are not allowed to die okay? Not on my watch. You're going to be okay" She grasped his shoulders, hoping it would be enough to pull him out of it.

"Bellamy, you're a fighter, okay? You have to keep fighting. For Octavia, for the camp. For me." She pleaded, breaths growing shallower as tears began to stream down Bellamy's grimy face. "If I'm not allowed to die, you're not allowed to die! You hear me?"

Bellamy froze in place, his hand reaching upward to grasp the hand that had moved from his shoulder to his face. His glossed over eyes returned to their original brown as he met Y/N's pleading gaze.

"Y/N?"

She let out a relieved laugh at her name falling from his lips. "It's me, I'm here." She reassured him as he pulled her in for a tight embrace, "I'm here Bellamy."

His body tensed and she pulled out of the embrace and whipped around to see Dax, gun pointed at the both of them. He let out a round. Y/N rolled away, barely avoiding the bullet.

"Nothing personal" He sneered as Bellamy reached beside him, his hand pulling up nothing.

A click of the rifle pulled Y/N away from the scene before her, Clarke standing at the tree line above the ravine, gun drawn. She began to stand up as Dax was distracted by Clarke.

"Put the gun down Dax" Clarke ordered, weapon trained on the bigger delinquent.

He disobeyed her warning and the click of the trigger was heard, except no kickback followed. The bullets were duds. Dax shot back, Clarke narrowly dodging it by diving behind a tree.

Y/N launched herself at the bigger kid, wrapping her arms around his neck as she climbed aboard his back, hoping she had enough strength to weaken his windpipe.

She slammed the ground as Dax threw her off, pointing the barrel directly at her head.

"No!" Bellamy cried as he lunged toward Dax, grabbing him around the midsection and temporarily pinning him to the ground. Y/N struggled to her feet, her side splitting in pain as her arm wound reopened. Dax was atop Bellamy, his hands wrapped around his neck.

"No" Y/N cried, voice hoarse as she crawled forward, Dax's elbow knocking her to the ground. She watched as Bellamy stuck the dud bullet in Dax's throat, causing the bigger delinquent to fall to the ground.

Dead.

She propped herself against a tree, putting pressure on her newly opened wound. Bellamy joined her soon after, their ragged breaths the only sound in the forest.

"I'll get that." He finally spoke, gesturing to the open wound.

Y/N shook her head, "Worry about yourself first," she responded, gesturing to the cuts and bruises that covered his tanned skin. Bellamy had already cut a strip of cloth from his pants, using the dark material as a makeshift bandage, tying it off.

She was thankful for the darkness, it kept her from wondering why Bellamy didn’t seem phased by the color of her blood.

Clarke joined them soon enough, pushing herself against the trunk, she whispered to herself, "Okay, we're okay."

"No, I'm not" Bellamy stared at the ground, horror written across his face, "My mother…if she knew what I've done…She raised me to be good. Instead, all I do is hurt people."

He inhaled.

"I'm a monster."

Y/N spared a sympathetic glance toward him, her heart began to pull at itself once again, urging her to move forward. Empathy for his plight overwhelmed her, pulsing through her veins until she stopped being stubborn enough to listen to it.

There's always another choice.

"You aren't a monster Bellamy," Y/N promised, causing his eyes to glance up at her. "You're a survivor. You're a fighter. You kept me alive when all I wanted to do was die. Now it's my turn. We'll get through this, I promise,"

She shifted her body to face his.

"You may be a total ass half the time, but you've helped us survive." She made her choice, "I need you, we all need you. You can’t run."

When Bellamy gazed at her she knew she made the right one.

Love is not weakness.

"Jaha will kill me when he comes down." Was all he said.

"No, he won't." Y/N spoke, determined, scooting closer to him, "I won't let him, and we'll figure something out."

He sighed as he leaned his head upward toward the sky. "Can we figure it out tomorrow?"

She joined him, her hand mingling with his loose fingers near the base of the tree.

"Whenever you’re ready."

Bringing the rifles back to camp had calmed the chaos down. They no longer had to be afraid of the grounders. They could defend themselves. They could survive.

Except Becca's words wouldn't stop ringing in her head.

How you reach the goal matters.

Why would she need to know that? What else awaited them on the ground?

"Hey" Bellamy's voice called from behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hey" she swallowed the nerves down her throat, finally recognizing them for what they were. "How was the pardoning?"

"Done," Bellamy smiled softly, "Turns out, Jaha's pretty okay with blackmail."

Y/N let out a small chuckle at the joke, the warmth in her stomach flooding her whole body. When had he become so essential to her? When had he started to matter?

"I think your boyfriend's waiting for you," Bellamy said tightly, gesturing his shoulder toward the radio tent.

Y/N creased her face in confusion, "I don't have a boyfriend," She announced, watching as Bellamy's eyes lit up at the news before he turned back to his stoic self.

"So who's Kyle Wick?" He asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

The butterfly-like sensation returned as her body flooded with endorphins at the name, racing toward the inside of the tent to talk to the dirty blonde engineer that had appeared on the radio.

"Kyle!" She yelled into the earpiece.

"Hey, Sparky!" Wick called from the monitor. "Kane didn't want to let me see you, but thank goodness for Sinclair am I right?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Marcus is a dick, you know that better than anyone." She giggled, unaware of how much she used to laugh in Wick's presence. She missed it. "I finally met the Monty you were so excited about."

Wick's eyes lit up, "Hell yeah, I knew you two would get along. So how's the ground?"

She still couldn't believe she was talking to him. "It's…amazing and terrifying."

"Sounds perfect for you then." Kyle teased, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Shut up, Mr. I have perfect follow through." Y/N threw back, her smile never leaving her face.

"I Do!" Wick protested, sending the woman on the other side in a fit of giggles. When they died down he finally asked his question. "So who's the moody guy who wanted to know who I was?"

Y/N sighed as she braced herself for this conversation. "Bellamy Blake"

"The guy who shot Jaha?" Wick's eyes widened, voice rising in surprise. "Never pegged you for the dangerous type."

"He's just a friend Wick." Y/N explained, her stomach screaming in protest as it flipped and flopped around.

Wick raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because I think you better tell him that." He leaned back in the chair as he continued, "Look, Y/N, it's totally okay if you want to move on--"

"No" She cut him off, not ready to have this conversation, "It's not that."

"So what is it?" Wick asked, growing curious. "I know we couldn't make it work, so if you need closure--"

She cut him off again, "Just--I'll tell you when you get down here. But for now, there's no 'we' it's just…me and Bellamy."

He leaned forward. "Do you want it to just 'you and Bellamy'?"

"No. Yes? Maybe? I don't know." Y/N confessed, finally admitting to herself what she actually felt for the older leader. "Just get down here soon so I don't have to deal with these…feelings all on my own."

"Copy that" Wick announced, "feelings are disgusting, I'll be down as soon as I can."

Y/N smiled softly, placing the headset down and joining Miller at the firepit, gaze latching onto Bellamy's, a small smile shared between the two of them.

Oooooh. Looks like Bellamy isn’t the only one catching feelings. Also, I love Wick and felt like his character was so wasted on the show. I have a really cool arc for him and Y/N if we get to season two, so please keep commenting and reblogging!

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darkestwolfx · 5 years ago

Text

Earthbreaker - Re-Review#27

Here we go, the start of Series 2!

This is another machine that looks a little bit like the Sidewinder (TOS). Hmmm, I can see why the episode is called Earthbreaker though. I mean, look at the earth. Big clues there.

“We’ve got ourselves another gold rush.”

“Except it’ts scandium ore, not gold.”

“Ten times as valuable though. Ker-ching.”

Nothing like it, ey, money makes the world go around! And where there are money making opportunities, you can expect to find The Hood! Except, oh yeah, the part where he was like caught and put in a GDF prison at the end of the last series.

Oh well, no bad guys. Unless of course, you can find an accomplice of The Hood to fill the gap!

So this looks a little like our new villain! But we’ll get to him a bit later, folks. For now, let’s put our attention on our main family here.

“Let’s go in strong. Three ships at least.”

Oh really? Scott will never agree to that Kayo.

“Agreed.”

Okay... they clearly resolved their differences in the break.

“Virgil, Kayo, get ready to fly.”

“Anything Alan and I can do?”

Look at Gordon itching to get out and in on the action.”

“Just hold down the fort.”

“We could build one right here out of sofa cushions.”

Those faces there say it all, Alan! They are like *speechless*, *don’t know how to respond*, *oh Alan*, and *what on earth did you just say?* faces. I love it!

“Or not.”

Yeah, or not.

EOS is back! EOS is back, this is a big thing everyone - and google images doesn’t have like a single shot of her from this ep. Literally I searched for ages and there is nothing. I gave up because I couldn’t be bothered to keep on searching. I think I got to page 12...

“EOS, this looks like a life reading. Can you get a more detailed scan?”

“Of course, John.”

“Woah.”

“It appears to be the driver.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t look very friendly either.”

“I’m five minutes out. Where are the GDF?”

“On approach now.”

Yes, because they fared so well even with their “weapons clearance”.

Anyhow, don’t worry, because International Rescue have arrived to save the day!

“Colonel Casey?”

“Stay back, Thunderbird One. We’re still accessing the situation. That’s an order, Scott.”

“FAB. Standing by.”

Grandma strikes right again too - definitely be more interested in who is driving it. He’s dangerous and he’ll be back.

“Do we take that as a yes?”

In my opinion Virgil, never take silence as a yes. This is what happens as well so it seems.

“I told you to stay away.”

“Who are you?”

“I am The Mechanic. and if you’re Thunderbird comes any closer, I’ll break it as well.”

And now we have a name. Still, we’ll discuss him later, let’s continue with the story for now.

“This is my ship and I say not a chance.”

Got to love that giant green determination.

Thunderbird Two makes it back safely! That’s a testament to the pilot really. In both TAG and TOS we get displays of Virgil’s calm and skill. In TOS, Thunderbird Two crash landed at Tracy Island in ‘Terror in New York’ after being shot at by the US Navy’s new Sentinel... Oopps. In TAG, it’s a case of mechanical sabotage (add in a little stubborn will). In both cases though, the issues are similar - rear damage to the engines and the possibility of fire or cut outs.

In TOS, Scott is encouraging Virgil to make it a little further to the Island. In TAG however, Scott is the one who almost orders for Virgil to

“The landing will be way too risky, Virgil, you need to ditch her in the ocean.”

Now, my theory on this is that in TOS the boys still had their father, and were a bit older than they are in this series (not too much, but enough). In TAG, they have lost Jeff and so I think it makes sense that they have more understanding of their own mortality and less super human thinking (or visuals for us anyhow). In TAG, their also seems to be more thought into keeping the original Thunderbirds as in tact as they can - upgrades and modifications, yes, but as original as possible. Where as in TOS there’s less consideration of the machines. Maybe it’s just the different ways in which the two series are written, but in TAG, it definitely seems to be that keeping the Thunderbirds as much the same as the way their Dad built them, really matters to these boys.

It was a pretty good remake of the crash landing too, as well as being perfectly original in its own senses. And hey, Virgil didn’t get knocked out this time! But Thunderbird Two did still get drenched in fire suppressant foam. Oh well, you can’t have it all.

“I don’t know who this Mechanic fellow is, but I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts he’s getting some help from The Hood.”

“Uh, Grandma, The Hood’s in prison.”

And Grandma calls it right again! Anyone want to give her a third go this episode?

Interesting method of rescue. We’ve never seen anything like this before... And Kayo’s off doing her snooping. Love a bit of spy work.

Speaking of...

Here is something of a conversation... or should that be interrogation, but subtly?

“You know, Ma’am, hI ‘ave ways to make ‘im talk.”

“I think Miss Creighton-Ward is doing just fine on her own, Parker.”

No! I wanted to see what Parker had up his sleeve, Colonel Casey and I bet others out there did too, someone dare to prove me wrong. Go on.

“This look suits you. Stripes.”

“Yes, and red suits you. We can chit-chat all day if you like, but I suspect you’re here because someone is in trouble. Perhaps something worse than me has come to pass?”

“You mean The Mechanic? Oh, he’s well in hand by now. His first mistake was taking shots at the GDF; his last was taking shots at my friends.”

“This has nothing to do with me, of course. Being in here!”

“Certainly not. This Mechanic fellow has none of your guile and sophistication.”

Look at that creepy eye going.

So these are Mecca’s.

And this is The Mechanic.

Let’s finally discuss what we know about the villain.

“This guy is untouchable, Brains.”

“I believe The Mechanic is using Null-Point Energy in a recombinant distribution matrix.”

So, I’m trying to write this like I know nothing of how this whole story and character pans out, just so we can note the development along the way - so I know we do know more than this, but run with this level of knowledge in keeping with the current reruns of the show.

So we know he’s good with tech. That’s a first.

He’s connected to The Hood in someway for a second.

He can hack EOS, for a third - and John is good with tech so that is saying something.

And he knows Brains, that’s our fourth.

He looks like quite the bad guy actually... Little bit worrying for us.

Now, expanding on all this - back when series 2 of TAG first started, I read an interesting theory that suggested The Mechanic was meant to be in someway like or be the Black Phantom from the original series (Thunderbird Six) who was also mentioned by the IR impostors in the episode ‘The Impostors’ and was clearly supposed to be the person they were working for.

Now, we never really got to know much about Black Phantom, other than the fact that he ran his operations much like The Hood. In fact, Sylvia Anderson apparently referred to him on set as “Hood Jr.” which of course, could just be a nickname she chose to give the character, or could be implying a possible blood relation. ‘The Complete Book of Thunderbirds’ then took this one step further by implying that Black Phantom and The Hood were indeed the same person. Now, of course, there is every chance of this potentially being true as we know the Hood is capable of changing his face, and that he is called The Hood because he has so many alias’ that no one knows his real name.

Of course that above theory would cut The Mechanic out from being the Black Phantom, but it was still a worthwhile penny to flick into our thought space. Personally I don’t think The Mechanic and Black Phantom are the same person, but the post did raise interesting points about their shared traits of shadowy intelligence and ruthless actions. I think these are definitely the kind of characteristics that The Hood looks for in employees and so I can see where the idea came from.

Returning back to the idea of The Hood and Black Phantom being either related or the same person - just quickly to finish this whole section - The Hood is “feared as the most dangerous man in the world”, where as Black Phantom was noted as “utterly ruthless”. In many ways, these two elements and traits can and do cross over. It is likely to think that if The Hood is regarded as the most dangerous man in the world, that he is known to be capable of being ruthless. As a counterpart, if someone if known to be ruthless, let alone utterly, you would probably regard them with caution and consider them a potential danger at the very least.

In case it makes any difference - especially as it could have just been complete coincidence - The Hood’s original puppet was remade into Black Phantom for the sake of the Thunderbird Six movie, so who knows, maybe...

Oh, and the above I’ve included just because I like it and I wanted to put it here. I don’t know who made the original gif, but credit to them.

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scribbles97 · 4 years ago

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Left Behind -- Chapter 16

All of the fluff in this chapter... what could possibly go wrong with a Tracy family pizza night?

PART 1 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21

Read on Ao3

It had been hours since Kyrano’s revelation, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to look away from the information in front of her.

Jeff could be alive.

Although she had called off the search and forced herself to come to terms that he was gone, part of her had never truly given up hope.

That was the reason she had kept John’s program on Thunderbird Five. No matter how much time may have passed she couldn’t simply let it all stop. It wasn’t like running the program that kept up the search cost anything more. The space station was still running its primary functions first and foremost. Looking for Jeff was simply a background task.

A background task that may have been futile in its efforts.

Not even Thunderbird Five could reach that far out into space.

Four years and they had absolutely no way of knowing. Their efforts could be too little too late at that point.

And how long would it take to build a new ship? One equally as capable of deep space exploration.

Time was not a luxury she was willing to afford, despite Kyrano’s assurances that things would come together if she gave him time to make the arrangements needed.

If Jeff was still out there, there had to be a way to reach him.

Her grasp on computer engineering wasn’t strong, but she knew enough about the ships she had helped Jeff design to know that Thunderbird Five could only send signals of an interpretable quality so far into space. Messages from the Calypso took months to make it as far as earth, not that she was meant to be keeping an eye on it, but the ship was a part of Jeff’s legacy; she felt a duty to keep an eye on it and ensure the crew's safety.

She almost dropped her glass of wine as the thought hit her. Jolting upright in her desk chair she reached for her comm,

“Hiram, are you available?”

His reply was stunned but quick, “Y-y-es Mrs T-tracy?”

“Can I speak to you in my office?” She asked, looking for schematics and old designs she knew she had saved just somewhere.

“Of c-c-course. I’ll be right d-d-down.”

The flight plan had been published online as part of a PR push before the launch. The Calypso’s intended target coordinates available for everyone to see despite the warnings she had issued about Gaat.

Thank god they hadn’t listened to her.

The predicted flight path of the Zero-X was next to join the screens before her and her heart lurched. Taking a breath, she pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes.

Perspective Lucy, She told herself, put it in perspective.

Pulling her hands away she looked at the two maps again and the numbers her computer had generated for her, the distance automatically calculated from one set of coordinates to the other.

Fifty Astronomical Units was a hell of a lot less than ten thousand.

“M-m-mrs Tracy?”

Lucy looked up and smiled at the engineer peaking around the edge of her office door, waving for him to join her.

“Hiram,” She swallowed, “You remember the Calypso?”

He nodded, “I still receive updates from B-b-braman.”

“How long does it take those updates to reach us?” She asked, biting her lip once the question was out in the open.

The man shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose as he tilted his head slightly, “W-w-well, it depends on the earth's orbit. N-n-normally between th-three and four months.”

It felt like a huge time frame, three or four months of still not knowing, of just having to watch and wait would be torture.

At least it would mean knowing though.

It was a chance of finding out if Jeff was there.

“Oh.” Hiram stated, adjusting his glasses again as he peered at the holograms, “Of course. The Calypso is in the same area of deep space as we predict the Zero-X is.”

Pursing her lips, Lucy nodded. She didn’t trust her voice in that moment, too fearful that the answer would be something she didn’t want to hear.

“Is there any way--” She started, throat catching before she could finish.

“To get a s-s-signal out there?” He asked, eyes widening for a moment before he turned thoughtful at the problem he had been presented, “It would take an awful lot of p-p-processing power on Thunderbird Five’s part, I w-w-would imagine some reworking of the computers onboard would be r-r-required.”

Something in her stomach flipped.

“It’s a possibility though? We could cut the delay down to weeks instead of months?”

“Oh yes!” Hiram nodded quickly, “Cutting the time down is simply a c-c-case of reworking the systems at both ends. I imagine B-b-braman could redirect the p-p-power on board the C-Calypso to strengthen its signals to us. Although…”

She sat forward, not entirely understanding all the computer speak he was uttering under his breath as he tilted his head from side to side and rubbed his chin.

“What? Although what, Hiram?”

Looking up to her again, he reached to the hologram, “If the C-c-calypso was, for ex-x-ample, half the distance between Earth and the Oort cloud, the time could be c-c-cut down s-s-significantly. You see, the ship would act as a r-relay and strengthen the s-s-signal before it sent it on further into the s-s-solar system.”

“And the same vice-versa?” She guessed, “If someone could find a way to send signals back, the Calypso would strengthen them before sending them on to us?”

“Yes, I would believe so.”

Her mind was made up, “How? What do I need to do?”

“It would t-t-take time,” Hiram bit his lip, glancing back to the holograms, “I would have to look into the specifications of both ships and--”

“Do it,” She sniffed, “Hiram, please, if it means-- if there’s a chance-- I can’t tell anyone about the possibility of Jeff until we have some form of proof. If this means I can find that proof.”

The man nodded once, smiling slightly as he did, “M-m-mister Tracy saved my life, if I c-can return the favour I won’t rest until it is done.”

“You have access to whatever you need, just ask and I will personally see to it.”

Hiram smiled slightly as he stepped back, “I g-g-guess you got me to s-s-stay on the island for a while after all.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head at him, “If you’d be more comfortable at home…”

“No, thank you,” He shook his head, “Here will d-d-do just fine.”

***

Scott slung his arm around her shoulders as he joined her in the hangar, waiting for Val to disembark from Thunderbird One with her extra special cargo. Lucy tried to ignore the reminder that she had to look up to him those days, that she had to look up at most of her boys now that they were all young men.

“So,” Scott started, “What’s the occasion?”

Shaking her head, she smiled to herself, “No occasion.”

He frowned at her, smiling as if he thought he was onto something that she knew he wasn’t.

“So what warrants using Thunderbird One to bring pizza over from the mainland?”

The question had been one she had expected, so it was easy to turn to him with a smile, “All my boys are home, am I not allowed to spoil you all?”

He hummed with a grin as he shook his head, “If you say so Mom.”

She sighed as Thunderbird One rolled down to it’s cradle, “Alright, so I was hoping it might cheer Alan up after I knocked him back again yesterday.”

Scott’s face twisted, the whole island had heard the argument between the youngest and his mother. Alan wanted to be seen as the same age as his older brothers, capable and mature enough to fly one of their ships despite still only being a teenager.

The kid hadn’t exactly done much to prove that he was mature enough to be involved in International Rescue.

“You know he’s still sneaking into the training room and going on the simulators?” He murmured.

“Who is?” Aunt Val asked as she stepped onto the gantry, warming bag in hand, the waft of steaming pizzas filling the room.

“Alan,” Mom shook her head, “Who else, Val?”

Val shrugged, “Just checking, could have been Brains for all we knew now that he lives here.”

“Really?” Scott asked looking between them, it was the first he had heard of the scientist staying on the island permanently.

“Only whilst he completes some research and updates.” His mother cut in, “It’s not forever.”

He knew better than to question further what the research and updates were, he would be told when he needed to know.

As for Alan.

“So what are you going to do?” He queried, “I mean, Alan is leveled with Gordon’s scores for the Thunderbird Three sim. He’s beaten Virgil’s initial trial score too you know?”

The raised eyebrows and folded arms told him, yes, Mom was fully aware of Alan’s scores on the sims.

“He’s still too young for the academy,” His aunt cut in before either said something to rile the other up, “Give it six months, he can apply for the program and from there he’ll be able to fly a Thunderbird once he’s suitably trained.”

Scott sighed as they stepped into the elevator, shaking his head as the doors closed, “That’s going to be a long six months.”

“The rest of you did it,” His Mom stated as she leant back against the wall, “He can too.”

He agreed that it was only fair that the four of them all went through the same training before they went straight into working as IR operatives. They needed to know that each of them all had the same capabilities and knowledge. Having different skills and areas of interest was one thing, but being able to rely on one another to do whatever was asked of them was something that could only be achieved through training. He knew, he’d seen it first hand as first Virgil and then Gordon had joined him running ops, the basic knowledge was there but had needed putting into practice and it was only then that their capabilities had started to shine through.

Still, that didn’t mean that Alan would be any more willing to wait.

“Just make sure I’m not here when you tell him that,” Scott shook his head as the doors reopened and he stepped out into the lounge.

“Tell who-- is that pizza?” Gordon asked as he sat up from where he had been lounging, eyes widening at the sight of the warming bag.

Scott had to laugh, nodding as Aunt Val set the bag down on the central table of the lounge.

“Fresh from Gunero’s,” She smiled, “They were fresh out of fish food though, so nothing for our resident guppy!”

“Hey!” Gordon laughed as he reached out for the boxes, “Former Olympian here! I’ll swim back over there and get a Hawaiian if I have to!”

“Seeing as the sharks are still about in the cove, you’re still banned from going anywhere near the ocean at the moment.” Their mother stated, “I mean it Gordon.”

“She does.” Kayo stated as she entered, “I spend half my day at the moment keeping an eye on where you are.”

Gordon grinned, “And spend the other half eying up something you like, huh?”

Had the comment been aimed at anyone else, Scott would have cuffed his little brother around the ear. The glare Kayo was throwing at the blond though spoke volumes, and he actually feared for his younger brother’s life.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Gordon.”

Behind Scott, Aunt Val failed to hide her snort under a cough as she unboxed the pizzas. He smirked, looking to Gordon with raised eyebrows, daring him to say something more.

“Tan, don’t murder him before dinner please.” Mom sighed, nudging Gordon to get his legs off of the sofa and make room for the rest of them.

“So where are my other darling siblings?” Gordon grinned, “Or aren’t they eating with us tonight?”

“We’re here, don’t you dare start without us.” Virgil grumbled as he joined them with Alan and John following.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Scott shook his head, reaching for the meat feast pizza on the far side of the table, “Was just figuring out whose was whose.”

“Good hike?” Mom asked, holding out a box to Alan.

“Saw the sea eagles nesting up on the peak,” John nodded, reaching around Kayo for the box she had just opened and taking the veggie pizza, “In a few months we might have chicks again.”

“And we got a great view of One taking off and coming in,” Alan grinned, eyes landing on Mom, so clearly waiting for her reaction.

“Alan Bartlett I thought I told you--” Their Grandmother turned the look of hope to one of fear in an instant and Scott had to snort. Mom might have been the one in charge, but nobody argued with what Grandma said.

“Alright alright,” Alan whined, “No talk about training over dinner.”

Scott shook his head as Aunt Val grinned at him, mouthing something about the money he owed her from their bet. Apparently his youngest brother wasn’t as subtle as Scott gave him credit for.

“I hope you got my order right Val,” His Uncle’s voice broke over the top of the chatter.

Aunt Val didn’t even bother looking as she held up the box, “Texan spicy, no mushrooms, extra jalapeño’s, just like you always have.”

He smiled and kissed her quickly on the cheek as he took the box, “Thank you darlin’.”

Part of Scott wondered what outsiders thought of the relationship that wasn’t. His Aunt and Uncle, married but nothing like a couple except for very rare occasions. Mom had once explained it as a case of two people that still cared deeply for one another yet had fallen out of love. He wasn’t sure he quite understood how that could be possible, but had never felt right in asking more about it.

Sometimes, in their family, that was the best idea.

He frowned as he looked around, “Where’s Brains and Kyrano?”

Their mother groaned as she too realised they were missing, setting her box of chips down and standing, “Probably in the labs, I’ll go.”

It surprised him that she volunteered, after running around for the rest of the family the whole day she usually sent someone else in her place to find any stray members for dinner. The rest of the family had quietened though, all munching away on the fresh treats none of them had realised they had missed quite so much.

Before he could say anything though she was gone.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Lucille Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #Aunt Val #Lee Taylor #kayo kyrano #scribbles writes #Left Behind Part 2

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authorofdanger · 5 years ago

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Miroh 2

Genre: Angst

Skz zombie apocalypse AU

It's very sad and violent in some parts, sorry.

"Balance! Balance is key Shuyang," Jeongin sighed while coming behind the boy and helping him plant his feet. Shuyang looked at him in slight confusion before one of the other young boys translated in chinese. Jeongin was given the difficult task of teaching these boys no older than fifteen and no younger than twelve how to shoot a bow and arrow. Smiling to myself I was beyond proud of Jeongin for not only strengthening his shooting skills but for being able to teach as well.

"Hyung have you not noticed how clumsy he is? I'm surprised we didnt put him in farming with Yeji," Hanyu chuckled as he shot and nearly hit the bullseye. "Stop being mean," Zihao groaned in english. Pulling myself to my feet I took over Jeongin's place behind Shuyang and placed my hands over his. "Slow your breathing," I said in his home language, "it's okay to miss. You are learning so breathe. Now balance and focus on your breathing."

"You know chinese," Jeongin gasped. "And english," I said while looking over at Zihao, "dad moved us around alot since he was a company translator. Does it really shock you? I lived in Taiyuan for five years, Texas for six, and Busan for eight years now. Korean is relatively my newest language."

"Hey I'm from Taiyuan," Xinlong said excitedly. Giving him a wide smile I turned my attention back to Shuyang and whispered for him to release the arrow, watching as his arrow finally landed on the rim of the target. "There you go," I encouraged, "now keep practicing."

As time went on, and corrections decreased, I had decided to leave the boys for a moment to survey the base. It wasn't as broken down as the infected towns but it surely needed repairs. The houses were run down and in a few years probably dilapidated but for now it was livable and somewhat warm. The shops we kept around were always busy with people making food, clothes, weapons, and more. Children were running around the property with no parents to corral them inside, only a few of us teenagers and early adults taking over the parental life.

"Y/N I thought you were with Jeongin," Seungmin asked while running up to me from the pig barn. He was wiping the dirt from his hands with a rag in his pocket and tried to clear his face but with little result. "I thought you were supposed to control the pigs. Looks like it was the other way around." Giving me an off smile he lowered his face and groaned, "younger sow has been testing Jisung and I's patience. It's too hyper to be cooped up in the barn but too lazy to burn energy when in the field and it's hard to catch it when I need it. Somehow it managed to learn to open it's own pen so I had to get Changbin to help me rebuild the door to move the latch."

His small smile made my heart swell, I rarely saw him smile during our time together so it's refreshing to see happiness in the same boys I worried about months ago. "I'm obviously not a builder," he added after holding out his cut up hands, "gonna have to borrow some of Hyunjin's bandages." "Need help?"

****

"I missed the way you patched us up. Its alot more comfortable than Hyung's tight and rigid tactic." Finishing up the last wrap I gave his hand a soft squeeze before putting the medical supplies back to its spots. "Had to learn somehow with Namjoon always managing to injure himself. I still cant figure out how he would do it but he always had new injuries each week! Mom was always finding small jobs to do so she was gone alot while dad was always at the companies he was doing work for. He tried to patch himself up but would always hurt himself more," I laughed, "I wonder if he found someone to replace my handiwork."

The room was silent for a moment but my smile never faltered. "I'm sure he's fine," I added, "I'm sure he is running around with Jungkook or Seokjin. They had a big group of friends apparently. I didnt get to see them often since he was scared I would fall for Jungkook but I think he was overreacting. Big brother stuff you know?" "I understand completely. My older sister was the same way with her friends. But she was more worried because I was a bit of a wild child in her eyes. She thought I would corrupt her friends." The room filled with laughter as we thought back to our pasts. Thinking about it now I never would have believed someone like Seungmin would be my friend. In high school I was always shy and a bit of a book nerd but wasn't afraid to stand up for myself. I guess that's how I meshed well with Jeongin when I moved to Korea, attending high school with him. Apparently Hyunjin went there too but I never really got to know him and didnt even know of his existence!

As we sat here I realized just how lucky I am to have met my boys. They helped me learn to grow a backbone and how important it was to not judge a book by his cover. "Well I better get back to the pins. I heard that Chan is going to take some of the men and younger males for hunting practice. You going," Seungmin sighed as he got up. "No I'm going to stay here and let my shoulder rest some more." "Right. But hey, thanks for patching me up."

**** Three years ago****

A loud crash erupted from the living room followed by an "Oh shit!" Glancing over at Jin who came and helped me make dinner tonight I wiped my hands on the apron he gave to me and followed the sound to see my brother trying to pick up the pieces of the now broken vase.

"Why does mom demand we keep glass items in this house," he growled before he cut open his hand yet again. "No Joon get the broom," I laughed. I quickly pulled him up to his feet and examined his hand to see a few thin lines here and there but nothing a few bandages couldnt cover. "You're a god of destruction," I giggled to myself before letting go of him and moving to get the broom,"dont move Joon! You'll break something else with your luck!"

"How is it that he is the older brother but you are the one who takes care of him," Seokjin laughed. "I swear the birth year on my birth and adoption certificates are wrong. I have to be older than him." "What will he do without you in a few years?" "I'll be fine!"

****

I always wondered where he went. Did he make it out of our town alive? Did he find the boys? I might never get answers.

A few hours later and I was huddled in my room by the fireplace, waiting for the boys to get back. Chan and Jeongin were out teaching the younger boys to hunt which was freaky in it's own sense but it was also scary that it was starting to get dark. "Y/N," Shuyang called while rushing in. "I thought you were hunting! What's wrong," I asked. Going over to him and rubbing his heaving back I could barely hear him huffed out "need translator. Felix cant understand. A man is here!"

****

"救命啊," I heard a young man scream as I raced up the staircase. "I dont speak chinese! Do you speak anything else? What group are you from," Felix yelled. "Hyung yelling isnt going to help. It's like when we did that when you were learning korean," Seungmin sighed. "Shut up! I dont see you helping! And where the hell is Shuyang?" Shoving the door open I walked in front of Shuyang and took a look at the situation. Seungmin was sitting in the back corner with his hands in his face, Felix was standing firm but with panic laced on his, and the boy who must have been the man screaming in chinese moments ago was pacing the room.

"My name is Y/N. I speak chinese well. Are you okay," I asked while slowly approaching the frantic man. " His eyes grew wide and he let out a "oh my god! I can speak a little korean but the words arent coming to me right now! My base has been invaded and we need help! I'm from Amber's section!" "Amber? Amber Liu," Felix asked after finally catching on. "They're invaded."

****

We filled the trucks with as many members as we could as we raced to the compound. In my truck we had Felix, Changbin, Minho, Jisung, Lucas, and I. The ride was quiet aside from the engine roaring as Minho raced us through the winding roads. "Please let there be survivors," Lucas whispered to himself, "let my friends be okay." Placing my hand ontop of his I tried to comfort him in any way I could but with little results. "How did this happen," Felix asked which I ended up having to translate. In the best korean he could manage in the moment he said "people were coming back from hunting and one was bitten while he was out. He didnt tell anyone and turned. It spread from there. Oh God Winwin!" Tears rolled down his face and he pulled his sleeves to his eyes to try to stop them.

"Its okay to cry," I hushed, "we are going to help the best we can I promise." Jisung eyed me as I comforted the stranger, knowing my heart was breaking for him. Placing his hand on his back, I could tell Jisung was trying to help too. We both knew what it was like to lose someone to this situation. When we first found eachother he had his older brother with him who got bit saving Jisung. I on the other hand had to shoot my mother when she turned and soon after my father. It's a pain that many in this world are forced to go through but it never gets easier. We all hope for a day this will end but at this point we know the odds are out of our favor.

"We're here," Minho interrupted before we all rushed out of the trucks and others pulled in. With a team of an estimated thirty we raced into the compound and began to shoot every Walker in sight. I stuck close to Lucas and Felix as we tried to find and gather survivors but only managed to find a small group hiding in a closed off room in the leadership tower. "Ten! Amber," Lucas cried as he rushed into the room. Doing a headcount I was able to see five survivors and then Lucas, my heart dropping at the alarming number. "We couldnt stop them," Amber shook, "I just had to find survivors and barricade ourselves until help arrived."

"We're here," Felix comforted, "now come on. We need to get you guys to a vehicle while we search for more." "I'll keep looking. I have great aim and can protect myself," I suggested. Nodding his head, Felix ushered everyone out while I raced around the entire compound. The bodies laying on the floor added to my fear and I prayed for atleast one more survivor. "Please! Anyone!" On the ground was a young male with a Walker ontop of him, snapping at his face. Pulling my arrow back I was able to nail him right in the back of his head and ran to help the young man.

He had to be close to Jeongin's age but definitely a giant in comparison. His eyes were soft but full of fear but I had to push my own aside to try to soothe him in this moment. "Are you infected," I asked. Shaking his head I immediately pulled him to his feet and handed him a gun from my bag and continued through the compound. After nearly an hour though and no other survivors in sight I knew it was time to leave.

"But Chenle! I cant leave him!" "Someone else might have found him. We have to go," I ordered before pulling him by his arm to the trucks that were already packed and preparing to leave. "Is that all of our team," Felix yelled through the crowd. "We are all clear sir," another called out. Helping the boy into the bed of the truck I crawled in to sit by him and the new members of our base, listening to the cries of pain as they went through their list of friends who were either infected or killed.

"Johnny," one asked. "Got bit. I watched someone shoot him soon after. Same for Mark." "Chenle?" "Infected." My heart went out to this group. These were their friends, their family, and they had to watch some of them die today. "I'm sorry I didnt get help soon enough," Lucas apologized. Amber placed her hand on his face and made him look at her, "you saved us Lucas. You cant save everyone but you saved someone! You did great." "Its not your fault," another girl added, "this wasn't something we could have stopped. Its life now."

Life sucks.

#stray kids #skz chan #skz changbin #skz minho #skz hyunjin #skz seungmin #skz jeongin #skz jisung #skz felix #skz fanfic #skz zombie apocalypse #stray kids angst #stray kids au #skz angst #skz au

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thisuserhasoriginalideas · 5 years ago

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(Still nameless project) Character and Species master post

Soo how some might have noticed I am working on an original Idea for a comic and this will be my Character master post which I will add to whenever I got a new addition for the cast.

The premise of the story basically some aliens going on an adventure to find earth and join a supposed interplanetary peaceful conglomeration because they caught a transmission of an old cheesy and corny scifi series (ala star trek or well early Perry Rhodan when you actually know that novel series you get a free smooch from me)

The Lophorel and the Narlaha

Those are the first Species to be introduced and well the ones where the original three crew members will start off .

For demonstration purposes I include a pic of the parents of the first three bc I still need to make a general species guide for them lol

(From left to right: Shejeren, Noroph'a, Uruphija'l, Charalah I will give some short specific info about them later lol)

Both species share one planet which is the second in their solar system and has three moons orbiting around it.

The Lophorel are native to surface of the planet and usually have a skin color ranging from very light blues to dark purples. They have gem like growths on their heads which is surrounded by a skin covered bone structure which either is build like an ark or a row of lill spikes. They have pointy ears and their bigger eyes have octagonal pupils which form a cross when constricted. Usually their Iris has the same color as their gem and their Sclera is black, in rare cases there can be mutations of color tho. With their eyes they can perceive a wide array of colors and even some elektro magnetic phenomena in their environment but they are pretty much blind in low light situations. They usually wear longer hair (short hair is seen as obscene in their culture) in different braided styles. While white hair is the most common hair color in their species there are also variants of reddish browns that can occur. They aren't very strong however but do to their legs agile and good at jumping. Height wise they can get from 1,60 m (5' 2'')up to 1,90 m (6' 2'') They are generally hermaphrodites and don't have naval due to laying eggs. They use the terms Eren (Seedgiver) and Ophat (shellcarrier) to adresse their parents and it occurs that siblings from the same parent pair use diffrent terms for addressing the same parent. They also number their children with the last sibille of their name so for example having 'rel' at the end of a name means that it is the first hatched child YEP I gonne write a language guid later someday lol . While being omnivore they have developed a distaste to eating meat and as a culture live mostly vegetarian.

The Narlaha are used to live mostly under the surface of the planet and are often called Nipht by the Lophorel which is similar to calling someone and earthworm. In turn the Narlaha call the Lophorel Kar'alarf which literally means stone-head. They are significantly smaller than their surface dwelling neighbors and only get around 1,50 m (4' 9''). They have four arms and are significantly physically stronger. Due to their carnivore nature and history of hunting they have sharp claws and teeth and usually a very dark grey skin completion mixed with red markings which makes them blend in with their stone surroundings. Their four eyes are one tones and most of the time their eye colors range from white grayish to red. They may only see the world in reddish and green tones but they have excellent vision in dark areas. The bone structure on their head helps them sensing vibrations from their surroundings. They are more like us humans when it comes to their genders and sexualities soo no big explanation here. But they don't really have their own names instead a family name is given from the chosen parent to the child with either a 'lah'(born female), 'ren'(born male), 'len' (born intersex) at the end depending on the biological sex they are born with. Also they tend to have brown to black hair only sometimes they mutate blond hair. Also there are albinos I'm the Species

In the history of their species they obviously didn't get along very well most of the time so after a view wars the Lophorel sadly established a trend of enslaving the Narlaha bc the Lophorel (having the advantage of not limited airspace) were technology more advanced than the Narlaha, who due to limited space couldn't build respected deferenses against the most of the time vibration based attacks of the Lophorel. While the violent ages of this planet are now gone both their cultures got so accustomed to the practice of slavery that there are barely any objectors on both sides of the coin. Still during the events of the story there some thing about to be changed lol.

And now off to a few words to the named characters above. They are as stated the Parents to the first three crew members of the story. Noroph'a is a rich space miner that makes his living with deploying mining ships to other planets of their solar system. They married the way less fortunate Uruphija'l due to practicality and the wish to produce taller offspring (They are a little insecure about their height). Both of them are rather strict and caught up in outdated social rules. After they conceived their first egg they bought Shejeren and Charalah bc they also were expecting a child and Noroph'a wanted their offspring to grow up with an always present play buddy bc he also grew up with a Narlaha play mate. After Charalah gave birth to a little baby daughter (Shejelah) She and her husband were kept as bodyguards for the two Lophorels while a third Narlaha took care of Shejelah and the now also hatched Ala'phrel.(Charalah and Shejeren already had a older child Chararen who at this point already worked in a diffrent household [Narlaha children get independent pretty quickly]). In general where the two Narlahas pretty happy to have landed in Noroph'a's household because their new daughter now had the privilege to get the basics of a good high tier education together with Noroph'a's offsprings which would mean that she could later find a home as a home preschool teacher which is considered a honorable position for a Narlaha. Noroph'a and Uruphija’l had one more child (Nirlaph) and even tho Shejeren and Charalah tried to also conceive again Shejelah stayed the only young Narlaha in the household.

On to the important peeps

(From left to right Nirlaph, Ala’phrel, Shejelah)

Growing up together the three established a strong bond and even tho it was planed to send Shejelah away as she got old enough to be sold off again Ala’phrel and Nirlaph both protested against their parents wishes and kept Shejelah around. This is partially because when they were younger and first got to have tech based toys the three of them build a simple signal receiver which accidentally lead them to catch an old transmission of a show called "Captain Jacks search through the stars" which depicted a utopian society without racism and slavery. They didn't understand a word of what was said in the show but the depiction of different races (even tho they were suspiciously similar in general looks) working together seemingly without race hierarchy fascinated the three kids to such an extend that they from there on strived to one-day be able to meet Captain Jack and his Crew and join their ranks. They over time established a translation of the alien language and made it their own. Learned all principles which Captain Jack resided as foundation of the peaceful planets conglomeration and started studying all skills need to actually fly a space ship.

Even tho the three kids treated each other as equals the older they got the more Shejelah had to oblige to the house rules, meaning she had to adapt to the servant clothing, had to learn formal speaking rules and wasn't allowed to speak without spoken to in general. While she did conform to those rules to some degree the suppressed aggression against them lead to her having a very strange relationship with human swear words. She really likes to sprinkling them in when she has the opportunity to speak freely. In general she seem to be a rather reserved individual (despite the swearword occasionally slipping out) but that's just as long as she doesn't trusts you. At times she seems to be just a tad sassy which is a way for her to handel her insecurities about her social status and her struggle to actually come forward with requests regarding herself, bringing her ideas forward or just simply saying ‘no’ to a request. It is very important to her to be able to choose her own clothing and she often will change her outfits as she sees fit just because being forced to wear a unified and dull outfit for most of her life evoked a desire of outward expression of herself in her. So even tho she dawns a version of the uniform they have seen the crew members of captain Jack wear she will take her own spin on them and proudly wears her own creations. She wears an open nose ring to honer her upbringing as slave and symbolize her now found freedom. Shejelah is often called just Jelah by her two friend after seeing the crew members of Jack using Nicknames for each other, while this is a shorter version of her name it also means ‘brain’ in an ancient language of the Lophorel. And indeed a brain she is, not just having the strength of her species Shejelah is quite smart and has a high interests in quantum physics and chemistry. She will often work together with Nirlaph, who has a interests into engineering to invent and upgrade all sorts of gadgets and knickknacks. Speaking of Nirlaph (Nick: Nor translatable with ‘fluffy chicken’) they are non a less brilliant but suffer a severe case of being skittish and uncertain. As the younger sibling they often had to live to the standards the older one leid down first and while they are in many aspects superior to their sibling the stress of being held up to already high standards got to them at a young age. So while they are capable of being brilliant and an absolute genius their anxiety and stage fright often hold them back. So more often then not they tend to overthink decisions and either screw something up in the execution do to the anxiety or just not doing it at all even tho deep down they know they should have. They still don’t hold a grudge against their older sibling to the contrary they heavily rely on the fare more outgoing and intuitive Ala’phrel to pull them for Support and to just pull them against through it. But other than Ala’phrel and Shejelah they prefer to keep to them selves often working in the dead of the night and in secret on their projects to avoid the awkwardness that brings working under the public eye. But also he refuses to give their and Shejelah’s brilliant invention to a society that wouldn’t even acknowledge Shejelah’s part in them which they think is way greater than their part in them. So even if both of their work could have revolutionized the space travel of their society they keep their inventions a secret which will later be to their advantage. But well without Ala’phrel the trio wouldn’t get to the point where they will find them selves. Ala’phrel is bold, charismatic and understands how to get their way. They are the driving force behind the whole story dragging the other two further into the right direction. While lacking the brilliant and deep understanding of the scientific backgrounds their bordering on delusional positive attitude and admiration of the concepts they have seen in the show keeps them all moving forward. Ala’phrel isn’t shy of justifying controversial actions ( like stealing a ship from their parents) with the greater intention behind them which sometimes leads to further trouble they need to deal with together with their friends which more often than not build the perfect contra weight to Ala’phrel ‘s at times insane schemes. They definitely are a bit too much obsessed with captain Jack and his crew and them being real so you could say they are a super fan. But in the end they have good intentions even tho they lack the experience they always try to do the best for their friend and for themselves.

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lily-blue · 5 years ago

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CODE Z3RO | CODE 08

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,4K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

Kang Seulgi was one of those people who found comfort in the silence even when it felt sad, despairing and endlessly barren without comforting words that could ease the restless hearts. Unlike Taehyung who seemed unable to shut up whenever the team faced another obstacle, she kept her worries for herself, swallowing down all those nasty swears that formed in her throat once they stepped inside the main researcher building and found nothing. There was no magical computer in the basement that could have put an end to their misery nor important folders that could have contained useful information and saved them. There were no people who could have helped them find the fastest escape route nor food that they could have stolen at least to fill their uneasy stomachs. Not that any of them would have been able to eat. Not with their fallen members’ dead bodies, all that blood and roasted meat, in their mind.

After ten minutes of constant searching, everyone seemed to give up although none of them dared to move or voice out the obvious: what if they had been in the next zone on the list all along and a little bit more than five minutes later the defence system would close them inside of a transparent box that would slowly run out of oxygen? Would they die if they tried to walk into a neighbourhood zone through the invisible fences as Jimin had done? No one could tell for sure. Or at least no one dared to speak up.

They all gathered in the hallway near the stairs and the broken elevator on the first floor just as they had agreed in advance and watched Yoongi walking back and forth, trying to come up with a plan in vain. Lacking essential information such as the location of the main computer or the exact order of the zones, he didn’t know which route they should have followed to get to the bridge without people dying around them uselessly. Even though he wasn’t as selfless as Seokjin had been and would have never given his life to save a mere acquaintance, he didn’t want to lose anyone of their group if it could be evitable. It was basic empathy that for some reason Taehyung was lacking in many aspects.

‘So can we finally agree on that, there’s nothing useful in here and we’re just wasting our time? How much do we have? Three minutes?’ he asked aggressively with his forehead leaning against the wall. He was just as scared as everyone else, it was obvious from the way he kept kicking the metal panel next to a random bedroom, but his behaviour made everyone nervous and it made hard for them to concentrate.

Namjoon snorted and nuzzled closer to his girlfriend whose face was buried in the juncture between the boy’s neck and shoulder.

‘What? Did you all forget how to speak?’ Taehyung asked with anger in his eyes when he turned around and all he could see was a bunch of trembling idiots and the eerie IT guy who was walking down the hallway, murmuring something indecipherable under his nose. The Marketing major hated him for being such a smartass but he definitely hated the others more for acting ever so pathetic. For a second, they had made him believe that they would all die in the fancy palace, the researchers had built for themselves. ‘Even you, Ginger Head? You had such a big mouth back there when your boyfriend speeded up this killing machine,’ he looked at Wendy and from his tone and the tiny sweat drop on his neck, Joohyun could tell that it was defence mechanism. He tried to pick a fight to erase the silence. How human of him.

‘We got in! That was the plan and he made it possible so you should thank him instead of…’ the girl screamed at the lilac haired boy once she pushed herself further from Namjoon and stood up.

‘Thank him? Really?’ the questions rolled off Taehyung’s lips and the smug smirk that hid in the corner of his mouth scared the shit out of the med student. He looked cold like a man who didn’t have anything to lose anymore thus was ready to do anything that could put his heart at ease. For example holding onto the vengeance that he felt towards the Mechanical Engineering major who stepped between his girlfriend and Taehyung in the meantime. His heroic behaviour earned a scoff from the younger. ‘Well then thank you so much for killing us all, Your Highness,’ he said cruelly and even took a deep bow to emphasize the weight of his words.

It was Yoongi who put his hand on the Marketing major’s shoulder and pulled him further from the couple, pointing at the small, digital numbers on the metal panel that he couldn’t stop hitting a few minutes prior, the one that could have opened the nearest door if their bracelets had been still working. The clock told them that it was quarter to twelve which meant somewhere in Choego another zone had gotten cut off electricity three minutes ago. They were safe for the next twenty-seven minutes.

‘Let’s stop it here, shall we? We need to figure out where’s the main computer so that we can stop the countdown and open the gates,’ the IT guy said in a stern voice and looked around, searching for doubt in the other’s clouded eyes. His piercing gaze sent a jolt down in Seulgi’s spine.

‘I…’ she started but her voice was too quiet to be heard and by the time she gathered enough courage to repeat that simply pronoun, Taehyung brushed Yoongi’s hand off his shoulder and leaned closer to the older.

‘You said yourself that this system doesn’t have admins. You couldn’t even open a freaking door goddamnit. How could you save us all with your useless skills, hah?’ he spat the words into their leader’s face and pushing his chest, he shoved Yoongi backwards. When Namjoon and Jungkook tried to seperate them or more precisely when they tried to get Taehyung off Yoongi who stood still like a statue, all hell broke loose and that was enough for Seulgi to turn her back on the team, seeking for peace in the abandoned building. She didn’t fear the city or the invisible fences. What she feared the most was the human factors in the structure. She had learned it in her first year in uni that one couldn’t build a strong construction on a weak foundation. With the lilac haired guy’s attitude, they would never become a real team.

She opened a door on the second floor and sit on a bare table with her legs on the backrest of a chair. It felt nice to be able to breath again far from the noises of the ruckus thus she opened her backpack and fished out her silver cigarette case and a plain lighter. She didn’t think before she put the loosey between her lips and suck a mouthful of the mint flavoured smoke.

She sat in the silence for long minutes before something crashed into the metal door and the cigarette fell out of her slim fingers, burning her pale skin. Seulgi jumped off the table hastily and covered her belongings with her body when the intruder pushed the old-fashioned handle downwards to sneak inside the room. When Yerim’s gaze found hers, the younger seemed honestly relieved.

‘We decided on going forwards. We’ll try to escape through the bridge,’ she said in her weak voice as she stepped inside, leaving the older with no choice but to abandon her cigarette case and the lighter since there was no way that she could have shoved them into her backpack without Yerim noticing. She didn’t want the girl to tell about her habit to everyone especially not Wendy who tended to act like an overprotective mother whenever it came to their health. Seulgi didn’t need lectures, she had gotten enough from her own mother when they had still lived under the same rooftop in the outskirts of Seoul.

They walked side by side silently when a loud noise split the muteness into two, breaking the shelter that the silence had created around the girls. Suddenly the whole hallway went pitch black and then a few still seconds later the lights came back in a bloody shade of crimson. It felt like a living nightmare.

Seulgi grabbed the frozen girl’s hand and pulled Yerim towards the others near the stairs on the first floor. They all looked confused and frightened at first glance as if they couldn’t have believed that the hospital incident had come back to haunt them in daylight.

Five minutes left until the total evacuation. The same, artificial voice warned them, freezing the blood in Seulgi’s veins who automatically casted her eyes down, looking at her burned finger with guilt filling her lungs. She let go of Yerim’s hand and took a shaky step further from the group, her movements followed by nothing but a stern gaze that was icy like the unforgiving cold of the winter air.

Min Yoongi shook his head and cleared his throat before he spoke up.

‘It’s the fire alarm system. Everybody, get out of the building,’ he shouted and pointed at the stairs behind their back.

The group of nine ran to the said direction with their hearts beating like crazy just to face with another obstacle as they realized that the building had locked them inside as if the system forgot that the main entrance should have been the last thing to close since the fire was nowhere near the door. They were supposed to have at least four or three more minutes to get to the exit goddamnit, a few of them swore under their noses while Taehyung kicked into the shock resistant glass. He acted like a wild animal that had been captured for the first time in his life. He meant to bite everyone who dared to step within an arm’s length radius.

‘The front door is closed. There’s no way out,’ the lilac haired boy informed Yoongi with a frown, making sure that the IT guy understood that it was him whom he was blaming for their doom. If Mr. Smartypants hadn’t insisted to look for the main computer in the researcher building, they would have never stuck in the glamourous yet useless dormitory in the first place. What the hell had they been thinking when they had let him take the role of the team captain? He was just as ridiculous of a leader as the dead man with the bloody tears.

Seulgi looked at Taehyung then shifted her gaze to Yoongi, putting her weight from one leg to another.

‘We should head towards the basement. That way we can get out of here through the sewerage system,’ she whispered, jittery fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tee. She wasn’t one who was good at making orders and bossing people around but she sincerely hoped that the others wouldn’t question her knowledge, just do as she suggested and rush to the nearest stairs to the basement. After all, trusting her was their only chance.

For the Architecture major’s biggest surprise, no one - not even Taehyung - had said a word before they turned to left and ran to the seventh door on the hallway that separated them from those dozens of stairs that led to the basement level. Since they had already discovered every opened room of the building less than half an hour prior, it was an easy run. Although not all of them was that willing to save themselves if the basement was their only option. Yerim for example stayed still with pure terror in her eyes.

‘The basement…’ she mumbled and her voice cracked when the first vivid picture of her brother reappeared in her mind. She saw him running back to her so that he could pull her out of the danger zone as he had always done. She saw herself falling on her knees and their teammates watching the whole scene from the safe distance of the hallway. She saw Seokjin’s apologetic smile and the blood running down his cheeks. She saw the sorrowful faces and the pity written all over them when she kept screaming even after there had been no tears left in her eyes. How could have she possibly walked down the basement on her free will? Easy. She couldn’t.

Two minutes left until the total evacuation. The robotic voice said when Jungkook reached the right door and leaning his palm against its edge, he noticed that the girl who was always around him didn’t follow him as he assumed. The boy turned around and watched the small group that was behind him but none of the members had an annoyingly childish ribbon in their hair. So much for getting to the entrance first, he swore, letting Taehyung cross the threshold as he took an unsure step backwards and observed the hallway.

Yerim was standing in front of the closed door where they couldn’t escape with the same cloudy expression she’d had next to the computer’s desk in the hospital’s basement.

‘Shit,’ the boy murmured under his nose when he took a deep breath and rushed back to the main entrance regardless of the short period of time ahead of them before the total evacuation, whatever that meant.

On his way back to the main entrance, he could see Wendy pulling her hand out of her boyfriend’s grab and Seulgi reaching the top of the stairs with Joohyun but he tried to shut out the crimson lights and the monotone noise that resembled an enormous clock, counting endlessly. It was crazy as if they had been trapped in a living nightmare in which everyone went nuts. Since when did he care about random girl’s well-being more than his own life? Damn, he hadn’t even shared his favourite snacks with his younger siblings for God’s sake!

Jungkook almost crashed into Yerim’s fragile body when his steps came to a halt after the fast speed but his presence, for the first time since this whole trial had started, didn’t have any effect on the younger as if she hadn’t even realized that the boy had come back to her. Her usually ruby red cheeks were pale and her gaze was cloudy, unfocused. Therefore lacking a better idea, Jungkook bent his knees and threw the girl over his left shoulder. She was so petite that her weight barely made any difference with the adrenaline running through the boy’s body.

‘I said I’m fine. Help him!’ Wendy raised her voice, pointing at Yoongi when Jungkook passed them by, jogging down the stairs. The boy lifted a brow in confusion but fastly shook the idea of staying out of his head. He wasn’t a hero to begin with and he had never intended to become one if not to become an excellent engineer who saved the future of millions as a well-paid employee under the Cheongsan Group. Regardless of the current chaos, he would have still accepted one of those fancy contracts. It was too valuable to throw it away because of sentimentalism. ‘He has asthma, he couldn’t reach the basement in time,’ he could hear the med student’s stern voice but the snort that followed it merged into the constant background noise, provided by the fire alarm when the door closed behind him and the sobbing dead weight on his back.

‘Fine, but you need to stay right next to me or else I won’t hesitate to leave him here and save you first,’ Namjoon claimed when his girlfriend looked around and took a step towards Hoseok who seemed dizzy as he walked with his hands kept on the wall. ‘You know that it isn’t a lie,’ the Mechanical Engineering major cleared his throat and being left with no choice, Wendy ran after him and Yoongi, following them down the stairs.

One minute left until the total evacuation. The artificial voice warned them in a lifeless tone and Wendy had never felt twenty-four steps that many before.

It was Seulgi and Joohyun who reached the iron door of their safe haven first and what they found was a surprisingly spacious room with ugly, grey paint on its walls and warm water droplets occasionally falling from above from the huge pipes that were placed on the ceiling. It was disappointing to say the least after all the high tech equipments that they had seen in the city and the fabulous interior design of the researcher building made of shock resistant glass, marble and thin metal that shone just as bright as crystals. It looked as if the budget had been cut off in the last minute and there wouldn’t have left enough money for the less important areas that were hidden beneath the ground.

They both snapped their heads towards the hallway when a faint thud followed by a loud swear filled the sphere between the stairs and the door and not long after Jungkook crossed the threshold with Yerim on his shoulder. The girls shared a knowing glance before Joohyun sat on her heels and helped the boy putting the sobbing girl on the floor, leaning her back to the wall in one of the corners. The older shot a faint smile at the panting boy before he stepped away and turned his back on the duo. He didn’t want to talk about the reason behind his actions nor answer to the other’s nosy questions if she had any.

There was less than one minute left when Namjoon dragged his girlfriend inside the room regardless of her weak attempts to pull away, running back to the hallway where the lilac haired guy was struggling to make the endless metres between his aching body and the iron door disappear. From what the redhead saw, he must have sprained his ankle in the rush but his misery was the last thing that Namjoon cared about. If he needed to choose between the world and Wendy, it would have always been the quick-tempered girl therefore choosing between her and the brat wasn’t even a hard decision to make.

‘He won’t make it,’ the med student claimed angrily as she stamped her foot in frustration, pointing at the boy halfway to the entrance.

Namjoon let go of the IT guy’s shoulder and straightened his back, blocking the way from the girl who was ready to leave them all behind before the worst thing could have happened. Even though the boy had never had a problem with the girl bossing him around and would have done anything to please her, this time he simply couldn’t let her be. It was insane. He would have never forgiven himself if anything had happened to Wendy just because he couldn’t man up and took the rage that radiated from his sulky girlfriend.

Thirty seconds left until the total evacuation. The last warning cut through the lovebirds’ debate, leaving everyone a bit speechless as Joohyun pushed Namjoon out of the way and ran straight to Taehyung to help his injured ankle bear his own weight. She slid her arm on the boy’s shoulder and pulled him towards the room.

‘Come on!’ the girl mumbled through gritted teeth, not quite believing that she really risked her life for a boy who had threatened her less than an hour prior. On the other hand, her actions seemed almost rational considering that she did know how the human mind worked and that her conscious couldn’t have rested if she had let another member of their team die. With Sooyoung, it had been an unintentional homicide but knowing that this whole fiasco was very much real, she couldn’t just stand there and watch the boy got eliminated from the game as she had done with Gangnam Girl. She wasn’t as greedy and competitive for God’s sake.

They were only a few steps away from the door when a transparent wall started to descend from the ceiling and everyone started to panic. Taehyung balled his empty fist and held onto the sweaty girl with the other, nails digging into the flesh painfully. Joohyun screamed, her eyes brimming with crystal-like tears as she kept moving regardless of the fast speed of the wall that already covered half of the entrance. They were definitely too slow to reach it in time yet as if her survival instinct had kicked in, she marched outright insane, keeping her gaze on the target. Three more steps; Taehyung’s panting dulled her senses and pushed her underwater. Two steps; for a mere second they almost lost their balance. One step; Joohyun’s spine crashed into the wall when they bent their backs but by the time the wall fitted close to the ground they were all safe. The thought alone was enough for the girl to let her tears fall in frustration.

Watching her wobbly legs giving out, Wendy immediately rushed to the girl, sat on her heels and fished a bottle of still water out of her bag to dip her extra tee in lukewarm liquid before she placed it onto Joohyun’s nape.

‘What the hell was that?’ Taehyung screamed out of control, kneeling on Joohyun’s right. He clenched his palms and punched the floor so hard his pale knuckles started to bleed after the third powerful hit. His whole body was trembling in despair and for the first time ever since they had left the dormitory, no one could blame him for how he coped with the fear.

‘You were right. We should have never gone to that basement nor cut the wires of that stupid control panel,’ Joohyun whispered under her nose and her weak comment eared a surprised glance from the lilac haired guy. He had been so used to the disapproving retorts by now that the girl’s statement melted his anger. Though, just for a second, not a single heartbeat more.

The silence that embraced the university students was unnerving to say the least and the fact that Yerim rocked herself back and forth in the corner, humming a lullaby as if it could put her at ease just made the whole situation more uncomfortable. This time even Seulgi felt a bit anxious with her arms crossed in front of her chest while she was waiting for Yoongi or anyone who was brave enough to take the lead and give them an order.

A few ephemeral moments later, she looked down at her burnt finger and took a deep breath, trying to gather enough courage to confess. After all, it was most likely her fault that the fire alarm system had turned on and locked the whole building. Even the fact that it was her idea to escape through the basement couldn’t have made up for it.

‘I…’ she whispered with an enormous knot in her throat when Yoongi’s question outplaced her weak attempt to tell everyone the truth.

‘Where’s Hoseok?’ It wasn’t a question directed to the brown haired girl yet his gaze could have burnt a hole into Seulgi’s chest when she realized that the boy was looking at her right hand or more precisely the angry red flesh on her index finger. She shoved her hand into her pocket and turned away.

‘There,’ Namjoon said sternly, his voice cold like floating icebergs, and suddenly everyone’s gaze shifted to the direction he was pointing at expect for Yerim. She didn’t need to take a look at Hoseok’s body to be sure that the boy was dead or in the verge of dying. For her, his absence made it obvious that something terrible had happened.

Jung Hoseok was lying on the concrete a few inches from the stairs, lifeless eyes watching them all with blame and agony. He looked just like those scientists on the dorm’s floor who had died from insufficient oxygen and one didn’t have to be a genius in medicine to put the bloody puzzle pieces together. When the countdown had reached zero, the fire alarm system sucked the air out of the building to stop the fire before the whole research center could have caught on it.

Namjoon pulled his girlfriend close for a hug, looking for comfort in the warmth of her body but it didn’t help much. His stomach was uneasy because of the guilt he needed to swallow down even though a part of him tried to convince him that what he had done had been for the better. He couldn’t have saved another person beside Yoongi and if he had let Wendy carry Hoseok all the way to the basement she might have not made it. Her well-being must have been more important than a random dude’s life goddamnit even if that boy had never done anything wrong to them and playing God was a cruel game to begin with.

‘Okay, it’s time to get out of here,’ Yoongi spoke up although his voice was wrecked, far from being that firm he had intended it to be. He walked to the iron door and closed it to cover Hoseok’s body then looked around and asked Jungkook to help Yerim stood up. It was his rationality speaking because even after using his inhaler, he felt too dizzy to carry the girl and Seulgi was so out of it that he rather didn’t put more onto her shoulders. Taehyung had Joohyun to lean on while Namjoon refused to let go of his girlfriend who stayed beside him silently. They had been together long enough for Wendy to know when the boy was clingy and overprotective and when he was rather in serious need of her presence to avoid self-hatred. So this time she didn’t protest.

Yoongi walked to the grey wall across the entrance and sat on his heels as he tried to open the trapdoor that was well-hidden but visible once someone knew what to look for. It cracked open with a loud creak and underneath there was a ladder showing the way to the sewerage system just as Seulgi had said. The boy narrowed his eyes but stayed quiet.

Everyone looked at him with expectation, waiting for him to take the first step.

‘Your excellent idea, you go first, Captain Out of Breath,’ Taehyung snorted with mockery clinging to his words and even though he wasn’t entirely right since the idea itself had come from Seulgi, Yoongi clenched his teeth and grabbed the ladder, starting to climb. It wasn’t like they had any other option.

➼ IX. chapter

#code zero #bts scenario #red velvet scenarios #futuristic au #thriller #ssbyme #i have to tell you guys that during this chapter i shipped everyone with everyone #i like wendy and namjoon's relationship and that regardless of their debates they care for each other truly #and the way taehyung looked at joohyun when she agreed with him #poor hoseok tho #and jungkook the ultimate mvp!!#i cannot wait you to read more about seulgi #she is such an amazing character

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